The crimson aurora still painted the snow in streaks of red and gold. I stood beneath it until the burn in my lungs dulled, until I could almost convince myself that my hands weren’t shaking.
Fenrir paced beside me, low growls rumbling in his throat. The air smelled faintly of iron and ozone.
I reached for the nearest wall, pressing my palm against the stone. It should have been cold. It wasn’t.A faint warmth pulsed there, steady and impossible—the same rhythm that haunted my hand since the battle.
Her warmth.
It lingered on the walls of Skadar Hold now, echoing through the runes that once obeyed only me. She was rewriting the Court without knowing it.
And my father was right about one thing.
I couldn’t protect her forever.
But I could delay the world from finding out why I wanted to.
Chapter twenty-two
Katria
The Hold felt different after the crimson aurora.
The air had always been cold here, but now it carried a strange kind of weight. Every sound seemed sharper. Every whisper lingered a heartbeat too long. Even my guards, who followed behind me, whispered under their breath.
I’d been given a little freedom, or maybe it was just that no one had interfered yet—but I noticed that there were a couple places that no one stopped me from exploring in the castle: the Winter Gardens and the balcony near my room. When I left the balcony—which had become my safe place lately—and stepped into the corridor, conversation stopped. Servants turned away, pretending to polish crystal sconces or carry trays that were already empty. I could still feel their stares against my back—quick, darting, afraid to be caught.
“The mortal summoned the fire.”“The Heir defied the Frostfather for her.”“The Frostfather won’t suffer it.”
The whispers followed me like a draft under the door. I told myself they were just words, but they carried weight in this place.
Brushing off my unease, I wrapped my shawl tighter and kept walking. The light filtering through the tall windows had a faint red tint, the lastremnant of the aurora. It shouldn’t have lasted this long—shouldn’t have happened to begin with, based on the rumors floating around. Even the snow outside shimmered like embers.
When I brushed my fingers along the frozen railing, the ice melted beneath my touch, leaving a glistening trail that refroze the moment I drew my hand away. I tried again. Same thing.The palace was reacting to me. Or maybe it was just coincidence.
Fenrir lay sprawled near the base of the stairway, a mass of white fur against the gray marble. He lifted his head when I passed, eyes catching the faint light like shards of silver.
“Good morning,” I said softly. My voice sounded small in the vast corridor. “Or whatever hour passes for morning in this frozen place.”
He blinked once and set his head back down. Some part of me relaxed. I assumed that a snowhound’s indifference was safer than its affection.
The same couldn’t be said for the people here.
At the next landing, two attendants in pale-blue uniforms fell silent as I approached. One murmured something under his breath before ducking his head. I caught only a fragment—“unnatural.”They didn’t meet my eyes when I passed.
I wanted to say something sharp, to demand what they meant, but I didn’t. I’d learned another rule of Winter: Words were currency, and I couldn’t afford to spend mine carelessly.
The farther I went, the more the Hold seemed to hum around me. The faintest vibration underfoot, pulsing in time with the ache in my palm where I’d touched the frostfire the night before.
When I reached my chambers, Maeryn was already there, setting a silver tray on the table. Steam curled from a pot of pale tea and a plate of bread that looked too fine to eat. The scent of strange herbs filled the air, ones Ididn’t recognize. But I supposed that it was foolish of me to expect the fae plants to be anything like what I was used to back home.
Maeryn poured some of the steaming tea into a small cup.
“You didn’t have to bring that yourself,” I said.
She smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I thought it best to keep the servants from deciding what’s safe to touch.”
I sat down, the legs of the chair creaking against the stone. “They think I’m cursed.”
“They think you’resomething,” she said gently. “Here, that’s enough.”
