Kael’s gaze drifted back to me. “Tell me, little flame, has he even explained what you are to him?”
My breath caught. “What I am?”
Kaelith moved before I could ask more, stepping between us. “Don’t.”
Kael tilted his head, the faintest spark of defiance in his eyes. “You can’t shield her forever.”
“Watch me.”
The space between them crackled—Kael’s warmth meeting Kaelith’s frost until the air hissed where they touched. Fenrir growled, uneasy.
“Enough,” I said quietly. “Both of you.”
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then Kael smiled, all charm again, as if the moment had never happened. “You’re right, of course. We have bigger problems.”
“Like what?” I asked.
He looked past me, toward the treeline. “Like the fact that we’re not alone.”
The trees shuddered. A chorus of whispers rose, thin and hungry. Frostwraiths—dozens this time, their eyes glowing faint blue. The sound of their movement was like knives dragged through glass.
Kaelith drew his sword, ice catching the aurora’s light. Kael’s smile vanished. “Try to keep up, brother.”
And then the forest exploded into motion.
The air cracked.
It wasn’t thunder—it was the sound of ice screaming. Frost shattered from the trees as the first Frostwraith tore through the glade, a shape of jagged mist and teeth that glimmered like shards of mirror. Kael moved first, his blade flashing gold instead of silver. The light pulsed with the heat of Summer, a blaze that carved streaks through the dark. The wraith hissed, recoiling, its form curling away from the warmth like smoke from flame.
“Stay behind me!” Kaelith barked, voice cutting through the wind.
There was no time to argue. The storm of wraiths came in waves—gray specters gliding soundlessly over the snow, dozens, maybe more. Each one whispered as it passed, faint and high-pitched, a chorus of words that sounded almost like names.
My name.
Katria. Katria. Katria.
The sound crawled under my skin. I stumbled backward until I hit a tree. Frost bloomed instantly where my shoulder met the bark, crackling outward in delicate webs.
Kaelith lunged past me, sword arcing through one of the wraiths. The creature split in two, evaporating into mist that froze midair before crumbling to powder. But two more took its place, rising from the snow like breath made solid.
Kael’s laugh cut through the chaos, wild and bright. “They don’t like me much either, brother.”
“Stay focused!”
“Oh, I am.”
Kael spun, heat rolling off him in waves, his blade a streak of molten gold against the cold. Wherever he struck, frost turned to steam. The air filled with hissing sound and vapor. He was fast—too fast—his movements more dance than combat. He moved like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
Kaelith, by contrast, was methodical. Every swing of his sword was deliberate, efficient. He didn’t waste motion. The frost obeyed him like it recognized its master, lancing upward in sheets that speared the wraiths mid-flight. He looked carved from the storm itself, his expression pure control—but the light behind his eyes burned far hotter than before.
A wraith lunged toward me. I barely had time to scream. Kael was there before I could blink, catching it midair. His arm hooked around my waist as he drove his blade through the creature’s core. The impact sent a shockwave of warmth through me. For a second, I forgot to breathe.
“Easy, little flame,” he said softly. “You’re safe.”
“I wasn’t the one who screamed,” I lied.
He grinned. “Then who did?”
