“Stay,” I murmured to the frost at my feet, and it obeyed, spreading outward in a silent ripple. Any footstep on that floor would sing to me now.
I pushed the door open. The scent of herbs and faint ash met me—her potions, the ones the Court whispered were forbidden. She stood near the window, already dressed, Fenrir at her side, his ears flat and eyes trained on me. Her posture was taut, like she was ready to flee.
“You knew,” I said.
“I heard them.” Her voice was steady, but the tremor in her hand betrayed her. “They’re not subtle.”
I looked past her. The frost on the far wall was cracked, faint gold leaking through the seams. She’d touched it again. It had answered again.
“You shouldn’t have—”
“I didn’t call them,” she cut in. “I was trying to stop them.”
My jaw tightened. “They won’t stop.”
Her chin lifted, the same stubborn line I’d come to recognize. “Then neither will I.”
Frost and magic, how I admired this woman.
A heartbeat of silence. Then the frostlight dimmed. The Hold was listening again, waiting.
“There’s no time,” I said. “Torrin sent blades. The Frostfather will follow when he realizes they failed.”
“Failed?”
I nodded toward the blood still drying on my gloves. “Briefly.”
Her eyes widened. “You killed them.”
“They would have killed you.”
For a moment, we just looked at each other. Then she exhaled, slow. “So what now?”
“Now we run.”
Fenrir made a low sound, almost agreement.
I crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the cloak from her chair, and fastened it around her shoulders. She didn’t resist, but her eyes searched mine the entire time.
“Where?” she asked.
“The Frostwood. There are paths even Torrin’s men won’t tread.”
“That sounds like a lie.”
“It is,” I said, and I couldn’t help the faint smile that followed. “But it’s all we have.”
The frost at the door began to hum again—soft, urgent. Footsteps. More than one. Closer.
I drew my sword, met her gaze, and nodded toward the far archway. “Stay behind me.”
Thedoor burst open.
Three more assassins surged through, blades drawn, eyes burning pale blue. The first fell before he cleared the threshold—Fenrir lunged, jaws clamping on his arm. The second swung low; I parried, sparks of frost scattering across the floor. The third tried to circle toward her—a mistake. The air thickened, the frost snapping up from the ground and trapping him mid-step.
“Go!” I shouted.
Katria hesitated only a moment before running for the side corridor. Fenrir released the body and followed. I turned to block the archway, giving her those precious seconds.
