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1.
“Come on! Let’s get out of here,” May whispered.
“May I can’t,” Winter hissed, yanking her arm out of her friend’s grip. She took a step back towards the party, wobbling a little on her heels before righting herself. “My father will notice if I slip away.”
“You look miserable,” she pointed out. “And if I have to pretend not to hear people whispering about me for five more seconds, I’m going to lose it.”
“You go, then.” She crossed her arms over her stomach and looked away. “They’re probably going to want me to play something on the piano.”
“You don’t have to, you know.”
“Ha.” How Winter wished that were true, that she didn’t have to jump, roll over, beg at the snap of her father’s fingers. Just another year, and she could enroll at Atlas.
Just another year, and she’d be free.
As if on cue, Weiss’ small voice rose over the crowd.
“Winter?”
“I’ll find you later,” Winter promised. “Steal some pastries for me, I’m starving.”
“You don’t even have to ask.” May smiled, but it vanished in a moment as she turned and disappeared among the crowd.
“There you are!” Weiss said. She curled her hand around Winter’s fingers and tugged. “Father was looking for you.”
“I’m coming.” Winter threw one last glance over her shoulder, towards the garden where she knew May would spend her evening, freer than Winter could ever hope to be.
Her heart ached as she lost sight of it as Weiss pulled her towards their father.
2.
Winter held back a small groan as she tore her eyes away from her textbook and pinched the bridge of her nose. She hadn’t expected ‘History of the Kingdoms’ to be thrilling literature, but trying to drag herself through the assigned chapter so late at night after hours of studying for her other classes was proving more difficult than she had anticipated.
“You know, that test isn’t for another week.”
Winter looked up across the table at the girl across from her, a frown twisting her lips. She recognized the girl- she was the tall, quiet one on May’s team, always trailing after her more boisterous teammates, more often than not with a fond eyeroll.
Winter wondered what that must be like, to care for your teammates enough you didn’t care what trouble they dragged you into.
“The test is in a week,” Winter said. “And I don’t intend to cram last minute.”
“Suit yourself,” she replied with a shrug. “You look exhausted, though. Studying can’t be that useful when you look like you’re about to pass out.”
I can’t afford to take a break.
The retort sat on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it down. Winter needed the escape Atlas Academy, and the life of a Huntress, promised her. She needed these passing grades, and she couldn’t rely on her teammates to get a good enough grade for their team to pass. She had to shoulder this responsibility. She’d known what she was signing up for, when she enrolled.
“I’ll be fine,” she responded crisply, and returned to her textbook.
The girl frowned, but she didn’t press the issue further.
3.
“You can’t possibly be serious.”
“I am,” Fiona insisted. “Robyn thinks you’d make a great addition to the team.”
“She wants me to join your little band of misfits and stir up trouble,” Winter said. “Why would she possibly think I would agree?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do?” Fiona asked. Winter raised one eyebrow and crossed her arms, staring down at the smaller soon-to-be Huntress. To her credit, Fiona didn’t flinch, tilting her head up and staring right back. “You’re her friend, Winter. She cares about you. And she trusts that you have the best interest of the people at heart.”
“I do,” Winter said.
“But?” she prompted.
“But I can’t follow you.”
Fiona chewed on the bottom of her lip as she stared up at Winter. An inexplicable sadness crossed her face as she let out a heavy sigh.
“Winter,” she said gently. “What do you want?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does!” Fiona’s ear- the right one, the one that always twitched when she was irritated- gave one flick before falling still. “You matter Winter. You matter to me, and you matter to Robyn, and all of us! Why don’t you matter to yourself?”
“I’m sorry Fiona.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat and said, “My path lies with Atlas.”
“Fine.” Fiona’s shoulders slumped and she turned away. “Goodbye, Winter.”
Winter’s hand dropped to her pocket, where the slip of paper offering her a job among the Atlesian military, offering her freedom, sat.
“I’m sorry,” she said to the empty air.
4.
“Long time no see.” Winter’s shoulders stiffened at the sound of that familiar voice, so out of place in the halls of the house she grew up in. She straightened up and dropped her hands to her side, turning to face Robyn with a carefully neutral expression.
“I hope you’re doing well,” she said.
“Yeah.” Robyn stopped and studied Winter with pursed lips, like she was one of those kids at the Academy she was getting ready to tear to shreds. Winter decided she did not like being on the receiving end of that stare, well aware of the kind of people Robyn had given it to. “And you?”
“I am well.”
“Are you?” Robyn raised an eyebrow, and Winter almost cracked a smile; Robyn had never needed her semblance to know when someone was bullshitting her. Instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line and gave a single nod. Arm’s length was the best distance to keep Robyn, with tensions as high as they were and with Robyn and her team robbing military transports- robbing Winter’s boss. “Right. I guess you’re not supposed to talk to me, huh?”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Winter said.
“I was invited.”
“You were?” Her stomach twisted as she realized just who had invited Robyn. “You’re siding with him now?”
“No.” Robyn grimaced, as if the thought of Winter’s father left a sour taste in her mouth. It probably did. “But you’re with him.”
“We chose our paths.”
“We did. That doesn’t mean I don’t miss you sometimes.” Winter’s breath caught in her throat, but under the intense scrutiny of those lilac eyes, she found herself at a loss for words. After a moment, Robyn nodded and spun on her heel, continuing down the hall.
Winter wanted to reach out for her. She wanted to call out after Robyn, apologize, explain, anything to heal the growing gap between her and her friends.
She didn’t move.
5.
Winter’s eyes strained to see in the darkness, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn on the lights, as if being able to see herself would bring the reality of what she was doing crashing down on her head. Winter Schnee, Special Operative, turned traitor. Years, down the drain, tossed away on a whim, all her carefully built walls torn down like paper with a few words from Penny.
I disagree.
All her life, Winter had chased freedom, but all the while, she had built a glass cage around herself.
What do you want, Winter?
She wanted a lot; she would start with this.
She stepped into the long hallway of holding cells where she knew she would find Robyn ran right into someone leaving. She let out a small oomph and staggered back, squinting up into the darkness.
“Winter?” Fiona asked.
She fumbled for her scroll and flicked the flashlight on, first tilting it up towards Joanna’s face, and then at each of Robyn’s team in turn, and finally Robyn herself. They all wore similar expressions, somewhere between shock and a resigned acceptance.
“You work fast,” Winter said. “I suppose I’m a little late to the party.”
“It’s not over yet,” May said. “We’ve still gotta get out of here. You in?”
She glanced at their hopeful expressions, and scowled at Branwen hanging in the back, but . . . she could deal with him. For a little while. He looked awful, his hair sticking in every direction, dark circles shadowing his eyes, and she could spare a little pity his way.
“I’m in,” she said.
“Yes!” Fiona launched herself into Winter’s arms, and she barely had time to raise an eyebrow before the rest of the Huntresses were crowding in for a hug.
“Okay, okay!” Winter said. A small laugh bubbled out of her chest before she could stop it, and then another, larger one, as if the dam that had lodged itself in her chest had finally broke. “I get it! We have to get out of here before someone catches us, though.”
“As if we’d get caught,” Robyn said.
“You were the one in jail.”
“Touché.”
“She’s right though,” Joanna said. “We should get out of here.”
Fiona squeezed Winter’s hand and whispered, “Welcome to the team.”
Winter couldn’t stop the smile that broke over her face, as the dawn broke over the tundra outside.