The frostlight at my wrist pulsed in an irregular rhythm, too fast. I pressed my thumb to the vein, willing it to slow, but the glow bled gold again, faint and traitorous. It died as soon as I noticed, like guilt retreating.
My father’s words echoed:Seal the fracture, my son.The Dreamkeeper’s reply answered it:The frost trembles because of you.
It would be easier to believe either of them was wrong.
Katria murmured something in her sleep, and I turned before I meant to. The light from the window cut across her face, softening every sharp line. The bruising frost had faded from her skin, leaving only warmth where death should have lingered. That warmth pulled at me more than I cared to admit.
I rose, crossing the space in three silent steps. The air between us was different here—less cold, still tinged with the scent of thawfire. My own magic wavered, responding to it the way a compass wavers near true north.
Curious, Fenrir lifted his head but didn’t move.
I crouched again, close enough to feel her breath. “You shouldn’t be alive,” I whispered again, not to her but to the space between us. The words came out more prayer than curse.
Her eyes fluttered beneath their lids. “Then stop looking,” she murmured.
I went still. It wasn’t sleep-talking; her voice was clear, if not quiet.
When she settled again, I realized I’d been holding my breath. I exhaled slowly, and frost formed across my gloves. I reached out, meaning only to test the air above her, but warmth leaped the distance before I made contact—an invisible spark.
The frost retreated under my hand.
For a brief second, the world glowed gold. My skin burned; her pulse raced beneath the sound of mine. Then the light collapsed, plunging the room back into shadow.
I stumbled back, catching myself on the edge of the desk. The quills inside their holder rattled once and froze solid. The air smelled of smoke and iron and something unnameable.
Fenrir’s growl was low with warning.
“I didn’t mean—” I started … then stopped. Excuses sounded human.
The hound’s gaze followed me as I crossed to the door. I needed distance, cold, space—anything that wasn’t this unbearable warmth pressing through the walls.
In the corridor, the frost underfoot had begun to weep. Drops of water trailed behind every step I took. The torches burned too bright, flickering with faint gold beneath their blue flames.
I looked down at my hands; the light beneath the skin refused to die this time. Gold shimmered along my veins like veins of fire trapped in ice.
“Attention is not favor,” I whispered. The words steadied nothing. They only reminded me how false they sounded now.
At the far end of the hall, a low groan rolled through the walls—stone shifting, ice settling, or the Veil breathing again. I couldn’t tell. Maybe I didn’t want to.
When I turned back toward my chambers, the frostlight behind the door flared, bright enough to blind for a heartbeat. Then it dimmed, leaving only silence.
And in that silence, I knew control was no longer obedience—it was the prelude to ruin.
Chapter eleven
Katria
When I woke, the air didn’t bite.
For a long, confused moment I lay still, waiting for the cold to find me again. It didn’t. The chill here was gentler, layered under the smell of metal and something faintly sweet—melted frost, maybe. My body ached in places I couldn’t name. Every breath scraped raw, as if my lungs hadn’t yet remembered how to breathe normally.
Fenrir’s shape lay at the foot of the bed, one massive paw stretched toward me. His fur steamed faintly where the light from the window touched it. He was breathing, slow and steady, and the sound anchored me.
The rest of the extravagant, unfamiliar room shimmered with contradictions. The walls were carved ice, but drops of water slid down their surfaces, catching the weak light in trembling silver threads. Frostlight still pulsed in the ceiling like the beat of a slowed heart, yet the air held warmth that didn’t belong in Winter. I shifted, and the sheet stuck to my skin. Damp. The memory of heat returned all at once—the circle, the screaming cold, the burst of gold that shouldn’t have existed.
I sat up too fast. The world swam.
A low creak came from the door, followed by soft footsteps. Maeryn entered, carrying a basin that smoked faintly from the chill outside. Her expression, when she saw me upright, was something between surprise and dread.
