My gaze follows his.
Luceran’s pale blue carriage waits at the base of the stone steps. The sprites, for once not arguing, stand at attention beside the door, wings fluttering as they lower the step.
I’m almost too frightened to look, but I make myself peer through the frosted window. Ice rims the glass, clouding the view, though I know I would still see Luceran at once. Broad-shouldered. Impossible to miss.
He isn’t there.
“Seems you won’t be eating cold beans with me after all,” Pax says lightly. “Our good and noble Lord of Frostwyn summons you home.”
The jab is obvious, but guilt prickles my chest anyway. I thought I understood hardship, but the miners here… trapped in this endless cycle of labor and cold… their plight is far worse than anything I’ve endured.
My silence must give something away, because Pax huffs a soft laugh.
“Oh? Getting attached to me already? I mean, I’m not surprised, but it’s hardly appropriate.”
A reluctant grin breaks across my face. My first in what feels like a lifetime.
“Well, go on then,” he says, tipping his chin toward the carriage. “Do not keep Lord Luceran waiting.”
I nod and head for the step. The moment I climb inside, warmth envelops me. Velvet cushions swallow my tired body, and before I can settle fully, the sprites yank the ladder up and slam the door behind me. They flutter to the driver’s seat, immediately arguing over the reins. One smacks the other on the head, wins the tussle, then cracks the reins with a triumphant cackle.
The horses lurch forward.
Through the window, I watch Pax raise a hand in farewell before turning back toward the mountain. He heads for the rope bridges that climb to the tiny cabins along the cliffs, homes that look colder than the mines.
Before the Aurevault vanishes behind a curtain of sleet, my gaze catches on one last image. Rollin, huddled in the corner of his ice cage, holding himself, shivering violently as snow falls over him.
I don’t know whether he’ll survive the night.
That thought haunts me all the way back to Castle Frostwyn, almost as much as the truth lurking in Vein Three.
The carriage ride blurs into drifting snow and slow, heavy blinks. At some point, exhaustion curls into me, and I doze off… until something sharp tugs at my hair.
I jolt upright with a gasp.
One of the sprites hovers inches from my face, both tiny hands tugging on my braid like it’s a mooring rope. When I scowl, it only laughs, a bright, chiming sound, before darting away into the gloom.
I yawn loudly and stretch, long and lazy, like a cat basking in the sun, then climb down and step into the cold. The courtyard lies quiet, the wind whispering over stone and snow. I take the steps to the main doors and lean my weight against the carved wood. They groan as they give way, opening slowly.
I slip inside and pull them shut behind me, though I’m not sure why. Every window stands open regardless, snow drifting lazily through the air to settle in pale drifts along the floor.
As I approach the staircase, my stomach twists. Was I supposed to prepare Luceran’s dinner tonight? Is that why he summoned me back? I panic for half a heartbeat, then a warm, savory scent curls through the air.
I edge toward the dining hall and press my ear to the closed door. I hear his familiar grumbling, the clink of silverware against porcelain.
Atilia must have prepared his dinner.
Relief loosens my shoulders. I turn quietly toward the stairs.
“Neve Devlin!” Luceran booms from behind the door.
I freeze.
My heart drops straight into my boots.
I swipe my hands over my red hair, trying to tame it, but it’s hopeless. There’s nothing I can do about the white fur collar of my cloak either, now marred with streaks of black dust from the Aurevault.
“Neve,” he calls again, sharper this time. “Do not keep me waiting.”
