She looked at her father, and found his eyes had shifted away from her. Following his gaze, she saw that the stream had changed. The cold, clear water had thickened and shaded through pink and into red; a river of blood washed off her hands and flowed through the pure white landscape like a wandering knife-cut.

Alice looked from the stream to her hands, then desperately back up at her father.

It’s not my fault! It’s not!

He didn’t look angry. He’d never looked angry, not with her. Just that little frown, the frown that broke her heart, that said he’d expected better. He shook his head, slowly, then touched the brim of his cap and turned away.

Wait! Alice struggled to her feet and ran after him, blood pattering and steaming beside her. Wait, wait, please wait! Her strides stretched, snow swallowing her feet, and something twisted beneath her. Suddenly she was falling—

—into a hard, narrow bed, moonlight painting a familiar pattern across the wall of her room near the top of Geryon’s house.

She was breathing hard, heart slamming against her ribs. It was cold; she’d kicked the sheets and the blanket to the floor, and knocked her pillow aside. Her nightshirt was damp with sweat.

The same dream. She’d had the dream, or something like it, every few nights since she’d come back from Esau’s fortress. It made her want to yell in frustration.

I know, all right? Father wouldn’t want her to take revenge for his sake. She knew that, but the hot beast that roared inside her wouldn’t let her rest. What else am I supposed to do? Be his nice little apprentice, until . . . what? Until I’m grown up and I can get away from here?

She couldn’t live like that. Father would understand, she wanted to shout at the dream. He would understand.

Or if he wouldn’t—well, he was dead, and it didn’t matter anymore.

Alice got up and stalked across the room, through the long-eared shadows thrown by the pair of stuffed rabbits in the window that were all she had left of her father’s house. Anger seethed and roiled inside her, and for a moment she felt like if she didn’t yell she might explode. She stopped, breathing hard, and swallowed the feeling. I can’t afford to show it. Not yet.

Someday, though.

Little by little, her breathing calmed, and her heartbeat slowed. Alice picked up the sheets and blankets, remade the bed, and adjusted her pillow. She climbed back into the narrow bed, staring at the shadows of the rabbits for a moment, then closed her eyes.

Someday Geryon would understand just how badly he’d hurt her.

The next morning, Ashes was waiting outside her door.