Chapter 24: The Path of Ghosts
The northern pass had earned its name from the number of travelers who entered it and never returned. Some whispered of wolves the size of horses, others of spirits who lured the lost into white oblivion. Elias didn't believe in ghosts, but as he urged his horse into the narrow cleft between the mountains, he understood why the tales persisted.
The wind screamed through the gorge like the cry of something old and angry. Snow swirled in dizzying spirals, erasing the trail behind them within minutes. The rock walls loomed high on either side, streaked with ice, and overhead the sky was a dull sheet of pewter.
"Stay close," Isabella called over her shoulder.
Elias snorted. "I'm not in the mood to wander off and die."
"Good. Then you might live long enough to regret following me."
They rode for hours in the dim, shifting light. The cold was a living thing, creeping into Elias's bones no matter how tightly he wrapped his cloak. His breath felt like shards in his chest.
Every now and then, Isabella would slow, scanning the cliffs with a hunter's patience.
"What are you looking for?" Elias asked when they paused beneath a jagged overhang.
"Signs," she said simply. "We're not alone."
They weren't.
The first hint was the distant echo of hooves, faint and rhythmic against the stone. The second was a shadow flitting across a ridge high above them—too large for a bird, too purposeful for falling snow.
By the third sign, Isabella had dismounted.
"Leave the horses," she said.
Elias frowned. "They'll freeze."
"They'll die faster if we're tracked by their prints. We move on foot."
The climb was brutal. The pass narrowed to a twisting path between cliffs, the footing treacherous with ice. Elias's fingers went numb beneath his gloves, and twice he nearly slipped into the ravine yawning below.
Isabella moved like someone born to the mountains, her steps precise, her balance unshakable. She offered no help, but each time Elias faltered, she slowed just enough for him to recover.
It was infuriating.
It was also… strangely reassuring.
They stopped for a brief rest in a hollow where the wind couldn't reach. Isabella handed him a strip of dried meat from her pack.
"You've done this before," he said between bites.
Her gaze was unreadable. "You don't survive long in my profession without learning to move unseen."
"And what profession is that, exactly? Assassin? Spy? Something worse?"
She smiled faintly. "Something worse."
A sound cracked through the air—a sharp, percussive snap. Elias knew it instantly.
A crossbow string.
He shoved Isabella sideways as the bolt struck the rock where she'd been standing, splintering into shards. They ducked behind the stone as another quarrel hissed through the air.
Isabella was already moving, drawing her bow from her pack with smooth precision. She didn't look at him as she said, "Cover me."
Elias leaned out long enough to spot their attackers—three men, half-concealed by the snowdrifts on the opposite ridge. The same kind of soldiers they'd faced in the forest, but better equipped for the cold.
He charged low across the path, arrows whipping past him, and slammed into the first man before the soldier could reload. Steel clashed, the sound ringing sharp in the thin air.
Isabella's bowstring sang twice, each shot dropping an enemy where he stood.
When the last man fell, the only sound left was the wind.
They didn't speak for a long time afterward. The bodies lay half-buried in snow, their blood freezing almost instantly.
"Scouts again?" Elias asked finally.
"Not scouts," Isabella said. "Hunters."
"For me?"
"For us."
The path wound higher until the mountains opened into a broad shelf of snow. Here, the world was a vast, blinding expanse—sky and earth both white, horizon blurred into nothingness.
Elias shielded his eyes against the glare. "If your Princess is up here, she's either dead or mad."
Isabella gave him a look that could have frozen water. "She's alive. And she's the only one who can end this war without burning the kingdom to the ground."
"And if she doesn't want the throne?"
"Then she'll take it anyway."
They reached the edge of a frozen lake as night began to fall. The surface was glassy and dark beneath a powder of snow, the surrounding cliffs forming a natural amphitheater.
"This is where we camp," Isabella said.
Elias eyed the open space. "We'll be seen from miles away."
"That's the point. Sometimes the safest place is the one your enemies think is too obvious to use."
The fire was small, just enough to keep frostbite at bay. Elias sat across from her, studying the firelight on her face.
"You've risked your life to keep me alive," he said quietly. "But you've also lied to me since the day we met. Which is the truth, Isabella? Are you my ally, or my executioner?"
Her eyes met his over the flames. "The truth? I'm both."
Before he could answer, a figure stepped from the shadows at the far end of the lake.
She wore furs of white and silver, her hood drawn low. In her hand was a spear tipped with blackened steel.
Elias rose, sword in hand, but Isabella didn't move.
The figure stopped a dozen paces away, lifting her head to reveal a face both regal and weathered by the wild.
"Welcome," she said. "I am the Princess you've been searching for."