Morning broke over the horizon, christening the evergreens in golden light. After the previous days trials, Raven and Alyssa had bedded down at the mouth of the cave, sheltered from the coarse mountain wind.

Half asleep, Alyssa groped along the bedroll, searching for the warm body she'd grown accustomed to sleeping beside. When her hand found only a cool, empty spot, she unrolled herself from the bearskin blanket, blew a lock of hair out of her eyes and squinted into the daylight.

Like always, the bone chilling cold greeted her with a slap to the face. "Raven?"

She looked over from tending a pot on the fire. "Did you sleep?"

The Hudar always woke before her, maintaining a level of alertness that, despite the circumstances, Alyssa couldn't quite fathom. Two weeks on the run had left her weary enough to want to enjoy sleep whenever the luxury presented itself, despite the chill.

"Not enough." She stood and groaned as several vertebrae crackled down her back. "Winter on not, I swear, that sun rises earlier each day."

"Lay back down and rest. We've the time."

Without the lieutenant and his soldiers following, she'd meant. For now they'd escaped the king's men. And considering how far north they'd trekked, Alyssa doubted they'd run into another company. They'd crossed into the wilds, the land of wolves and caribou and ice giants.

"No, no." She eased onto a split log beside the fire, shrugged her coat closer and stomped her feet to get the blood flowing. "I'd rather hear your plans for today's adventure."

"I plan to rest. All of us, the horses included, are in dire need of it."

Avarice and the bay gelding—whom Raven refused to name—wandered in a patch of trampled snow, churned by their efforts to find grass beneath the frozen crust. They'd slimmed during the journey, losing precious fat stored for the winter. Without the equine's dependable persistence, they wouldn't have made it out of Olisgard. They wouldn't have made it across the wastelands. Up the mountain. Through the cave.

And for that, Alyssa was eternally grateful. "How much grain is left?"

"Rationed, we've three days. Four if we stretch it. After breakfast we'll head down the valley and let them get a proper drink at the river. As the snow thins, they should find more grass to forage."

"And after that, where do you plan to go?"

"If we intend on surviving, we need to head further west, to the high pastures where the Hudar winter their herds." Raven shifted on the log. "If there are any Hudar left."

Alyssa's chest tightened. She turned towards the sea of trees across the valley, to where they'd seen the campfire the previous night. "I've a strong feeling the reports fudged the numbers to appease Kenos. Your people would not have been defeated as easily as the soldiers boasted."

"My people." Raven tugged at the scarves around her neck. "I've a strong feeling my people will argue that claim."

"Oh, come now. Look at you! Who would deny your heritage? You're tough as bear hide, ride like the wind, and escaped the chains of slavery to return to your birthright. I will not sit here and let you doubt. We've time to rest, but we've none for second guesses."

"You really haven't slept enough. You don't know what you're saying."

"I know exactly what, you rotten thing. I've put up with your moroseness far too long and it's high time you'd gotten over it."

"Mmhmm." Raven ladled hot water into two metal mugs and handed one to Alyssa. "Have some tea."

"What?" She took it eagerly, cupping the warmth in both hands. "I thought we'd run out?"

"We had." Raven sipped her own mug, eyes closed. "But fortunately, spruce needles make an adequate alternative."

Alyssa inhaled the crisp evergreen and let the hot liquid sooth through her like a healing balm. "It's . . . is there honey in this? Where did we get honey?"

"I've saved it for dire times, when something sweet is needed to keep me from strangling you."

"Oh, it's working." She took another sip, savoring the moment. "And I've enjoyed our time together, too."

O.O.O.O.O

The task was remarkably simple. Each evening, Melissah snuck into the palace, navigating the servant's tunnels in her never-ending quest for answers. Quiet as a stalking cat, she'd followed soldiers and officers, piecing together an array of information. In the days since Alyssa's disappearance, Melissah had compounded the nation's knowledge of the situation and deduced one very simple, overlooked fact.

It was such that she needed to explain, and in all of Norr there was only one person she trusted to listen. Dressed in her unremarkable street attire, Melissah let herself into the dimly lit shop and strode to the counter. "Santiago?"

A floorboard creaked within the recesses of shelves. "Is that my favorite little thief?"

"Unless you've acquired another."

The tall, ebony-and-auburn-masked man emerged from the darkness, focusing that one discerning eye on her. "And what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I've something of interest to report."

"I'm all ears, my dear."

"The queen is with Raven the Hudar."

Santiago snorted. "And just where have you been these past two weeks? Everyone knows that."

"You misunderstand. Alyssa left with Raven, willingly."

He paused. Leaned until his elbows rested on the table, bringing his solitary gaze in line with her own. "You're sure?"

After so many years as Alyssa's right-hand, she'd obtained an innate understanding of how the woman worked. She was present that moment Alyssa and Raven had first met unceremoniously in the hall. Most wouldn't have paid the interaction a second glance. But she saw how Alyssa looked at Raven. She heard the words spoken—and unspoken—between them. And that moment, coupled with a number of seemingly insignificant things, painted a clear picture.

Love, however secret, could not be contained.

"Undoubtedly sure," she said.

Santiago turned, hands folded at the small of his back, and paced around the counter to stand before her. "Then it seems the proud woman you so admire has turned a traitor. It is your civic duty to report such information to your king."

She couldn't quite believe what she'd just heard. "Don't tell me you've found some moral high ground in the time we've been apart."

"You know me too well." His voice suggested a smile. He tilted his head. "Besides, after our last conversation, I've suspected this alleged kidnapping for some time now."

That was certainly interesting. "And what lead you to that conclusion?"

Santiago tapped his mask where his nose should have been. "Let's just say that a little lion told me our mysterious prophet has eyes for no man."

Melissah couldn't help but smirk. "Well, that's one way to phrase . . . little lion?" Only one person in Norr had attained that moniker, and she was the last person Melissah would suspect of ever speaking to Santiago. "Surely you don't mean who I think you mean?"

"I do, and you do me a grave injustice. I've a mind to take that as insult."

"You've truly had correspondence with Priestess Khalimat?"

"What reason would I have to lie to you?"

That was an angle for information she hadn't yet considered. The Lioness of the South had tamed the Hudar witch—if such a thing was even possible—and sent her to Olisgard. Did the priestess know what King Kenos was after? Did she know that Raven would deliver? Or had she simply let the Hudar loose to see what chaos ensued?

"What else did she say?"

"A number of things I've yet to decipher."

"Now you're lying to me."

He chuckled. "I was mistaken. You give me too much credit. Khalimat's as shrewd if not more so than the queen herself. Her intentions are written between the words, not in them. What information she wanted to give did not come without thought or tact."

"Does she know what Raven is up to?"

"Heavens, no. How can you predict what a prophet will do? She can see the future, after all."

"Raven unknowingly handed over Daskis. If she could see everything play out, why did she let that happen?"

"Quite right," Santiago said. "Which begs the question; to what extent do these powers reach? If Alyssa went with her willingly, did Raven part the veil of time and look ahead to see how this ordeal would end? Does Raven seek to alter that future, or let the cards fall as they may?"

Melissah had pondered that herself. "Perhaps she's seen the outcome and aims to see it through. Knowing Alyssa, once her mind is made, Raven would have no other choice."

Santiago clasped his hands together. "Oh, how I've missed our conversations."

As did she. Notorious fence or not, Santiago was like a father figure, which contributed to her unusual trust in a man most people feared. "I'm afraid you'll have to continue missing them. I'm leaving in the morning."

Santiago's light mood vanished. His eye narrowed. "Leaving? For where?"

Melissah clutched the satchel slung over her shoulder. "I made a promise to deliver this package to Alyssa, and I aim to find her."

O.O.O.O.O

By midday Alyssa and Raven had made it down the valley, leading their horses on a winding game trail towards the river. As hoped the snow had thinned, and they let their mounts stop to graze whenever the opportunity arose. Conversation was sparse but not strained, despite the dwindling supplies. Her belly grumbled, yet Alyssa's moral remained high.

"It really is beautiful land, this Hudar. Beautiful and terrifying." She swiped at a low hanging branch, launching a dusting of snow into the air. "We've left the comforts of civilization, after all, and I'm not ashamed to voice my concern."

"Do you know how to hunt?" Raven asked.

"Of course. I've bow hunted deer."

"With your king, in a hunting party?" she mused. "You've hunted for sport."

"Yes, for sport." The woman had earned the right to poke fun at her, especially now, when such things had higher stakes. "I'm out of my element, no need to mask your judgment."

"What about smaller game? Have you hunted hare?"

"No, but I've been eyeing those squirrels. I imagine they're delicious. I crave fresh meat more than a bath—and I've a fierce need for one of those."

"As do I," Raven said. "But unless you want a glacial swim in the river, you'll have to settle for a sponge bath. We'll set camp early today and I'll show you how to make snare traps—" She froze mid-step. Her horse slid to a stop beside her, ears twitching.

Alyssa held tight to Avarice and scanned the evergreens. Nothing stirred but branches in the wind, but the hair pricked at the nape of her neck.

Raven grunted and dropped to one knee, exposing her to a second arrow that pierced her chest and knocked her to the ground. The gelding spooked and bolted down the trail.

Alyssa's world constricted to just that image; the woman she loved splayed in the dirt. Air wouldn't fill her lungs. She lurched towards Raven, heartbeat howling in her ears. "No—no!"

A hooded figure materialized from the tree line, cloaked in tattered black robes, and aimed a knocked arrow at Alyssa's face.

O.O.O.O.O

King Dominic Kenos strode into the officer's quarters, taking stock of the men gathered around the table for supper. The most distinguished of them, Captain Roberts held an air of calm confidence that Kenos admired, if not hated.

"Well?" he snapped. "Any news?"

Roberts set down his utensils, wiped his mouth on a napkin and stood to meet the king. "I delivered the report before mealtime, your grace."

"And I read it. There was no mention of the lieutenant leading the company to Torc Waterfall."

"Because we have not heard from him yet," Roberts said. After a lengthy pause, he added, "The snows are heavy. There's a chance they were delayed. The last correspondence assured that Whelms and his men were on the Hudar's trail, and no more than a day's ride from the waterfall."

"And when was that correspondence?"

Roberts cleared his throat. "Three days ago, your grace."

"Then you see my concern. Which company is closest to Whelms?"

"Farther south, at the Spire route. Three battalions are posted along the goat paths heading into Hudar territory."

They would never make it in time to catch the witch's trail. In a matter of days the snows would bury all hopes of finding her or his wife. How many men did he have out looking for Alyssa? Seven, eight thousand? Why did he still feel so helpless?

He ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "What of Melissah Rossario?" Even as he asked, he knew the answer.

"Still nothing, your grace."

That little urchin was involved somehow, and she had better hope she never crossed his path again. He would love nothing more than to squeeze her neck flat. "And what of the inquiry leading to Brother Favir's death? Had anyone seen him?"

The captain nodded once. "Favir entered the city from the southern gate and was admitted into the grounds by the sergeant on duty. After that, he proceeded directly to the kitchen, where the cook and staff said he acted like a right prick while demanding to know the whereabouts of the prophet. He then went into the garden courtyard and was found there dead several hours later, along with the guard. As far as I've gathered, the man was very unpleasant."

Kenos almost laughed, reminded of the first time he'd met Favir. Clearly the position had gone to the priest's head, and even a blind and deaf man could sense that Raven hated him. Despite everything, he couldn't blame the witch for killing Favir. He even understood the need to kill the guard afterwards. What he didn't understand was why Raven had taken Alyssa. She could have just as easily left Olisgard on her own, free to do as she pleased. Free to plot the demise of his kingdom. Instead, she'd taken his queen hostage, heading straight into the unbearable winter mountains.

Truly, only a mad person would undertake such a journey, especially while dragging along a wily, unwilling woman. How had Raven managed to make it to Torc waterfall with Alyssa? Surely she'd attempted escape, or at least slowed their progress. If anything, the two women made remarkable time from Olisgard to the edges of Hudar.

"I will send a fresh raven to the lieutenant of sixth battalion," Roberts said. "Instruct him to send a team north. Maybe they can intercept the witch when she heads for the plains beyond the mountains."

"You think that's where she's headed?"

"There would be no other reason to have gone north as she did." Roberts fiddled with his belt. "Your grace, may I speak plainly?"

His stomach gurgled. Nothing had settled with him in days. "You may."

"You need to prepare yourself for the possibility that Alyssa won't return. She . . ." he cleared his throat. "Well. There's a chance she's already dead."

The frankness of the statement made Kenos break out into a cold sweat. He had to consider it—he was the fucking king. The fate of the kingdom fell on his shoulders, and even in this time of utter despair, he had to keep his wits about him. No matter how distasteful.

He took a breath to speak. "I've considered that, Roberts."

"There's also the possibility she doesn't want to return."

That caught him off guard. "What? You asked to speak plainly, not pull words from your ass!"

"I mean no disrespect," Roberts said, palms raised in placation. "But looking at the totality of circumstances, it's plausible. She was off that morning, you said so yourself."

"Yes, she was upset with me for making a fool of myself at the fete! That's no reason to . . . " Something fell into place then. The celebration of his conquest of Hudar. He'd mocked the victory before Raven and Alyssa had torn into him like an angry wolf. Would you not allow her an ounce of pride? she had said.

Alyssa cared for Raven.

Favir came to take Raven away and she killed him.

Because Raven cared for Alyssa.

"No." He rocked a step backwards, mind reeling. "No, that isn't—she wouldn't."

Roberts seemed entirely uncomfortable with this revelation. "Either way, we'll get her back, your grace. We'll get her back and you can ask her yourself."

O.O.O.O.O

Alyssa's heart plummeted into the abyss. A second cloaked figure emerged from the opposite side of the trail, covered head to toe in black robes. Then another. And another. Six in total encircled Raven, bows drawn tight. The original figure and two others remained focused on Alyssa, one close enough to see the whites of his blue eyes.

"You fucking bastards!" she bellowed, moments away from being shot herself. "She's one of you! She's Hudar!"

Raven gasped, sprawled in the dirt, two arrows protruding from her chest. "Alyssa, don't."

A tenth figure appeared from the foliage and lowered his hood, revealing close-cut black hair and tanned skin. He stalked right to Raven and loomed over her. "Move one inch and you die," he said. "After your traitorous queen dies first."

Alyssa blinked. Blinked again. These weren't Hudar—they were southern Norrians. But, who? How did they get here? How on earth did they find them?

One of the figures knelt beside Raven and clasped a silver band around her wrist. She screamed and thrashed. He punched her square in the jaw. Raven took the hit and kept fighting as they roughly bound her arms behind her back.

"Stop it, stop!" Alyssa pushed through the men and made it three strides towards Raven before the world turned to darkness.

O.O.O.O.O

A warm breeze blew through the open windows of Khalimat's study, carrying the heavenly aroma of roasting meat and herbs. Winter in the desert meant pleasantly cool nights, a blessed reprieve from the scorching sun.

A servant boy approached from the hall. Khalimat looked up from the books spread across her desk. "What is it?"

"For you, priestess." The young man handed her a piece of parchment.

She looked over the unbroken seal, noting the sigil of her temple guard, and popped the wax.

—It is done—

A slow smile curved her lips. "Alert the temple adepts," she said. "Tell them to ready the room in the cellar. My prophet is returning."