She had found freedom, here in the snows. It was the kind of freedom that had to be taken, earned each and every day from the cold, but it was enough. It was more than enough. She still had her Hounds, and she still had her forests. Those were the things she could not bear to lose. Even if . . .

She stopped.

There was no even.

There was no if.

She would not let the witch unmake what had been made. There would be no spring, here. Spring brought only death.

The Huntress tore the vine from the wall, calling down the snows in a rain of rose petals.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

I watched her ride out into the blizzard from my window. The snow parted once, and I saw dark hair stream out from a white hood, and then nothing.

Days stretched, and it was dark even in the garden with the wind scrabbling at the glass roof and throwing snow in through the arrow slits of the outer hallways. I found an old fur long enough to fashion into a cloak and ratty enough that the attentions of the pup did little to detract from its appearance. Not that I cared. It was warm.

The keep fell silent without the Huntress. The pack was gone, and the remaining she-wolf kept to her den in the stables. My pup waxed and waned, bright-eyed and playful some days, listless and lethargic on others. “You cannot die,” I told her, shaking her gently as she turned her muzzle away from the food I’d chewed for her.

I had said the same thing to my mother.

“You can die,” I amended, looking the pup straight in her blue eyes. “But I will be very, very disappointed in you if you do.” The pup wiggled in my grip, desperate to lick my face.

On the fourth day of the Huntress’s absence, my feet took me to the tower, and I paused at the foot of the stairs. No wolf blocked my way. Light and whirling snow spilled in from the arrow slits, leaving drifts on the steps. I tucked the pup under one arm and placed a tentative foot on the first step. When no other creature materialized, I took another, and another, climbing up past empty rooms with doors half open with a purpose that set my teeth on edge.

There was a room at the top of these stairs. I had seen it, coming in out of the snow that first day. A room at the top of the tower with a single lit candle, in a castle that had stood empty for days before our arrival. No candle burned that long, and candles did not light themselves. I would find answers there.

I had to.