Chapter 20

The royal hunt was still going when Anthea felt it.

She stood at the edge of the hunting grounds, frost trees rising around her with white bark shining like spears of ice, pale winter light slipping through the bare branches to glint on the soft fur over her shoulders.

Polite voices murmured nearby, blending with the faint call of hunting horns in the distance, while two Frostlands nobles stood close, smiling at everything she said as she spoke about the fine pelts they might bring ...