Upon waking, Aurora’s hands and wrists were once again bound in the manacles, and there was no remaining evidence of the snow that had blanketed this entire area before. Her throat was parched, and her stomach had that hollow empty feeling that went deeper than hunger. The last time she had taken a soul, she had slept for days afterward.

She looked around, trying to find some way to gauge how much time had passed. The Stormlord was nowhere to be seen, and the fire was long out. She did not smell even a hint of smoke or ash.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the usual lightning flash of the storm in her chest, only now the pattern had changed. Between flickers of skyfire, there were billowing spirals of pearlescent, snowy flecks that looked as if they were caught up in the wind.

Hesitating, she searched inside her for that new addition, and jerked back when she felt that same voracious, seething presence that she had sensed in the storm. It was weaker now, but it was there all the same, woven inside her own soul.

She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, tears chasing each other down her temples as she lay prone and shackled and forever changed in the dirt.

Eventually she became aware of someone approaching—two someones, in fact. Her heart leaped into her throat and for a moment she dared to hope.

Please, please, please.

But as they drew nearer, she felt the mass of dark spirits that could only be following the Stormlord. She was too weak to ascertain who the other person was, not without making herself vulnerable to all those spirits. Her heart hammered, fearing the worst. If he had captured Kiran too … She swallowed, trying not to be swept away by panic, and failing miserably.

When the Stormlord ducked out of the trees, dragging another half-conscious man with him, it was not Kiran he brought. But she did recognize the man. He had dark curly hair and bronze skin. Blood marred his nose and mouth, and the last she had heard, he had been captured by her friends.

Casimir.

The Stormlord had made contact with the rebellion. The question now was whether that contact had been amicable. He hauled Casimir closer, the man’s legs struggling and failing to keep up with his pace. He kept pulling until he drew even with Aurora, then he threw Casimir to the ground.

“Stay or you die,” the Stormlord growled, holding up a hand crackling with skyfire in threat.