The fire had burned down to glowing coals. I tossed another log onto the embers, watching orange sparks spiral toward the shelter's low ceiling. Two days since the storm had trapped us in that first shelter, and we'd barely made it to this one before nightfall.
Six days left.
Outside, the wind still howled, but with less fury than before. The worst of the storm had passed, leaving behind knee-deep snow that had slowed our progress to a crawl. Even Joran, who knew these mountains like the back of his hand, had struggled to find the path.
I glanced at my companions. They slept the sleep of the utterly exhausted, Joran propped against the wall with his chin tucked against his chest, Laina curled beneath a pile of furs on the stone platform.
Yesterday had damn near killed us. Fourteen hours of trudging through fresh snow, fighting for every step. My muscles still burned from the effort, though I'd recovered faster than the others. Joran had collapsed the moment we secured the door. Laina had managed to help gather firewood before succumbing to exhaustion herself.
The logs caught, flames licking upward. I held my hands toward the heat, examining the healing wounds across my palms. The marsh had left its mark, but the skin was knitting together nicely. No infection, at least.
A shiver from the sleeping platform caught my eye.
Laina trembled beneath her furs, teeth chattering audibly even from across the room. Her face was buried in the makeshift pillow, but I could see how her shoulders shook.
"Shit," I muttered.
The altitude sickness had improved with rest, but now cold was the enemy. Even with the fire, the stone shelter held onto a bone-deep chill. I'd noticed it when we arrived—this place wasn't as well-maintained as the previous shelter. Drafts whistled through cracks in the walls. The door didn't quite sit flush in its frame.
I stared into the flames, weighing options.
If I left at first light, traveling alone, I could make better time. No need to match my pace to theirs. No stopping to rest every hour.
But I'd never find it on my own. These mountains were a labyrinth of identical ridges and valleys, deceptive paths that led nowhere. Without Laina's knowledge of the way, without Joran's tracking skills, I'd wander until my time ran out.
And then I'd die. Game over. Trial failed.
Another violent shiver from Laina broke my train of thought. This one lasted longer, her whole body trembling like a leaf in a gale.
I moved to her side, crouching beside the platform. "Laina."
She didn't respond. I placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake.
"Laina. Wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first. When they settled on me, they narrowed slightly.
"What?" Her voice was rough with sleep and cold.
"You're freezing."
"I'm fine." She tried to burrow deeper into the furs, but another shiver betrayed her.
"Sure you are. That's why your teeth are playing percussion."
"Go away, Isaiah."
I stayed put, studying her face. Her lips had taken on that blue tinge again, and her skin was pale beneath the windburn.
"When did the shivering start?"
"Don't remember." She pulled the furs tighter. "Woke up cold. Couldn't get warm again."
That didn't sound good. In these temperatures, persistent cold could turn dangerous quickly. Hypothermia was a real concern, especially given how exhausted she was.
"Move over."
She blinked at me. "What?"
"You need more heat. Move over."
Understanding dawned in her violet eyes, followed immediately by stubborn resistance. "I don't need—"
Another violent shiver cut off her words. She clamped her jaw shut, but it was too late.
"Yeah, you were saying?" I raised an eyebrow. "Look, it's simple physics. Two bodies generate more heat than one."
"There's a fire right there."
"And you're still shivering." I nudged her shoulder. "Move over or I'm going to pick you up and move you myself."
For a moment she glared at me, a ghost of her usual fire in her eyes. Then, with a defeated sigh, she shifted toward the wall, making space on the platform.
I slid under the furs beside her, careful to keep some distance between us. No need to make this more awkward than it already was. The platform was narrow, though, and even with both of us pressed against opposite edges, our shoulders still touched.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered.
"Probably."
"I'm not some fragile—"
"Never said you were."
She fell silent, but I could feel the tension radiating from her. After a minute, another shiver ran through her, violent enough that I felt it through the point where our shoulders connected.
"Still cold?" I asked.
"No." Her teeth chattered on the word.
I sighed. "Laina."
"What?"
"This isn't going to work if you insist on lying."
She turned her head to look at me, violet eyes glinting in the firelight. "What do you want me to say? That I'm weak? That I can't handle a little cold?"
"I want you to admit you're human." I met her gaze steadily. "Everyone gets cold. Everyone needs help sometimes."
"Not me."
"Yes, you. Right now." I propped myself up on one elbow. "Look, we can do this the hard way, where you suffer in silence until you pass out from hypothermia. Or we can do this the easy way, where you let me help you get warm, and we both get some sleep."
She stared at me for a long moment, then looked away. "Fine."
I took that as permission and shifted closer, carefully draping one arm over her. She stiffened at first, then gradually relaxed as my body heat began to seep through her clothes.
"Better?" I asked after a minute.
She nodded once, a jerky motion. "You're... warm."
"So I've been told."
Another shiver ran through her, less violent this time. Unconsciously, she pressed closer to my chest, seeking heat.
"The daggers," she murmured. "Is that why you're so warm?"
"Maybe." I hadn't thought about it before, but it made sense. Heartseeker constantly generated heat. Perhaps some of that transferred to me even when the knife wasn't physically present. "Or maybe I'm just that hot."
She made a sound that might have been a laugh if her teeth weren't still chattering. "Humble, too."
"It's my best quality."
We fell silent. Gradually, her shivering subsided. Her breathing deepened, though I could tell she wasn't asleep.
"Isaiah?" Her voice was so quiet I barely heard it.
"Mm?"
"I'm scared."
The admission surprised me. Laina wasn't one to confess weakness. "Of what?"
"Not making it." She swallowed audibly. "To the Temple. I promised my father..."
I tightened my arm around her slightly. "We'll make it."
"You don't know that." She shifted, turning to face me. In the dim light, her eyes looked enormous, vulnerable in a way I'd never seen. "The snow's slowing us down. And I'm... I'm not as strong as I thought."
"You're stronger than most." I echoed Joran's words from days ago. "The mountains don't care about strength. That's all."
"If we don't make it to the Temple..." She trailed off, but I knew what she was thinking.
"We'll make it," I repeated, more firmly this time.
"How can you be so sure?"
I wasn't sure. Not even close. But something in her expression—fear mingled with a desperate need to believe—made me lie.
"Because I've seen it."
Her brow furrowed. "Seen what?"
"The end of this." I held her gaze steadily. "In my vision. The one that brought me here. I saw us standing before the Temple."
It wasn't entirely a lie. I had seen the Temple in my mind when the trial began. I just hadn't seen who was with me when I arrived.
Laina studied my face, looking for deception. Whatever she saw must have reassured her, because some of the tension left her body.
"Both of us? Together?"
I nodded, committing fully to the lie. "Both of us. Together."
She exhaled slowly, then closed her eyes. "Good."
After a moment, she added, "I'm still cold."
Without a word, I pulled her closer, tucking her head under my chin.
"Better?" I asked, to distract myself.
She nodded against my chest. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
"I won't," she promised, and I could hear the ghost of a smile in her voice. "Can't have people thinking I needed help."
"Your secret's safe with me."
Her breathing gradually slowed as warmth returned to her body. Just when I thought she'd fallen asleep, she spoke again.
"Isaiah?"
"Yeah?"
"What will you do? After the Temple, I mean. After we end the winter."
It was the same question she'd asked in the marsh hut. I still didn't have a better answer.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I haven't thought that far ahead."
"You should."
"Why?"
She was quiet for so long I thought she might have fallen asleep after all. Finally, she said, "Because everyone needs something to look forward to. Something beyond survival."
Her words hit closer to home than she could possibly know. In my real life—the one waiting for me outside this trial—I'd never had the luxury of looking beyond survival. The future had always been a nebulous concept, something other people got to plan for.
"What about you?" I asked, deflecting. "What will you do?"
"I told you. I want to go home."
"And then?"
She sighed, her breath warm against my neck. "I don't know. Help rebuild, I guess. The winter's gone on so long... there's going to be a lot of work to do."
I tried to picture it—Laina in peacetime, directing reconstruction efforts with the same fierce determination she showed in battle. It wasn't hard to imagine.
"You'll be good at that," I said.
"You think so?"
"I know so." I hesitated, then added, "People listen to you. They trust you. That matters when you're trying to build something."
She made a noncommittal sound, but I felt her relax further against me.
"Maybe you could help," she murmured, sleep creeping into her voice. "You're good at... figuring things out. Seeing what others miss."
"Maybe," I said, not committing to anything.
She hummed softly, already drifting toward sleep. "Think about it."
"I will."