“You may begin.”
I squinted up at the Priest of Nothar, wrapped in a fur cloak.
“Is it too much to ask for a pointer?!” I shouted over the gale.
He offered no direction, only stared at me with disturbing gray eyes, his stark-white hair snapping in the gust. I couldn’t fathom how he discerned the time of day, or how he knew when the rite should begin. He was there to enforce the rite’s law, nothing more.
I cursed, knowing he wouldn’t hear over the torrent, then pushed upright, shaking off the snow that piled on my lap. The bitter wind whistled and shrieked, shoving me until I staggered.
Sainte stood as well, keeping his distance. Anderz informed me Valahants were permitted to attend the trials, but any assistance would result in my forfeit.
I shielded my eyes from the glare and scanned my surroundings. Beyond a few paces, nothing popped out—no trees, rocks, not even the sky. I lifted the hem of my skirt as it snagged on the drifts. The fur trousers provided comfort, and the dress added warmth, but with it dragging, it wouldn’t be long before it froze solid.
I stopped, pulling the front of my dress to my thighs, then reached between my legs to yank the hem forward, tucking it into the thick belt at my waist. I’d seen women girding their loins like this as they walked the shore, searching for clams.
What I would have given to be back at the coast. To feel the salty breeze cooling my cheeks, reddened by the sun’s warmth. Gritty sand between my toes, with cool foamy water lapping at my ankles.
Grunting, I trudged forward into knee-deep snow, the priest and Sainte trailing behind. With each heavy step, the frigid stuff threatened to swallow me. At this rate, I would be buried in a few hours. I pushed onward, hoping I was headed in the right direction.
Anderz warned me to stay dry. Logic said to find a cave and wait out the storm, but this was the Rite of Hearth and Home. I needed to brave the Howl and make my way back to the castle.
Hopefully, they hadn’t dropped Adastrus off any closer.
I wouldn’t put it past him to cheat or abandon Grimm in a snowdrift.
Lyana was devastated over Grimm’s condition. She bonded with the big man during their journey, growing close to him. She spoke of him often, and I guessed she planned to make her move soon.
Then Adastrus snatched him from her grasp.
The vilest of people inflicted pain by targeting their victim’s friends, and that was exactly what my brother did. He didn’t choose Grimm because he was the best candidate, but because it would cause the most harm.
Anderz reassured me that Adastrus could only claim one Valahant. The Priests of Togamar were furious with him for not fulfilling the velebond in their temple. His actions not only offended the goddess, but also tarnished his reputation among the people. The inhabitants of Wynterborne would hesitate to follow a leader who disregarded the old traditions.
I couldn’t envision them ever completing the ritual. The thought of Grimm submerging Adastrus under the water, working out who was the leader, brought a sad smile to my lips. Their bond lacked trust, and while I didn’t view it as magical, their neglect of the pretense felt like a poor decision.
A gust of wind roared over a snowdrift, knocking me to the ground. I landed flat on my back, gazing at the swirling gray mass above before closing my eyes. I needed to stay on my feet and keep moving.
Struggling, I fought to stand. Only moments into the trial, I was already weary and frozen.
I was going to die very slowly.
Darkness enveloped me like a heavy cloak, muffling the world around me. With each step, my boots crunched on the snow, the sound echoing eerily in the silent night. I trusted that Sainte was following, but I couldn’t be certain about the priest—he might have been lost in a snowdrift.
My arms and legs grew numb, the icy chill seeping through layers of clothing. My wool scarf covering my face was dampened from breath condensation andfrozen to my skin, each exhale creating a frosty barrier. My clothes, soaked through with snow and sweat, had turned to solid ice, weighing me down and hindering my movements. Hunger gnawed at me—I hadn’t eaten since the wagon ride, unable to carry rations.
I stumbled and fell face-first. The icy sting assaulted my cheeks, almost burning my skin. I tried to move my hands, but they barely twitched. The chill numbed my fingers, sapping strength from my bones with every passing second. Each deep breath turned into a choked gasp as the wet snow filled my mouth and nostrils, suffocating me. It felt like drowning, and I fought to free my face, to roll over, to sit up—anything to escape the oppressive cold that seeped into my very soul.
I moaned and struggled, slowly fading into darkness.
Something shifted me, rolling me onto my back. Ice forced my eyelids shut, frozen in place.
Warm hands, almost scorching, pressed against my cheeks, thawing the frost. I moaned, attempting to turn away from the intense heat, but they held me firm, forcing me to thaw. After a moment, the touch moved to my eyes, melting the freeze, and I coaxed them open. I blinked and squinted against the brightness, struggling to discern the figure that shielded me from the snow.
Golden hair cascaded from the woman’s head, wind teasing it into a wild dance. She wore a wool scarf, shielding the worst of the torrent. Unnaturally bright green eyes glowed with light as she smiled down at me. Her skin bore a warm bronze hue, reminiscent of those from coastal regions. Her mouth moved as she lowered her hands to my shoulders, but her words were lost in the roaring gale.
I gawked at her, wondering who she was and why she was helping me. Gratitude welled within, and I would’ve thanked her for saving me, but my frozen lips wouldn’t allow it.
A bone-aching warmth expanded through me from her touch. Heat radiated from her in a way that shouldn’t be possible.
