Asunder

23 FREEZE

INSIDE WHIT’S HOUSE, warmth prickled across my face as I unwrapped my scarf and pulled off my coat. I’d just have to put them on again, but I didn’t want to risk sweating inside and then freezing outside later.

“We were curious if you’d heard anything about the explosions last night.” Sam pocketed his mittens.

His cheeks were flushed dark with chill.

“Just what everyone was told. I saw Jac’s house go up last night.” He glanced at me, his expression somber. “She was on our list of people to speak with. So were most of the other victims.”

“All of them were,” I said, “but I didn’t bring up a couple last night because only a few people were supposed to know.” Sarit had told me privately she’d talk to them.

“How did you know, then?” He cocked his head.

I shrugged and fiddled with my mittens. “Sometimes people just tell me things. I don’t know why.”

Mostly a lie. People told Sarit, and Sarit told me because she didn’t think it was fair if I didn’t know just as much gossip as everyone else.

“I see.” Whit sat on the arm of his sofa, a monstrosity of faded gray and orange fabric that dominated the room. The rest was all bookcases and what looked like old board games on a long table. “I wish I had answers for you, but I came right here after the meeting. I walked part of the way with Lorin and Armande, but eventually we did have to go our separate paths. Orrin stayed behind to visit Geral. Cris, too.”

I nodded. “Have you seen Cris today?”

Whit stared through a bookcase. “No, but that doesn’t mean anything. People often go days or weeks without seeing even close friends.”

That sounded crazy and lonely to me. I wanted to see my friends all the time. But maybe friendship was different when you’d been at it five thousand years.

“He isn’t home, and all his plants are uncovered.” Sam looked worried again. “We were just there.”

“Well, that’s a bad sign.” Whit scowled.

“To put it mildly.” Sam didn’t smile. “I was just telling Ana about the time he raced back to Purple Rose Cottage to beat the frost.”

“Cris would do anything for those plants.” Whit shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his mouth.

Then it dropped, like he remembered Cris was missing. “I’ll call a few of his friends. Maybe they know something.”

“It’s strange,” I said, “that the explosions would happen just after the meeting. It could be coincidence, but…”

Whit shook his head. “I can’t imagine anyone in that crowd doing something like that. They’re all good people. You chose well.”

The compliment drifted by. I’d chosen well, but somehow, people had still been hurt. I should have done something different. Something better. “The Council is telling everyone it was gas leaks and corroded wires. They should be putting all the pregnant women somewhere safe.”

“Keeping them together makes them an easy target,” Whit said.

“Then not together. There are lots of places in Heart that aren’t being used right now.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Ana, but it’s unlikely anyone on the Council would tell you what they have planned. They might very well be doing exactly what you’ve suggested, but the fewer people who know the details, the safer everyone will be.” Whit leaned on a table, near a board game with tricolored tiles and pieces shaped like horses in various stages of rearing or running. “I wish I could give you answers.”

“What about Deborl?” I asked.

Whit lowered his voice. “He’s a Councilor.”

“Who hates newsouls.” Maybe I didn’t know Deborl well, but I knew enough about him and his choice of friends. Merton had attacked me, spoken out against me, said those horrible things after Anid was born. And Deborl hadn’t seemed to care when someone attacked me in the market field. “Do you think anyone might have let it slip to Deborl—”

“That fast?” Whit shook his head. “Everyone was at Sam’s for a long time after the discussion. No one left early, right? No one had time to speak to anyone, accidentally reveal our plans, and then the second person go out and set explosives. There just wasn’t time.”

How long did it take to set up an explosive and get away? Or not get away, if it was Deborl? He’d been at Geral’s. “SED messages.”

Neither Sam nor Whit argued with that possibility.

“What are you trying to prove?” Red veined Whit’s eyes; I was upsetting him. “Do you want someone to have betrayed us? Why are you pushing so hard?”

“Someone has to.” My throat tightened, making my voice pinched and desperate. “I hate the idea of someone betraying us, but I swore I’d protect newsouls to the best of my ability. I have to.”

Both men stayed silent, just watching me like I might burst.

At last, Whit spoke softly. “Would it be easier if one of our friends were somehow responsible for this?”

“Easier than watching more newsouls die.” I swallowed hard. “Easier than not being able to do anything at all.”

Whit glanced at Sam, something passing between them, and then Sam touched my elbow. “We’d better go.”

I wanted to apologize to Whit, but I wasn’t sure what it’d be an apology for. Instead, I thanked him for his time as I pulled on all my warm clothes again. Sam and I headed out.

“I can’t protect newsouls from Janan.” My eyes stung with tears and cold. “I can’t pull them out of the temple and bring them to life, no matter how much I wish I could. But I should at least be able to protect the ones who escaped. I should be able to protect them from people.”

Who was I kidding? I could barely protect myself.

My hand fell on my tiny knife, and I squeezed it until my knuckles burned. Not much protection.

“Let’s go.” Sam sounded like he didn’t know how to respond to my confession. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t have known, either.

Before, snow had left a white sheet on the ground; now it coated cobblestones like a blanket.

“I think we should go home,” Sam said, linking his arm with mine. I wasn’t ready for this kind of closeness, but he knew his way around the city in the dark. I tightened my arm with his.

“But we need to speak to everyone.”

“Not tonight.”

“And if there are more explosions? I won’t be able to live with myself if another newsoul dies because we stopped just short of catching this person.” There was no wind and the snow fell in silence, but my voice still rose as if we stood in the middle of a blizzard. Icy air snaked inside my clothes, making me tremble.

“Ana, you’re shivering already, and we haven’t been out but two minutes. How many times do you expect me to keep you from frostbite or hypothermia?” He brought his face so close to mine I could feel the heat of his words. His skin. “You enjoy making me worry, don’t you?”

“No, I hate it.” There wasn’t much vehemence, though. “I want to do the right thing.”

“Sometimes”—he tugged me closer to him—“that means not freezing your fingers off. We still have tomorrow. Anything that happens between now and then is not your fault. Let’s go home.”

“Fine.” I hated when he was right. Snow was piling up; if we waited too long, getting home would be more of a challenge than either of us could handle, especially on empty stomachs. “But first thing tomorrow, we’re either going to see people, or be making a lot of calls.”

He glanced toward the sky, though it was just dark with swirls of snow. “Calls, unless this lets up.

Which I doubt.”

I almost asked how he knew, but right. He was five thousand years old. He could probably tell by the smell or the size of snowflakes.

Our trek back to the southwestern residential quarter was long and cold and slow. We passed the temple—Sam had somehow maneuvered so he walked between the tower and me—and still had a long way to go when the wind kicked up. What had been a beautiful, if annoyingly timed, snowfall became rough and stinging.

Snow flew horizontally down South Avenue. It howled like a sylph as it cut through narrow places in the industrial quarter. Trees whipped in a frenzy. Sharp wind scoured the cobblestones clear, and if not for Sam, it might have carried me off, too. I was a rose petal in a snowstorm.

Drifts stood knee-high against buildings, though Sam managed to find walkable paths. I held tight to him, wishing we were already home. My legs ached with cold and fighting the wind. My muscles burned with exertion, and it felt like I should be sweating, but frigid air stole the ability. It was hard to breathe.

Once we reached our street, thick conifers buffered us from the wind. The night was black and snow.

My eyes burned. Every bit of me was freezing, even inside my wool coat and mittens.

“Just a little farther.” Sam drew me to our walkway, where more evergreens sheltered us from the screaming wind. He breathed hard, too.

Finally, we reached the house, and Sam’s mitten slipped on the doorknob as he spoke. “I wanted to ask you something. You’ve been talking about making your own decisions, wanting to do things for yourself.” He tried the knob again, but snow and wool slid across each other.

“And?” I scrubbed my mittens on my coat and grasped the knob, a dim shape in the glow from the window. It turned.

“Do you want your own house? Li’s or Ciana’s?” His words tumbled over one another as the door swung open. “I’m sure Sine could convince the Council if you did.”

I felt like I had a mouthful of snow as I stared up at him. Both houses were across the city, in the northeastern residential quarter. Had he changed his mind? Decided he loved Stef or Cris more?

Maybe remembering why he and Cris had separated made him realize the same thing would happen with me.

Or—I’d probably gone too far, ruining things for him all the time. The Council, the talk with Whit, the way I’d dragged him into my research of sylph and Menehem’s machine. Nothing had gone right for him since he’d found me in Rangedge Lake.

How was I supposed to respond? Say yes, I wanted to leave? I didn’t. I wanted to stay, because even when I was mad at him, I still liked being with him. But if I said I didn’t want to leave, he’d say okay whether or not he really meant it. And I’d keep ruining things for him. There was no right answer.

Sam wasn’t even looking at me as I stood there in the doorway like an idiot. He’d dropped my arm and taken one step into the parlor, and he didn’t move.

I shuffled the rest of the way in and edged around him. If I was going to cry, I’d at least do it where my tears wouldn’t freeze on my eyes. The door slammed behind me, leaving us in silence. “I don’t understand,” I whispered at last.

“Me neither,” he murmured. He wore a stricken expression. But he’d been the one to suggest it.

No, that wasn’t why he was upset. I blinked through the tears blurring my vision. The parlor was different.

Destroyed.

Every instrument had been completely demolished.