Gwendolyn thrashed all through the night. Her dreams were plagued with memories of the night the Wildings attacked.

She would clutch Kieran's shirt and toss restlessly, muttering and mumbling incoherently, crying out in fear.

Kieran lay beside her all night, silently, holding her close. When her fever heightened, he soaked a piece of cloth in water and gently wiped her forehead, hoping it would bring her temperature down.

But by morning, she got worse. Her skin was burning up, and it ...