Lyra didn’t answer, instead she just stared at the mist rolling across the lake, watching it swirl like pale silk brushing the surface of the water. The cold air bit her cheeks, but the chill didn’t reach the deeper parts of her, not when Kieran knelt beside her, steady and real, his boots half sunk in snow, his hand resting on the ground for balance.

“Better?” he asked again, softer this time.

Lyra let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Yes,” she said. “It’s ...