The smell was the first thing she noticed: ash and cordite. Before she even saw the lodge, she knew the damage must be serious. What she hadn’t expected was that three of the eight walls would have fallen, that the beautiful skybridges would have collapsed and the buildings would be gutted. Charred and smoking stone littered the snow-covered ground. The Hunting Lodge was a ruin.

“How did this happen?” Twelve gasped.

The others had come to stand alongside her.

“One word: you,” Five said, looking impressed in spite of himself. “I still don’t understand what in Ember you did!”

Dog shot an angry glance at Five but no one contradicted him.

Twelve stared at the carnage with growing horror. “I aimed for Morgren,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I never . . . I never thought . . .” She broke off, too shocked to speak.

Looking at the destruction seemed to be physically painful for Hoarfrost and he turned away from it with a grunt. “What you did saved us.” He spoke as though trying to convince himself and didn’t look at her. “The tunnels were collapsed, the gates locked—there was nowhere for us or them to go. We woulda slaughtered each other if you hadn’t . . . done what you did.”

“Th-that’s true,” Seven said, stepping closer to Twelve.

Hoarfrost’s eyes flicked between them. “Ye both have some form of magic,” he said eventually. It wasn’t a question.

Twelve glanced uncertainly at Seven. “Yes,” the other girl said simply.

Hoarfrost’s gaze swept over the ruins once more and he nodded slowly. “It’s been a long time since a witch called the lodge home. Perhaps this is the cost.”

“This is not the fault of Twelve,” Dog said, the barest hint of a growl in his voice. “Blame rests with Victory and the goblins.”

“You reckon I don’t know that?” Hoarfrost snapped.

Twelve couldn’t look at the remains of the lodge anymore either—she turned away, taking in her surroundings for the first time. She was standing outside one of hundreds of tents, set a safe distance back from the lodge. Firepits burned at regular intervals and Hunters were building a rough wooden palisade wall around the camp.

“This is it?” Twelve whispered, guilt making her voice crack. “This is the lodge now?”

“Yes and no,” Hoarfrost said, his eyes finally resting on her again, his voice gentler than she expected. “The lodge has always been more than its walls, more than its weapons. It’s the people that make a place, Twelve.” He took a slow, deep breath. “An’, on that note, I reckon I should thank you.”

Twelve blinked, sure she’d misheard. Thank her?