The gates of the Frostlands palace were quiet when she returned.

Too quiet.

Lyra’s mother slowed her steps as she reached the outer archway, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders. The night air felt heavier than it should have, thick with something that made her skin prickle. Her instincts screamed at her to turn back, to disappear again before anyone noticed her. But she forced herself forward anyway. She had already run too many times.

Two guards stepped out from the shadows the ...