“Maybe they presume that if you’re here in a storm, you can melt snow for water,” said Bitterblue.

“You can do what you want,” said Lovisa. “I don’t drink snow-water tea in dirt rooms.”

Briefly, Bitterblue lost her temper. She grabbed a pot, marched out of the hut, and plunked it onto the ground. She watched with screaming impatience as practically none of the fast-falling snow landed in the pot. Who did Lovisa think she was, trying to out-snob a queen? Did she imagine that Bitterblue wanted to spend this day in a claustrophobic hut in a hill, instead of looking for the friends who thought she was dead? Her own sister! And Giddon, Giddon!

“Balls!” she shouted, in Lingian.

Then she jumped as Lovisa’s curious voice spoke behind her. “What does balls mean?”

“Balls,” Bitterblue repeated in frustration, as if that were an explanation. Then she said the word in Keepish, but Lovisa was clearly unenlightened.

“Like, balls to play a game with?” said Lovisa. “Is that a swear word in Lingian?”

“No!” said Bitterblue. “Like a man’s scrotum!”

“Oh! You call that balls?”

“Yes!”

“We call it kittens,” said Lovisa. “Because they’re so delicate.”

This undid Bitterblue. She laughed so hard that she had to lean her hand on Lovisa’s shoulder, gasping. “That’s my favorite thing in Winterkeep,” she finally said.

“That’s fair,” said Lovisa, “since mainly you’ve been trapped in an attic.” Then she smiled, a smile that made her look so young suddenly, and so sad, that all Bitterblue could think was that she was going to help this girl, one way or another.

“What do you think?” she said, even though she’d already decided. “I badly want to go on. But it’s snowing hard and I’m quite sure my foot is bleeding again.”

“There are horror stories about people who get caught in storms in Torla’s Neck,” said Lovisa. “If you want us to stay in this hole till it stops, I don’t care. Anyway, neither of us slept much last night.”

“That’s true,” said Bitterblue, relieved.

Inside, Lovisa sat on one of the mattresses, her back propped against the wall, and watched as Bitterblue started the fire. Then Lovisa began to remove her shoes and socks.

“They don’t smell good,” she said, holding her socks out to the queen, “but you should wear them. Those shoes are rubbing your feet raw.”

“If I take your socks away, the same will happen to your feet.”

“I don’t mind hurting,” Lovisa said simply. Then she laid herself down.

—

They both slept, for a long time. There was little else to do.

Then, in the middle of the night, Bitterblue woke to a howling wind.