“I will say this for Readers,” she said, lips stretching in a wolfish smile that reminded Alice of the labyrinthine Torment. “You do not lack for courage. Or for arrogance. But unless you plan to be my guest until you can grow your own crop, how do you plan to hold this competition?”

“Give me a few minutes and one of your trees,” Alice said. “If I can produce a more impressive flower than any of yours, then Erdrodr comes with us.”

Helga was still smiling. “And if you cannot?”

“You let Flicker go,” Alice said, “and I’ll do whatever you like.”

“Reader,” Flicker whispered. “Are you sure about this?”

“Not at all,” Alice whispered back. “But you told me to think of something . . .”

“I was hoping for something a bit less mad.”

“Done,” Helga said. “Having my own Reader would be a useful thing. Do you need a rest to prepare yourself?”

“No,” Alice said.

“Then let’s waste no further time.”

They all gathered in the courtyard, and passersby stopped their work at the sight of their leader and the tiny visitors. Helga prowled among her trees, examining the pale flowers and running her hand across the petals. She muttered to herself as she went, finally halting in front of a particularly large specimen stippled with blue and red. The ice giant broke the flower off with a crack like an icicle snapping, and carried it in both hands back to Alice.

“This is the finest flower in my garden,” she said, her voice softening. “Have you ever seen its like?”

It was beautiful, Alice had to admit. Layers of delicate ice petals, so thin that they looked as though they would melt under her breath, opened outward from a central bud. Some were tinted a very faint red, and others a deep, icy blue, giving the whole flower a dappled look. And, Alice was surprised to find, it had a sweet, cold scent, a bit like peppermint.

“If you wish to back down,” Helga said, quiet enough that only Alice could hear, “I will permit it.”

Alice looked around. The edges of the courtyard were full of ice women now, in robes, furs, and bits of armor. All their eyes were on her. Flicker looked as nervous as Ashes walking on the edge of a bath, and Erdrodr’s face was ashen and pale.

“It’s a beautiful flower,” Alice said. “But I’ll give it a try, if it’s all the same to you.”

Helga’s scarred lip twisted into a sneer. “Then pick whatever tree you like, Reader, and let us see your magic.”

Alice nodded and walked past Helga, to the edge of the grid of potted trees. She stopped at one that had no flowers at all, and put her hand against it while she took hold of the tree-sprite thread. She could feel the tree, ancient and tired, with only the feeble light of the stars to draw on.