Another lurch, and the sled crested an embankment, up to safety. Wren’s relieved sob misted the air—just as the tracks hit an icy outcropping. The sled jolted, and her boots left the floor.

On reflex, she grabbed the back of Hal’s collar, and together, they tumbled off the side of the open-backed sled. For one moment, there was nothing but wind and darkness wailing around her. Then, a sickening crack, a stupefying burst of agony, as her head struck the ice. Hal’s dead weight crushed her as they landed in a heap, forcing the air from her lungs.

Far ahead of her, the dogs faded into the veil of the blizzard. Her vision swam with snow and stars as she shoved Hal off her, her breaths coming in long wheezes. As the pain pulsed in her skull, she heaved herself onto her knees and vomited.

Not good, she thought hazily. A concussion, most likely.

Exhaustion and nausea pulled her back down. As the cold seeped into her coat, she turned to look at Hal. The last thing she saw was a pair of black eyes regarding her through the flurries.

Then, darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The world howled as Wren blinked into consciousness.

She turned onto her side, already numb from cold, and looked for Hal. But as the white and black tendrils of the storm twisted and knotted around her, she realized that his imprint in the snow was all that remained of him. He’d left her.

And he’d taken her stuff, that bastard.

At least the grogginess blunted some of the terror. The blow to her head had thickened her thoughts to molasses and attenuated her focus. But she knew, deep down, that if she didn’t get it together, this would be bad. She didn’t know how long she’d been out, and while her extremities were numb, they weren’t frostbitten. Not yet, anyway.

The longer she stayed curled up here, the more heat she would lose and the quicker she would die. Once her core temperature dropped enough, her control over her magic would falter. Then her mental faculties would slow—followed soon enough by her heart.

No, she couldn’t die here. Not after she’d come so far.

Wren rubbed her temples and pushed as much magic as she could spare into her head to ease the concussion. Her fingers came away caked with blood. The wind had already covered Hal’s tracks, but he couldn’t have gotten far in weather like this.

She dragged herself to her feet and began to walk.