Sleep refused me.

Every time my eyes slid shut, the frost-mark pulsed not like a heartbeat, but like something alive under my skin, sending cold tendrils through my thoughts. The whispers came with it, curling in the marrow of my bones. They didn’t sound like words. They felt like commands.

I rose without meaning to, bare feet padding over stone. The fur robe on my shoulders was too thin to fight the chill, but I didn’t turn back.

The guards before the Hollow Cells stiffened at my ...