Hal, still unconscious, had proven more unwieldy than she’d hoped. He lay sprawled out with his head in her lap, his thick, snow-matted hair whipping into his face. Carefully, Wren disentangled herself from him and rolled him onto his side. As she adjusted the hood tighter around him, his arm fell limply off the edge of the seat.

She unbuckled Collins’s bag. Whining hinges opened to reveal clothes folded in neat, crisp piles and a thin folder tucked into the side. She leafed through it, pinning the papers with her thumb as the wind tried to tear them away from her.

And there, she found it.

Shoved in alongside his passport, his bills, and a few letters was a poster. In bold, black letters was the word WANTED. That son of a bitch. It figured he’d betray her. The bounty was at least triple what she could offer him.

Replacing everything exactly as she found it, Wren called, “Can you stop?”

“What?” Collins turned halfway over his shoulder again. “Didn’t you say this was urgent?”

Wren gestured to Hal, lying deathly still. “I’ll double your pay if you stop in the next town. My friend isn’t holding up well.”

“No can do, miss,” Collins said. “Like I said, this is the only way that’s safe.”

“I’m afraid I must insist.”

With an edge to his voice, he said, “Sit down.”

“Not until you tell me where we’re going!” Wren shoved his shoulder—and immediately regretted it. She’d meant it as more of a warning than an attack, but it was enough to provoke him.

He reeled on her, slackening his hold on the reins. The dogs overcorrected the sled’s course, and it lurched, skidding sideways along a patch of ice. Wren stumbled backward, clinging to the edge of her seat to steady herself.

“Are you insane?” he yelled. “We’re going to Danu, just like you asked.”

The dogs barreled ahead, howling. Fear, cold and stiff as icicles, pierced her heart. Her options raced by, quick and ungraspable as the screaming winds. She could try to take over the sled, but the thought of hurting Collins by mistake made her hands tremble.

She was paralyzed.

If she did nothing, they’d both be arrested. She would be Severed. Or worse.

Do something, she told herself. Move.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Wren slipped off her glove and dug her fingers into the back of Collins’s neck. “Sorry!”

Her magic flooded into his nervous system, and Wren felt the moment his consciousness flickered out. He slumped forward, the reins slipping from his deadened hands. Bent over the front seat, Wren fumbled for them, her eyes stinging in the wind. The dogs veered off course, their paws scrabbling in the wet snow as the sled teetered dangerously close to the precipice. She whispered frantic prayers as they strained against their harnesses.