“Yes,” he said, some of the darkness lifting from his face as he looked at my sister. “But we were never given much of a choice, were we?”

“No.”

“I will let you see your father. But you have to tell me the truth.”

“The truth,” I repeated. That was, after all, what I had come here to do.

“About where you’ve been all these months, and about what happened to my father and brother.”

“You know where I’ve been. My father told you. My sisters told you. Tell him, Aspen.”

Aspen remained mute, her knuckles white on her stomach.

Her fear is not for me or for Avery, I suddenly understood. She is afraid for her child.

“Fine,” I said, pulling off my mitten and stepping further into the light. I held up my palm for Avery to see and watched the color drain from his face as he saw the rose bloom beneath my skin.

“This is the truth, Avery Lockland. Your father and your brother crossed the boundary. They did not tell my father what it meant, and so he plucked a single rose for his oldest daughter while your family killed two of the Huntress’s wolves. She killed them for it, and she spared my father, not knowing about the rose he had hidden in his cloak until he had returned. She came for the rose then, and she took me, too. Do not blame my father for the mistakes of yours.”

Rage twisted his handsome features. “It was your father who led mine into the mountains. Your father who poisoned him with empty promises.”

“Yes,” I said, lowering my hand. “But my father did not know what else roamed the snows.”

“Or perhaps he didn’t listen.”

I flinched, considering this possibility, then caught Aspen’s eye. Please, her face seemed to say.

“Avery,” I said, trying to soften my voice and reminding myself that in the end he had lost more than I. “I am sorry for what happened to your family, but my father did not lie to you. Please, let me see him.”

“She speaks the truth.”

All four of us started, turning to peer into the darkness. A woman stepped into the light, her weathered face familiar beneath its hood.

“You,” I said, recognizing the woman from the boundary.

“You know the old stories, Avery Lockland. She is marked by thorns.”

Avery looked horrified, for a moment, and then something in his face changed. “Her hand,” he said, pointing at me.

“Show me, child.” I turned over my naked palm, a warning prickling the hairs along the back of my neck. “There is only one reason why the Huntress would let this woman go, Avery Lockland, and you know it as well as I.”

Avery looked from me to the old woman. Comprehension dawned on his face slowly. “You may see your father.” He moved aside. “Aspen will take you.”