The frostlight along my arms flared bright enough to blind. I didn’t think; I let Winter speak for me. The last thing I saw before I turned to follow her was the frost sealing the hall behind us like a closing wound.
We ran. Past the galleries, down the servants’ stair, through the lower gate where the aurora burned crimson over the peaks. The wind howled, carrying the faint sound of horns. The Frostfather’s guards were waking.
Katria stumbled once, catching herself on the ice. I caught her arm before she fell, and for a breath too long, I didn’t let go.
“Don’t look back,” I said. “The Frostwood will hide us if we reach it before dawn.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then the dawn won’t matter.”
She nodded once. Determined. Terrified. Beautiful.
We kept running, the world ahead glowing faintly red beneath the aurora, the snow whispering under our boots as the Winter Court behind us began to crack.
Chapter thirty-two
Katria
The Frostwood was alive. Not in the way forests breathe or creak but in the way a body tenses before a scream.
Each tree was a pillar of glass-veined ice, their branches whispering with faint luminescence as we passed beneath. The air glittered faintly with frost motes that danced like embers from some invisible fire. It was both beautiful and wrong—like standing in the ribs of something ancient that hadn’t realized it was dead yet.
We’d been running for what felt like hours, though the sun never rose this far north. The aurora still rippled crimson across the clouds above, painting the snow in shades of blood and gold.
Fenrir loped ahead, silent save for the crunch of his paws. Kaelith moved behind me, sword drawn, breath steady despite the cold air billowing around us. Every so often, I’d glance back. His expression was unreadable—stone carved from storm.
I should’ve hated him for dragging me into this, for making me care in ways that weren’t safe.But I didn’t.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
“The Frostwood,” he said. “It marks the edge of Winter’sdomain.”
“And beyond it?”
He hesitated. “The part no Court claims.”
Something howled in the distance. Not a wolf. Not even a beast that belonged to Rhaenor, the human realm. The sound rose and broke apart like wind through hollow bone. Fenrir froze mid-step, head snapping toward the sound.
“What was that?”
Kaelith’s jaw tensed. “Frostwraiths.”
I swallowed hard. “The ones that attacked before?”
He nodded once. “They follow what stirs the Veil. You.”
My pulse jumped. “Then shouldn’t we—”
“Yes.” His tone left no room for argument. “Keep moving.”
We pressed on, snow deepening with every step. The cold grew thicker here—not colder, exactly, but heavier, the way deep water presses on lungs. My breath came shorter. Kaelith noticed and slowed his pace, falling closer behind me. His presence radiated faint warmth despite the frost gathering in his hair.
A crack split the silence behind us. Then another. Not echo. Footsteps.
Kaelith spun, blade flashing in a line of light. The trees beyond shimmered, their shadows shifting wrong. Something moved between them—gray, formless, fast.
“Down!” he barked.
