She stood and brushed her gown aside and turned toward the door. She would consult the dark priest. Perhaps the Dark Lady knew what was happening to her—if something was happening.

Lady Ragna swept down the corridors of Rook Castle, ignoring the looks from guards and servants. Snow fell outside the windows, and a chill began to take hold of the castle as winter settled in across the Magyr Mountains. As she walked along the halls, she turned her focus on her plans for the weeks ahead. It was time for Amara to take her final test with her dreamwalking gift. The girl was ordinary and mediocre when it came to her gift, but she would suffice for the upcoming missions. She wasn’t the first Ravenwood woman to simply carry the gift and nothing more. Unlike Selene . . .

Selene.

Her lips turned upward in a snarl. So much power. So much potential. And that traitor threw it all away.

She took in a long draught of air and let it out slowly. Nothing could be done about it now. She would finish training Amara and ensure that this time the job was finished and death was dealt. Not like that mistake with that servant girl, whatever her name was.

Then there was the empire.

A raven arrived yesterday with a coded message that Commander Orion was preparing his troops for when spring came, and the few men and women who were on this side of the wall were already arranging for his arrival. All she needed to do was keep the Great Houses in disarray and make sure they didn’t band together.

That’s where Amara would come in handy.

She reached the outer doors to the sanctuary and walked inside. The air was even chillier in here, like the ice caves to the south, where even on a hot summer’s day ice still formed along the ground and walls. She half expected to see ice adorning the obsidian pillars, but they were as black as ever without a glint of moisture. Twilight trickled in from the high windows above, pooling on the stone floor below. The platform ahead was empty. But not for long. She knew the priest came here every evening to light the candles for the Dark Lady. He would be here soon.

Sure enough, as she approached the platform, the small door to the right opened, and a lanky robed figure exited. He held a thin stick in one hand with a tiny flame at the top. He never glanced her way. Instead, he crossed to the retable, stopped, and began to light the candles.

Lady Ragna pulled her skirts back and went down on her knees before the platform, her head bowed in submission.

“Lady Ragna,” the dark priest said after a moment. “What brings you to the sanctuary?”

“A question,” she said, eyes on the stone floor. “And wisdom from the Dark Lady.”

The priest did not answer.

Lady Ragna looked up. The priest continued to light the candles along the retable. Silence stretched across the sanctuary. Only once all the candles were lit did the dark priest finally turn around. His hair was hidden beneath the cowl of his robe, and his face appeared gaunt within the shadow of the hood. “What is your question?” he asked as he brought his hands together within the folds of his robe.