Two couldn't feel her body.

The sun was setting in the west, its last rays casting a shadow along the undersides of the clouds. Thick layers of snow surrounded Two, and the cold numbed her hands. As she lifted herself onto her haunches, her arms trembled, her muscles jellyfish, and metal clacked. The chains securing her wrists were too frozen to budge. As she looked at the charred rope stretched in the snow behind her, vague flashes of Darius and Meskit and a fire flitted through her head, but none of them connected into a coherent whole.

"Shit," she whispered as she tried to curl her blue fists in vain. Even her pain was dulled to nothing but a distant buzz. Taking a step forward, she stepped on the rope tied to her chains and landed face-first into the snow, swallowing a chunk of ice while she was at it. Again, she rose to her feet, spat out the ice that burned her tongue raw, and picked up the rope that laid heavy in her palms.

A bird screeched in the forest that stretched for what seemed like infinity to her right. It was a pretty thing, brown and gray, plump from its thick feathers and downy, but the second it opened its mouth and chirped, it sounded like a man dying of starvation.

Two thought of using her lightning element to heat the air, but the chains increased the risk of getting shocked. So, she looked at the paved snow path to her front and back and traveled towards the camp—or what she assumed was its direction. As the meager warmth from the sun disappeared with its light, the bird continued to mock Two as she plowed through the snow.

The darkness between the trees thickened, and her weary mind imagined white eyes watching her from the deepest glooms, waiting for her to fall. Each step was enervating, and the farther she traveled, the stronger her body urged her to stop, sleep, never wake up and accept whatever fate held for her. She ignored the impulses, but the decision grew harder every time her drooping eyes made her stumble.

That wretched bird still screeched and grated her ears as it flapped its stubby wings that were definitely too small for it. It followed her, annoying her the entire way, and at one point, she even risked throwing a pathetic bolt of lightning that simmered out of existence before it could end the poor creature's life. And as if it understood what had happened, the bird's screeches became louder, more frequent. She would have covered her ears to save them from torture if her hands were not chained.

"For the love of Caeluros, shut your tiny beak, you fiend of a bird!" Two screamed, but her words were terribly slurred. The bird's screech returned with a vengeance, echoing through the night like a wolf howling at the moon. "Leave me alone! Find someone else to pester!"

A quiet moment passed before the bird screeched and left, bobbing up and down like a boat at sea as it faded from sight. Two didn't know if she was relieved the bird was gone or afraid of its abrupt fleeing. But once she looked at the red snow around her, she understood.

Blood was congealed in the snow, dark like crimson, almost ebony under the incoming moonlight. The red trail followed the snow path and swerved right into the forest. Stamped in the snow were paw marks the size of Two's fist.

Gray wolves.

Despite being the face of Umbra's sigil, they were not friendly creatures, and since winter was here, it was best if Two didn't have the misfortune of meeting one. Or worse, a pack. She gulped. Breathing in the crisp, open air one last time, she made her way towards the trees.

The darkness was suffocating, a dense weight draping over her shoulders. She was exposed to the forest's rhythm, a suspect to the animals that glared from their hideaways. The cold seeped into her brain like a disease, clouding her eyes with illusions and her ears with garbled whispers. Every crunch of leaves was a warning, every whir of the insects a threat, every howl of a wolf a death sentence. Even though she was numbed from sensation, chills ran down her spine at every hint of movement.

On the forest floor, the heads of mushrooms and other fungi popping out of the snow glowed various shades of blue and yellow as Two passed, hollering to any predator that she was alive and fresh and ready to be eaten. Vines hanging from the canopy looked like green strands of thick hair swaying in the dusk, and the occasional rustle of the underbrush sent jolts of fear to her heart. She hoped it was a rabbit or a squirrel. Her instincts told her that it was anything but.

It felt like hours had passed when a slight crackle made her pause. Slowly, Two searched the forest, fogging the air with her rapid yet quiet breaths. A wolf howled, and it was not far. Paws crunched in ice and snow as the breath of foul beasts encircled her. Vague growls thrummed in her ears, and diamond ruby pairs sparkled between the trees, evoking the thrill of the hunt, of finding prey.

Two inched away, hoping she would become invisible, but a wolf her size pounced and sank its fangs into her vambrace. Cursing, she wrestled and kicked it away. Before its friends could join in on the fun, she darted into the trees.

Low-hanging branches scraped her face and arms, and her plant element wasn't helping with the surprisingly sharp pain that sliced through her numbness. She stumbled over curling roots and boulders as the wolves chased her, barking a mad chant through their bloodied jaws. In the dark, she tripped and landed on her back with a hard thump. The impact sent blood spilling from her mouth, and while she busied herself with her coughs and gasps, the wolves encompassed her.

The one that bit her vambrace was the first to charge, and without thinking, Two drew a circle of lightning to ward it off. Immediately, lightning shocked her nerves from her wrists to her heart, and she squirmed as her limbs contorted and twisted through the electric current. When the lightning faded, whines and squeals deafened her. Breaking through the wolves, she sprinted into the unknown, her pants and heaves glossing over her ears.

She rammed into tree trunks and stubbed her toes on multiple rocks until she halted at a riverbank. Ice chunks floated downstream, and the sheer coolness of the water was almost enough to make her balk when the ferocious howls of wolves reminded her of her options. After all that she had encountered, she was not about to meet her demise in a pack of wolves, so with renewed vigor, she jumped into the river and waded to the other side.

The water reached her torso and challenged her balance with its rushing current. Despite the thick ice punching her gut and the water making her barely feel her legs, Two pushed onward until she stood at the other end of the river, gritting her teeth at the frost claws piercing her skin from the inside out. Across the bank, the wolves glared at her, pacing and growling before collecting themselves and leaving the way they had come.

When Two was finally alone, she assessed the damage. A bruise colored her stomach, blood poured from the holes in her vambrace, and she was thoroughly exhausted. Moving felt like lifting a mountain, and breathing was beginning to match being continuously pounded in the gut. But she had to find the camp. She refused to die in the middle of Umbra on a mission she didn't want to be a part of.

"Damn it all," she whispered as she lifted one foot and another. One foot and another. It hurt like hell. Rather than fire, ice was boiling her blood. No more wolves paid her another visit, but distant howls echoed through the night and swayed through the trees like a foreboding tune, a promise.

Two scoured the area for the camp, growing desperate as time passed. If not by a pack of wolves, her fate would be met by the unforgiving cold. And that alone pissed her off even more. As she maneuvered around tree trunks and stepped over ginormous roots, she stopped at the sight of a dead horse bleeding out in the snow. Kicking a path to the horse, she touched it, and her hand came back coated in red, colder than it already was. The horse was disemboweled, and before Two looked too long at its intestines, she wheeled around, clenching her trembling hands.

If the horses died, then what was the point of returning to the camp? Then, a worse thought clouded her mind, filled what remained of her senses to the brim. What if Jungkook died? What if he was dying? Was the blood contract killing her, too?

Shaking her head, Two rushed through the endless forest. More horses came across her path—all dead, frozen, and eviscerated. At the sixth horse, she flinched away from the frozen hooves sticking out of the packed snow. At the seventh horse, she almost retched because she was unfortunately graced with the sight of a headless mare. And at the eighth horse, she arrived at an abrupt standstill. The animal was lying on its side atop tufts of grass sullied with scarlet as it breathed—faintly.

The forest hummed, bearing the Gods' judgment and weighing down on Two's subconsciousness. In a flash, every person she had killed blinked in her mind, and cursing, she braced her hands on the tree. She didn't know what to do. Without weapons, killing the horse out of mercy wasn't an option. And merely sitting beside it as it took its last breath or outright leaving felt cruel.

Staring at its equine eyes, she couldn't put her finger on whose horse it was. Perhaps Jungkook's or Jimin's or even hers. It didn't matter. Just like all her other victims—Two's neck twitched—it was dying, and ironically, she didn't know what to do. No, she did know what to do. She just didn't want to do it.

Using her thumbs to rub some sense into her eyes, she laughed like she had lost her mind. She was supposed to be killing people, enemies, nobles with cruel smirks and dulled gazes, not animals that begged even in their final moments. Not for life or sympathy. But for pity.

Letting her hands fall to her front, Two searched the area for a large stone or pointed branch. When she found a fallen branch thick enough to use, she lifted it up and stepped on its center to break it in half. Then, she shuffled back to the horse, tracing a thin line through the grass in her wake. Raising the branch, she pointed the splintered wood at the horse, inhaled a deep breath, and held it.

The horse was begging her to put it out of its misery. She was sure of it; the plead was written in those innocent eyes. They always were.

As the branch impaled the horse's neck, Two huffed through the razor-sharp pain lancing from her limbs to, oddly, her heart. Again, she repeated the motion, ignoring the horse's shrieking, until she was sweating despite the weather, and finally, finally, the horse drew its last breath.

Pulling away, Two felt stickiness all over her from both her and the horse's blood. Her ears rang, but she disregarded it, shaking it off with a slight wince. Once a suitable distance from the dead horse, she collapsed next to a sturdy trunk and couldn't bite down on her chuckles that soon became sobs. Billowing wisps of smoke did not tail her cries as she screamed into the darkness, not caring that every predator could hear her. She, along with all those idiot princes, was dead, anyway. There was no hope, no point. But eventually, she wiped her tears, steeled herself, and lurched to her feet before lumbering onward like a drunkard.

The forest mocked Two at every opportunity, coaxing her to close her eyes and just sleep. Every step was a battle, every breath a war. Since she couldn't feel her breath, she had to constantly remind herself to inhale, breathe, survive.

I can't die, she repeated. I can't die. I won't die. Not here. Never here. She would pass under the beautiful rays of the northern sun, not amid winter's clutches.

Before she knew it, she saw the final carcass of her journey: a bandit. There was a gaping hole in his chest, but that was all Two could see. The rest of his body was covered in snow and ice. Presuming it was Jimin and Taehyung's work, she moved on, not only desensitized to sensation but to emotion, as well.

Thick clouds of fog muddled her scattered brain, and black blotches dotted her vision, blending into the darkness that seemed to swallow her. Her ears felt like they were not even attached to her head, and if there was noise, she could not hear it.

When the first of her memories started calling her, that was when she was sure she was dying. A little girl appeared beside Two, matching her pace. Two didn't know when she had arrived, but she was there. So Two let her be.

"Lucius put you through worse," the little girl said, skipping and prancing, her round face lighting up with a smile.

Two would have smacked the girl if she wasn't at death's door. "You're not real," Two mumbled, her voice hoarse, throaty.

"Yes, I am!" the little girl replied, stamping her feet and leveling Two with a glare.

"Go away."

"You're mean."

"If I was mean, I wouldn't even acknowledge you."

The girl paused at that and crossed her arms. The wind blew, but she was unaffected by it as if she was walking in another realm, another world. When Two glanced at her again, she was gone, replaced by an older boy. Lexitem was calling her, but she couldn't fully grasp that thought as all her victims took turns materializing before her and saying, "Lucius put you through worse."

By the tenth time Two had heard that statement, she found it was inaccurate. Lucius didn't put her through worse; he put her through hell, and the dead shared her sentiments.

"Lucius put you through hell," an old lady donning the garbs of a Luxian noble said before dematerializing like smoke. Quickly, that phrase morphed into another—one that cut deeper: "You put us through hell."

There was no denying the truth, so Two let the illusions do whatever they wanted until a hand tugged at her, bringing her to a halt. Sighing, she turned and said, "You're not—"

Violet irises and brown hair. Doe eyes and the grace of innocence. The girl, Two's failure, grabbed Two's torn tunic, her eyes glimmering with fresh tears. Her small face was red with blood, and her hands were marred with scratches. A tear in her shirt exposed her stomach, and unlike the other illusions, the girl's silk robe swelled in the breeze.

"Why did you kill my parents?" she asked, tears falling from her eyes. "Why did you let that man take me?"

Slapping her hand away, Two retreated with wide eyes, raising her hands to defend herself. The girl followed her, sobbing, her body melting into crimson water—blood.

"Why did you kill my parents?" she said. It sounded like she was gargling with water. "Why did that man take me away?"

No words came to her tongue. All Two could manage was a weak noise resembling the whine of a dying animal. Suddenly, a loud ring pierced her ears and forced her eyes shut. This time, she could not shrug it off with a wince.

"Why did you kill my parents?" The voice was no longer the girl's. It was layered, distorted, shouted by the grieving damned. Two dared not to look at her sins, but she still felt them behind her, heard them demand, "Why did you kill us?"

Clutching her head, she ignored the voices and limped, ran—faster and faster and faster until she built the equivalent of a turtle's pace. The gloomy forest shifted into a hallway lit with the dying torchlight of sconces. Towards the end, there was a ball of light. As Two sprinted towards that light and wondered why she thought she would be safe once she reached it, the voices of her victims came closer, louder.

"Why did you kill us?" They howled, inhuman. "Why did you kill us?"

Her tunic was stretched back as they pulled on her, clawing at her skin, but she continued to run. Despite the ache locking her legs, the cold stabbing her heart, the past suffocating her, she reached for the light and tumbled into it. When she landed on her side, she scrambled to her feet and prepared to flee—

"Two!?"

Startled, Two searched for the voice and saw a familiar face marked with worry.

"You're alive!" Jungkook exclaimed, struggling in his earth confines. His voice cracked. "I thought the bandits had killed you."

Finally, Two calmed down and took in her surroundings. She was at the camp. The sun was rising, casting bars of light that breached the canopy and illuminated the ashes covering the area. The princes were detained in earth and metal, and Jimin and Taehyung, who were breaking the rocks coating Hoseok's limbs, paused. Everyone was staring at her, at her clothes stained with liquid death.

"How did you escape?" Jimin asked. Or was it Taehyung? "Did you kill the bandits?"

Kill Meskit and Darius? Two scoffed, stumbling, overwhelmed with vertigo. "You don't want to know," she said when the world suddenly tilted and—

* * *

The boar skidded to a rolling stop against the ground with a loud squeal. Faelaux smiled back at Snow as he pulled his horse around, but she wasn't amused.

They had been hunting for the better part of an hour. Snow had been watching from afar, riding close to Erinhaw, who looked too unbothered to even be here. He had been unenthusiastically following Faelaux around the woods on his white stallion, conversing more with his men than anyone else. Meanwhile, Faelaux, almost like a youthful boy, had been chasing his prey down with a fierce intensity and concentration that scared Snow.

And now, as he cheered on his mare and called his men to carry his mark with them, Snow thought he looked too much like an innocent child. Then, she remembered his calculating demeanor and playful yet dangerous words, and the thought disappeared as fast as it came.

She knew what he was, but she could not help but imagine when he was acting, for lack of a better word, odd.

This event that was supposed to help Snow understand Faelaux only made her more bewildered. Before, she learned about him through Elias and the whispers of the guards as she walked the halls. Always indirectly. But now that she was seeing him for herself with her two bare eyes and a conscious mind, she understood why he was well-known among the ranks.

He was kind to his men and charming all around, and even Snow, who was experienced in court affairs, both Umbran and Luxian, could not discern a hint of deception from the creases of his gentle smiles or the tone of his soft voice. His men loved him, even laughed with him, although they all seemed to find the hunting a bore altogether.

Snow only began to despise him more.

Nickelyn was walking a small distance behind, her expression the blankest Snow had ever witnessed. If Snow hadn't met her beforehand, asking to borrow her hunting garb, she would have been worried. Erinhaw was nearby, watching Faelaux with a disapproving frown. His quiver, like Snow's, was untouched, and his bow was resting on his back.

Pulling on the reins of her horse, she maneuvered the mare towards Erinhaw and let a light grin form on her lips. "Are you enjoying the hunt, General?"

Her question seemed to startle Erinhaw. He flinched and jumped a little on his horse, but other than that, he showed no indication of his inner thoughts. The leaves in the trees rustled as the wind brushed by, lifting the ones that had accepted their fate from the dew-coated forest floor. They soared towards the sky like birds for a fleeting second before joining their earth-bound brethren once more. In the background, Faelaux and his men were tying ropes around the boar to make it easier to drag with them.

Erinhaw chuckled sheepishly, his blue eyes glinting brilliantly as his irises caught the sunlight seeping between the breaches of the gray clouds. "Were my thoughts that obvious, Lady Snowalaine?"

Snow shook her head. "I was just being observant." The entourage of guards slowly backed away a respectable distance to give them a semblance of privacy. In the corner of her eye, she noticed Nickelyn staring at her. "At least General Faelaux seems to be enjoying himself."

"He finds pleasure in the simplest of activities," Erinhaw said, sighing, looking at Faelaux with a paternal gaze. "When he was younger, a wee boy about as tall as my waist, I took him hunting with Lord Aegus. Back then, I thought he was a hopeless lad. I know what an incorrigible aim looks like—my son had and still has it—and I had seen the same in Tiberius. But just when I thought I was going to be proven right, the boy did it. He shot an arrow, landed a mark, and celebrated as if he had won a war. He continued smiling for days."

Erinhaw had an air of fondness about him. Snow could only gape in response. It made her wonder if he knew what Faelaux was, if he saw the feral tiger stalking his prey, if he was one too. Snapping herself out of her daze, she ventured to ask, "If I may, what was occupying your mind before?" Then, after a deliberate pause, she added, "The prince and the council?"

Erinhaw blinked at her as if confused before averting his gaze and clearing his throat, a slight blush coloring the skin beneath his stubble. "You are as perceptive as the rumors claim you to be, Lady Snowalaine. Yes, the councils and Prince Jungkook are concerning topics, but I wasn't brooding over them. I was thinking about my wife." If Snow wasn't mistaken, she heard his voice crack. "You see, while I attend to my duties, she cares for the family. I would return every night, hoping for a little break after hours of verbal bouts with Abel, only to be stopped in my tracks by a flying cleaver that races by my head and lodges into the wall behind. She would always berate me, screaming, 'Hyden, how dare you show your face after leaving me with your uncontrollable children? Do you know how much I suffer?' And I would tell her not to worry and that she could rest, and she would begrudgingly leave it with that. It worked in the beginning, but then, when I returned with the news that I would go hunting in the eastern woods with Tiberius on the day of the council's first hiatus, she chased me out of the home, waving her favorite cleaver I gifted her all those years ago." Erinhaw sniffed, dabbing at his eyes. "I fear she will murder me the moment I return."

Biting the insides of her cheeks, Snow let out a quiet, "I see."

This was quite. . . unexpected. Legends said that Hyden Erinhaw was a fearsome general who had never lost a single battle under King Titus during the Great Southern Wars. During his prime, he was heralded as Lux's most vicious warrior. He had slaughtered his enemies with no remorse and was the mastermind behind a few of Lux's finest attacks against Umbra. The beast that charged into burning villages without a second thought, captured town after town under the name of his tyrant, massacred tens and hundreds of her kin, and showed no sympathy as the Crimson Death took her kingdom. . . His greatest weakness was his wife.

Since she was an infant, Snow had heard many tales about him, but she would have never guessed that the same person was a family man. From the conniving tiger to the aged war beast, the more she interacted with the generals, the more she realized she was out of her depth.

As she mentally waded back to the present, she noticed the same disapproving frown had resurfaced on Erinhaw's face. Curious, she directed her gaze towards Faelaux to find what made Erinhaw like that, but all she saw was Faelaux chatting with his men, wearing that agreeable mask that fooled everyone he met. Nothing out of the ordinary if you asked her, but Erinhaw's countenance was unchanged, a stern and unyielding visage.

Does Erinhaw know? Snow thought. Taking her chances, she asked, "Is there something about General Faelaux that concerns you?"

Erinhaw did not startle this time. He only hummed. "Seeing Tiberius, I can't help but be reminded of my son—so young and inexperienced. They wouldn't last in a war, a true war. As you grow older, it hurts to see times change and become complacent with the honey-sweetness of peace. I know that such things do not last, but often, I wonder if they comprehend it."

Snow tapped a steady beat against her fingers, considering her words, trying to choose the ones that would glean more information. "I have a younger brother. I understand how you must feel."

Clicking his tongue, Erinhaw straightened as Faelaux made his way towards them, leading his horse by the reins. "He may not be as wild as my son," he said, "but I presume he is a handful, just like the young prince, eh?" Snow went rigid, and Erinhaw laughed, not unkindly. "I knew you were protective of him long before Faelaux told me about his visit to your chambers. Please do not take offense. It is good to hear that the prince has people he can trust and people willing to help. These days, something in the air tells me he will need it. Do look after him, Lady Snowalaine. Prince Jungkook has experienced so much tragedy for a boy so young. It saddens me to see him like this—locked in his tower. When you need help or guidance, do not hesitate to ask. I will gladly oblige."

Erinhaw stared at her thoughtfully, not an ounce of deceit in his eyes. Snow warily nodded, unsure if she could trust him, until Faelaux arrived with a lively energy that blew the awkward atmosphere away.

Combing his sweat-slick hair back with a hand, he beamed with pride. "I am finally beating you after all these years, Hyden. One to zero. I told you I am far from that little boy clinging to loose arrows."

Again, something about him—the excitement in his eyes, the exhilaration written all over his face, the bounce in his step—evoked a child-like image. After the conversation with Erinhaw and the sour knowledge that her connection to Jungkook was known, she began to question exactly why she saw Faelaux in such a light. Unfortunately, she did not know why. The only reason that came to mind was that he was better at playing his part than he let on. And that did more to worry her than assuage her apprehension.

"It seems that hunting boars has become a young man's game," Erinhaw replied. He nudged his chin at Snow. "Why don't you help Lady Snowalaine score a mark. I am sure she would enjoy this outing much more if you did."

Snow clenched her jaw. "You misunderstand, General Erinhaw. I am enjoying—"

"Nonsense," Erinhaw cut in, sending her a knowing look. "I know Tiberius has promised you something more than a good hunt but went off like an excited puppy before following through. I have no need to speak to him about policy. I see him daily at the councils, after all. This may be your only opportunity to speak freely. Take it while you can."

Snow and Faelaux locked eyes. He was inscrutable, and Snow hoped she was, as well. "General Faelaux, do you prefer horseback or foot?"

For the first time that day, Faelaux did not smile. "Foot. It will help with your aim."

He offered Snow a hand, but ignoring it, she unmounted her mare herself. Faelaux awkwardly retracted his hand with an audible exhale while Erinhaw chuckled. She passed her horse to Nickelyn, shared a glance, and turned away before walking side by side with Faelaux towards a deeper part of the woods.

"Search for a boar," Erinhaw commanded, turning to his men as he dug his heels into his stallion. "Let's give our guest a memorable experience." Then, he rode off into the woods, leaving them alone. Even so, Faelaux did not speak, but that was fine.

He had been hunting for the better part of an hour, but Snow's hunt had just begun.

* * *

They were isolated from the others very quickly. At first, Snow could hear their steps crunching through the piles upon piles of sodden leaves around them, squishing them into the muddy earth with no remorse. Then, the distant murmurs and hollered commands to search here and there for a boar, the galloping of a horse not far behind. But now, all she heard were Faelaux's light inhales as he guided himself deeper into the woods, where the leaves still hung from the branches, blocking more and more sunlight.

It was dark in these parts, darker than where they were hunting before, but Faelaux seemed unfazed as he continued walking like a mindless puppet ordered to just move forward. It was unnerving to see him like that after watching him appease everyone around him with his charm just mere minutes ago, but knowing Faelaux, Snow did not put more thought into his behavior. He was probably wondering what he could say to catch her off guard and gain the upper hand. As if she would let him win that easily.

Her quiver bounced against her back and beat a rhythm that sang through her bones as she stepped over thick, twisted roots, avoided the towering mounds of anthills, and ducked under what she thought were abandoned spider webs. That was until an enormous spider from the canopy abseiled to its home. Observing the spider as it wrapped its prey in silk, Snow shuddered.

They weren't supposed to be here, and she had told Faelaux as much, but he had ignored her. She didn't know what he was planning. Boars did not roam in this area. They were further up north, and Faelaux must know she knew that. The knowledge only increased the pit of flames rising within her, screaming at her with a tidal wave of adrenaline to run, run, run, run, run—

But she stood still because this was not Faelaux's hunt. It was hers and hers only.

When they finally stopped, well away from the rest of the company, Snow maintained a healthy distance between her and Faelaux, who stood fifteen paces away. Glancing back over his shoulders at her, he flicked his eyes from her to the excessive space between them and said, "Why are you so far away, Lady Snowalaine?"

"It is funny that you ask that," Snow replied.

"How so?" There was the tail end of laughter threatening to break through his voice. "I only asked a reasonable question." He stepped forward, amusement—or, perhaps, pure joy—sparkling in his eyes. Snow retreated a step. When he came closer, she drew her bow, and he halted. She did not yet dare to nock an arrow. Faelaux's jaw clenched. "I thought you were here to hunt boar. Not me." A lightness was attached to his tone, but his hand resting on a tree clawed the bark off as he curled his fists.

Snow remembered what he had said in her chambers—that there was a great ecstasy in a good hunt. As Faelaux's narrowed eyes studied her with suspicion and his legs twitched as if they wanted to sprint away, she began to understand what he meant. Slowly, she pulled an arrow out of her quiver and nocked it. "We lost the company a while ago. I was wondering if you noticed."

Faelaux's eyes widened. He inched closer to the tree, hiding half of his body behind it. A careful smile spread on his lips. "You wouldn't dare."

"Hunting accidents happen."

"I do not believe your aim is good enough."

Tilting her head to the side, Snow grinned. "Contrary to what you may believe, my aim is excellent."

In a split second, she pulled the bowstring back and let the arrow fly, not giving Faelaux the time of day to react. The arrow hit the tree, right beside Faelaux's head. On his temple, the barest drop of blood gathered. Before it fell, he lowered his chin and turned away from Snow, yanking a handkerchief from within his vest and covering his wound.

"That was for intruding into my chambers and intimidating me," Snow said, letting her arms rest at her sides.

Faelaux dabbed at his wound, checking his hands for blood before stuffing the now-dirty handkerchief back into his vest. "Do not dare do that again," he whispered.

Snow couldn't see his eyes. They were shrouded in the gloom.

"Do you understand, Lady Snowalaine?" he asked.

Snow could not speak. Something about him had changed. Nothing of that playful attitude remained, and the sudden shift daunted her.

"Do you understand, Lady Snowalaine!?" he yelled, moving his head so that Snow could catch a glimpse of his amber eyes, red instead of white. His hands were balled into fists, and his entire body trembled. "Do not ever, ever do that again."

Before Snow could respond, halfheartedly apologize even, the sound of a horn resonated through the forest, scaring the birds in the trees away. As they took to the skies, more sunlight flitted between the gaps of the trees, illuminating the area. The unfallen leaves were shaken from their branches and began to descend like colorful snowfall. Once the last echoes of the horn faded far and wide, another was blown.

Snow and Faelaux glanced at each other, a silent pact forming between them. Snow hung her bow on her back and waited for Faelaux to close the distance between them so they could return to the hunting company.

It was much easier to find them than Snow had thought. Erinhaw was cursing loudly, complaining how he had told Abel that the council was not to convene today. When he saw Snow and Faelaux walking towards him, he led his horse over and frowned apologetically at Snow.

"I fear General Alean Abel has called the council. She must not have understood what I meant by a hiatus," Erinhaw explained before going silent, eyeing the glum looks on their faces. Reading the unspoken tension, he bit his bottom lip. "No luck catching a boar?"

Wordlessly, Faelaux retrieved his horse from his men and mounted it. Everyone was uneasy, noticing the complete flip in his character. Snow overlooked the few questioning stares her way, the ones from Nickelyn most of all.

"Let's leave, Hyden," Faelaux said, his expression blank as he tugged on the reins to turn his horse. "Abel will be irritated if we are late, and we both know how much more talkative she gets when she is."

As Faelaux began trotting away, Erinhaw turned to Snow and inclined his head before following. "Return to the castle," he yelled as his stallion sped up. Soon, they were riding into the woods, growing smaller and smaller, until they vanished from sight.