Then, behind her, he moves closer. The rustling of trees grows loud, and the brightness from his skin intensifies. He needs her to do this.

Her fingers wrap around the Winter Queen’s staff.

His sunlight warms her, and his radiance makes her shadow fall on the ground in front of her. The heat grows as he whispers, “Please. Let her be the one. . . . Please. This time . . .”

She holds on to the wooden staff as she straightens. She turns to face him, blinking against the brightness that fills him. Until this moment, she has believed, but as she holds it, his light fades away and an impossible chill consumes her body.

Her skin covers with frost, and she collapses. Ice spreads out from under her now prone body, freezing the ground that had only moments before been boiling mud. She can barely move from the pain, and her teeth chatter as she tries to speak.

A very large white wolf approaches her, and she knows that the wolf is as magical as the boy she’s fallen in love with. She rests her face in the wolf’s warm fur, and then she turns her head to Keenan and says, “I’m sorry I’m not . . . her.”

But he is walking away, no longer glowing, no longer even looking at her.

As she let the memories wash over her, Rika felt the tears that were slipping down her cheeks, and she wished that she had lit the fire before allowing herself to dwell on the folly of love. More years than she ever expected to live had passed since those days, but the chill was hard to forget, even here.

“Always a princess, never a queen.”

She looked up at the words, even though she knew who had spoken. No one else had the audacity to enter her home without her consent.

“Sionnach,” she greeted him quietly.