Chapter 26

The note unfurled, looking dangerously dainty in Cosimo’s hands, he held it by the corners, the wind tearing at the edges. Henri watched something eclipse over the Italian’s face. His brow wrinkled. And it was as if his nose grew sharper. His lips tightening. He looked to the packed toboggans.

Henri listened as he shouted in Italian. The men quit throwing the balls of snow and checked their knots, testing the tension of the ropes, binding the crates to the sledge. With a whoosh they disappeared down the path they’d made. One toboggan remained.

Cosimo walked over to it, refitting his glove. Henri felt a chill creep in he couldn’t dispel. The sun had sunk beneath a peak. Their snowfield was now jagged with shadow.

Cosimo pushed the sled into the tracks made by the others. He sat on an iron crate. His eyes watched the countryside below. To hell with recipes and evenings.

“Henri, climb aboard.”