“I’m not so sure,” muttered Brum, pouring himself a tiny glass of brännvin. “The prince is capricious. His health has made him unpredictable and secretive.”

Hanne bristled at this. “He is in pain, Papa. Perhaps that’s why he isn’t always in good temper.”

“Perhaps.” Brum sat. He was choosing his words carefully. “He’s not fond of my advice. It’s possible he may take it out on you.”

“If that’s the case, there’s nothing we can do about it.” Hanne’s tone was matter-of-fact. “He is the crown prince. If he wishes to string me up by my toes, he may do it. If his mother the queen wishes to send Mila out into the snow barefoot, then she may do that too. But for now, all he has done is command us to join him for lunch, and I hardly see how we can refuse him.”

Ylva was smiling. “She’s right, you know. We’ve raised a very sensible daughter.”

Brum’s expression remained unyielding. “Just be on your guard, Hanne. And you too, Mila. The Ice Court is a sorry place for soft hearts.”

Niweh sesh, Nina thought as she and Hanne said their good nights.

I have no heart.

Two days later, Hanne put on one of her new gowns of sea-foam silk and Nina dressed in more modest rose wool. They’d been too deluged with invitations since Maidenswalk to do much more than try to keep up, but now Nina fastened a necklace of blue topaz around Hanne’s neck and said, “Your father was right.”

Hanne laughed. “Words I never expected to hear from your lips.”

“This is a dangerous time. You were healing the prince when we spoke to him the other day. You can’t keep doing that.”

“Why not? If I can offer some small comfort, I should.” She hesitated. “We can’t just abandon him. I know what it’s like not to measure up to what Fjerdans idealize. That’s a hurt that never goes away. And he has thousands of people staring at him, judging him. What if we could help him heal, help him become a better prince and someday a better king?”

Now, that was interesting. A tonic to Brum’s warmongering, someone who might guide Fjerda in the direction of peace. All of Nina’s instincts told her this could be worth the risk, a perfect complement to her gamble with the Grimjer queen. It just felt different when Hanne was taking the risk too.

“If he were to find out what you are—”

Hanne picked up her wrap. “How would he find out? I am the daughter of Fjerda’s most notorious witchhunter. I attended the Gäfvalle convent under the watchful eye of the Wellmother—”

“May she rest in misery.”