Chapter Six

Stranger in the Snow

Her name was Julia, and he regretted the day he’d met her.

The sound of heavy banging on wood reached into the depths of Lance’s unconsciousness, dragging him out of his sleep. His eyes fluttered open. He lay in his bed, staring up at the dark, wooden ceiling. From the living room, he could hear the steady crackle of a fire and, beyond that, the howling of the wind. The smell of fish wafted into his nostrils.

The windows were shut, and the only source of light in his bedroom was a small lantern in the corner. Was it already daytime? Between the darkness and the fact that the blizzard outside had been going nonstop, it was hard to tell, but something had certainly woken him from his sleep.

He listened. There it was again, that banging. Lance’s first thought was that it was the wind causing one of the shutters on the cabin to bang shut, but something about the sound carried a note of urgency, even desperation.

He eased himself out of bed, naked from the waist up, and padded through the house into the living room as the banging continued. It wasn’t coming from the windows. Someone was at the door.

“Oh, hell,” Lance muttered.

Who could it be? He rarely spoke to anyone. This cabin was well-hidden in the woods, even more so by the blizzard raging outside. Who could be at the door?

The banging came again. His curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled the door open.

“Oh, hell.”

The first thing he registered was the blanket of white that spread across the landscape in front of him. The snow was coming down pretty fiercely, so much so that it was hard to make out much else. But Lance saw the figure in his doorway with no difficulty.

“What the…?”

It was a woman, he realized. She stood nearly a foot shorter than him, her blonde hair almost completely white from the snow. Her eyes were wide, whether out of fear or desperation, and her lips were cracked. Lance let his gaze drop. A pair of gossamer wings were wrapped around the woman’s torso as if shielding her from the cold.

The woman’s lips parted. When she spoke, Lance couldn’t hear her voice over the wind, but he read the words from her lips.

“Help me.”

***

“Help me,” Mallory said, snapping him out of his reverie.

Lance blinked at her. She was struggling to climb the ledge he’d just cleared easily.

Days had gone by. Lance almost couldn’t believe it. By now, he should be sitting at home, enjoying his fish, prepared to remain holed up until after Christmas, but here he was, still trudging through the snow and with a fae woman no less.

They were still moving through the woods, which seemed to provide some cover. Over the past couple of days, he’d managed to gather some food, and Mallory’s condition was improving. But Lance thought they were moving too slowly. It was a wonder Boris hadn’t caught up to them.

“Help me,” Mallory said again with a grunt. “Please.”

Lance stared down at her. Her eyes were wide, her hair covered with some snow from the trees. For a very brief moment, he thought he saw someone else in those eyes.

She’s not Julia, he reminded himself. Don’t be ridiculous. That’s all in the past.

He stuck out a hand. She grabbed it, and he marveled at how delicate hers felt as he pulled her up onto the ledge. She lay in the snow for a moment, panting. Lance glanced around. The snow stretched as far as he could see. Beyond his line of sight, he suspected the mountain continued upward. For now, at least, they wouldn’t be doing any climbing.

“Let’s get going,” he said to Mallory.

But she simply sat up and leaned against the nearest tree. Her dark eyes roamed over him, settling for a fleeting second on his bare torso. “We’ve been walking all day. I’m exhausted. Can we stop for a bit?”

Boris isn’t stopping, he almost told her.

“Okay, but just for a few minutes. It’s almost evening. We need to cover more distance and find shelter before it gets dark.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” She gave a mock salute and grinned. Lance didn’t grasp the meaning of her words, but he found himself smiling, too.

“We should eat now,” he told her, and he set down the bag he’d made out of his shirt, unraveling it to reveal the food he’d gathered. Between some nuts and meat, they had enough food to last them at least a couple of days.

They ate in silence, leaning against opposite trees so they could watch each other’s backs. Lance found himself staring at Mallory. She still hadn’t gotten used to this place, he realized as he watched her eat. Whatever her world was like, it was clearly a lot different from what Frost Mountain offered. It would take some time before she got more comfortable with this place.

Time .

Time was a resource they had in abundance. The way Lance saw it, they had all the time they wanted to keep running, keep hiding from Boris. All the time they needed to get to know each other. All the time to do whatever they wanted. The problem was, so did Boris. And he was certainly taking his time with them. Why hadn’t they come across him yet? Something didn’t feel quite right.

The more he thought about it, the more the discomfort inside him grew. Lance pushed the thought aside. It took him a moment to realize Mallory was staring back at him; her eyebrows raised either in confusion or in question.

His gut clenched, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of this woman’s beauty or the gravity of their situation. He decided it was the latter. He had a duty to help this woman, to protect her from Boris. She was alive because of him. Boris would have finished her off that very day if not for the avalanche.

Even as the thought took root in his mind, Lance scoffed. A duty? He didn’t have to do anything. Helping this woman had been a choice, nothing more. He’d always had a choice, hadn’t he? And the last time his options had been presented to him, two years ago, he’d chosen wrong.

***

“Thank you for letting me in,” the fae woman said, rubbing her arms. Despite being seated by the fireplace, she shivered slightly. “It’s been a cold morning.”

Lance nodded, handing her some warm water to drink. In the firelight, he could see her more clearly. She had a round, pretty face, with blue eyes that glistened as she blinked at him.

“It’s okay,” he told her, unsure what to make of her presence here. He didn’t get many visitors, especially not women like this. “I’m Lance.”

“Julia.”

Julia. “Did you get lost?”

“Something like that.” She took a sip of water, then lowered the cup onto her lap. “I was being pursued, and I got away, but then I realized I was lost, and this blizzard—”

“Pursued?” Lance frowned. “By whom?”

“My father, Henri.” Julia’s expression darkened at the mention of the name. “He wanted to force me into a marriage to a man I did not love. I refused and ran off in the middle of the night, but he sent his men after me. I almost didn’t escape them.”

Two thoughts crossed Lance’s mind then. One, this woman’s father sounded like a very powerful, dangerous man, and he was probably crossing a line by harboring her. Two, this woman looked like she’d been traveling for days with little rest.

“That’s terrible,” he managed. “Do you have anyone else to go to?”

She blinked at him, and it took him another second to realize he’d probably said the wrong thing.

“Sorry,” he told her. “I meant to say—”

“I was hoping you could help me.”

Lance felt his gut tighten. “Help…you?”

She nodded. “Could I take shelter here for a little while, at least until this blizzard subsides? Or until my father gives up and leaves me alone.”

He said nothing but simply stared back at her.

“Please.” This time, she took his hand. Those blue eyes had never gleamed so bright. “You’re my only hope.”

Her hand snaked up his arm, and a shiver coursed through Lance’s body.

A defeated sigh parted his lips. He withdrew his arm, though with some hesitation. “Okay. You can stay here until the blizzard ends.”

***

The way Lance saw it, there were three problems with helping other people sort out their personal issues. One, it usually meant abandoning your concerns to focus on that. Two, it took a lot of time and effort. Three, it often landed you in trouble.

With Julia, all that had happened. If only he’d remained in bed and ignored her, the problems that had followed might have simply brushed past him like a cold wind. But how could he have known she was trouble when he let her into his home? Not to mention, he couldn’t have ignored the persistent banging on his door. That was the thing with people in need: Somehow, they seemed to drop right into your lap and give you little choice but to give them your undivided attention.

It had been five nights and four days since he’d stumbled on Mallory, and her safety remained at the forefront of his mind before even his concerns about the situation. It was dangerous and might get him killed, but he was going to take her to his cabin, away from Boris. It was an impossible feat—no one had ever outrun Boris—but he would try.

It occurred to him as he and the fae woman resumed their journey across the flatbed of snow that perhaps he simply had a penchant for danger. Here he was, doing the very thing he had vowed never to do again, knowing the dangers associated with it and doing it anyway. A tiny voice prodded the back of his mind: Do you not care about yourself?

Maybe I’m just charmed by her beauty.

The thought filled his chest with a sudden warmth, and he cut a sideways glance at her. He had to admit, he’d been enamored by Julia as well, and he’d let his guard down. A big mistake. Was that how it was with fae? Or was he simply looking for reasons to justify his terrible choices?

His gaze drifted to the scar on his arm. Two years ago, he’d bled into the snow. All that was left of the injury Henri had inflicted on him was this jagged mark. That, and the memories that had come with the man’s daughter. Lance wondered where they were now. Were they still alive? Or—the thought made his insides clench—had they somehow fallen prey to Boris the Fae Hunter?

“I’m still hungry,” Mallory grumbled next to him.

Lance chuckled, grateful for the distraction from his thoughts. “We just ate.”

She gave a half-shrug, her beautiful eyes flicking to him and then to the path ahead of them. “I’m still hungry,” she repeated. “And I’m tired. I’ve been in a calorie deficit ever since I stepped foot on this mountain. Well, crashed is more like it.”

She stopped and leaned heavily against a tree, and Lance reluctantly did the same, shaking his head. “You complain a lot.”

“It’s kind of therapeutic, you know,” she panted. “People do it a lot. You should give it a try sometime.”

“When you’ve lived your whole life on Frost Mountain, you learn to survive.” He smirked. “And you cannot survive by complaining.”

“You’re telling me about survival.” She gave a scoff. “In my world, I’ve had to hide my wings all my life so I wouldn’t get pulled apart and examined in some creepy lab. Or, worse, end up trending on TikTok as some freak of nature.”

Sadness flickered in her eyes. Lance stared at her but said nothing, feeling as though any word he uttered might be the wrong one.

“You say this place—Frost Mountain—is a trap, a prison. But you get to be yourself. I bet you could shift into a polar bear now, and no one would give a rat’s rear end. But in my world, living around humans, supernaturals don’t have that privilege. It’s not that easy. Especially for fae. I can’t spread my wings back home or even on this mountain because the second I do, there’s some maniac trying to put my head on his trophy wall.”

They stood in silence for the next few seconds. Then, before Lance could come up with anything to say, she spoke again.

“Look,” she said, “I’m grateful for your help. Really. Especially since you don’t even like me. I couldn’t have made it this far without you. I’m sorry I snapped. I guess I just haven’t really had time to calm down. Everything’s happening so suddenly.”

“It’s okay,” he told her. Then: “You can have some more food. But you’ll need to be quick. It won’t be long before night falls. We need to find some shelter so that—”

His next few words never made it out of his mouth. A piercing whistle cut through the air. A second later, something whizzed past his ear, embedding itself into the tree behind him.

Lance cut his gaze to the blade that had missed his ear by a mere inch.

Then he stared past his wide-eyed fae companion to the man who had thrown it.

“He’s found us,” Mallory breathed.

Trouble had arrived.