But years had passed, for all that she did not know how many. The keep provided her with what little she needed, the cellars never quite running dry, the garden never quite giving up, and the scent of baking bread never quite abandoning the ovens. There had been a time when she hated the witch for those small mercies. Each was a reminder that the body she wore was human, and each tied her, albeit loosely, to a life she longed to forget. In time, the hatred too had passed, turning into a bitter gratitude that she tried not to think about, just as she ignored the passing of the years while she herself remained unchanged.

Now, though, the days lined up behind her like a silent army, grim and determined, secure in the knowledge that their numbers gave them the advantage.

Rowan was mortal.

The years would steal her, little by little, and the happiness she’d found would blow like snow away over the mountains. The rose had rooted, and blossomed. So the witch had promised.

These thoughts only came to her in moments like these, when the north wind howled and clawed against the shutters, calling for her and raging when she did not answer. She could not, not with Rowan sleeping in her arms, not with death so close already. She could only wait for the night to pass and dawn to bring Rowan back to her, free of ghosts and curses, the light promising only the sweet, sharp taste of joy.

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

A twig snapped somewhere in the frozen forest. I knew the difference now between the crack of frozen sap and the careful tread of game. The wolf crouched beside me. Her ears swiveled, listening to something out of the range of my own hearing, and I watched her watch the woods, relying on her stronger senses.

She no longer bore any resemblance to the scrawny sack of fur and bones I had scooped up off the stable floor. Her shoulders came to my hip, still smaller than her siblings, but larger than any dog I had ever seen. White frosted the black fur around her ruff, and her muzzle was darker than shadow, a sharp contrast to the gleam of teeth beneath.