The count skidded to a stop. They all did, barely believing they’d been so caught out in the open. They couldn’t hide without shelter or nearby buildings, even trees. They were exposed.

And the dragon saw them.

Brother Qown knew they were about to die.

Aeyan’arric could’ve killed them in an instant. Qown didn’t possess nearly enough skill in battle magic to fend off a dragon. They carried no weapons that might affect such a creature. Aeyan’arric was larger than the town.

Count Janel stood still. The dragon and the girl stared at each other.

Then Aeyan’arric launched herself into the air and flew away, sweeping north.

Silence lingered over the frozen town.

Brother Qown couldn’t be certain what had saved them, but he had his suspicions. He didn’t think it was mercy. Rather, Brother Qown suspected Aeyan’arric hadn’t killed them for the same reason he wouldn’t kill a beetle if he saw one in the woods—what care did he have for the fate of beetles?

As Aeyan’arric took to the air, Janel ran toward the town for all the good it would serve. Every resident was dead.

Brother Qown couldn’t help but wonder just how closely the tragedy here had followed the pattern of Mereina. Had a white-skinned Doltari witch released a cloud of magic blue smoke here too? Or was this the dragon’s random attack?

It had been a very long time since Quur had seen a rampaging dragon.

When they caught up with the count, she’d fallen to her knees in the middle of town. Her eyes were bright and wet.

The temperature near her felt warmer than it should, given the surrounding ice. And that temperature grew less tolerable by the second. The ice under Janel’s knees began to melt, uncovering spring grass.

Sir Baramon drew his sword, looking around as if expecting some new attack.

“Foal, you mustn’t,” Dorna whispered. “Stop this.”

A choking sob came from the Count of Tolamer.

Dorna put a hand on Janel’s shoulder. “Please child. Stop.”

The thawed grass near Janel’s feet burst into flame. Dorna removed her hand and backed away.

“We should find shelter,” Brother Qown offered, not certain what else he could say. The sky grew darker with every passing minute. The storms Aeyan’arric’s passing summoned were on their way.

“There’s no time,” Sir Baramon said.

“Count, I know—” Brother Qown cleared his throat, feeling the panic rise. He was speaking just to speak, with no goal. He had no idea how to persuade Janel to stop using a spell-gift—one she may not have consciously been aware she possessed. Did she even realize she was thawing the ice? That she was setting nearby objects on fire?