Chapter 2

Kit

"Geoffrey had two other packs with him by the time they found us," Darren explains as we forge our way down the mountain through the blizzard. "Their offer was simple. Pledge support to Geoffrey until the trial's end, or die."

"Why would anyone agree?" I ask. The cold bites my lips and tongue, making it hard to speak. I have to shout to be heard over the wind's howling. According to Hauck, the worsening weather would have forced us to decamp even without Sethis smashing our shelter into smithereens, but it's still a miserable trek. "No one entered the trials just to forfeit to Geoffrey. Don't they still want the elixir?"

Lee makes a whimpering sound as she trips and nearly falls into the snow.

"A great many things have changed since the trials started." Darren scoops her up into his arms. My friend makes a noise that's a mix of gratitude and protest, but buries herself into the dragon's chest. Worry rolls off her in waves I can now smell.

I follow her gaze to Sethis.

It had taken longer than anyone liked to convince the injured dragon to shift back into fae form. Rand carries him now, with Quinton bringing up the rear guard and Hauck leading the way through the forest. Each time a harsh gust of wind makes Rand shift his gate, Sethis grits his teeth.

"We can't go much farther," I say to Tavias. "Sethis?—"

"- Sethis needs safety in which to heal." His voice is hard, that of a general, his attention moving nonstop through our procession. "We stop when it's right and not before."

I nod bravely but it's all a pretense. Each step is a fight against the wind. Icy snow seeps into our boots and tiny bits of hail stings our faces like needles. Stings my scales. Stars! How do the males deal with the assault of sensation that comes from all sides?

Tavias uses his fire magic in judicious bursts to clear some of the snow, but the males' concern over setting off an avalanche keeps everyone's magic in check.

Needing something to take my mind off the misery, I pick my way to where Darren is carrying Lee. "I still don't understand why the other packs are joining with Geoffrey," I say through chattering teeth. "If they've shifted focus from securing the elixir to survival, why not just leave? The trial ground wards will allow it for the dragons."

The humans have no such option, but I don't think most of the packs care much about that.

Darren's jaw tightens and he exchanges a grim look with his brother, Broker.

"Geoffrey is promising them seats in the Massa'eve court," Cyril guesses grimly.

Darren nods, his reluctance evident despite his smooth movements. "Geoffrey is spreading word that Ettienne and his line—your line—are not long for the throne."

"That sounds like a solid offer," Quinton calls from the back, speaking for the first time in hours. He doesn't bother to even pretend friendliness. Unlike me, his breath escapes in controlled, measured puffs that blend seamlessly with the swirling white snow. "Why did you not take it?"

Darren snarls. "I'll rot in the blight before following that piece of flying swine."

"And?" Quinton says, nonplussed. He has his sword out despite the blizzard, and moves with a fluidity and grace that makes him seem like a part of the storm itself. Each step is calculated, deliberate, his footing never faltering on the slippery and treacherous descent. Hells, it's as if the hail and cold are bending to his will, acknowledging the predator in their midst.

Darren doesn't answer, but his hands tighten around Lee.

"Because Geoffrey would expect his followers to cull their humans," Cyril guesses. "Am I right?"

"Not cull outright, but…" Darren's jaw tightens again. "A dead human disqualifies a pack. Geoffrey wants the numbers. He is demanding his allies turn their humans over to him. During the trial. And afterwards."

I curse, then curse again as my foot slips on a rock I did not see beneath the snow.

Cyril scoops me into his arms. I open my mouth to demand he put me down but he shakes his head before I can utter a word. "Word of advice, Highness," he says, "don't give orders you know full well no one will listen to."

It's another two hours before we find a place Tavias deems acceptable for shelter—a deep semicircular gouge in the mountain's side that provides a natural barrier against the piercing winds. The stone overhang is large and sturdy, providing protection from both falling snow and prying eyes.

Putting Lee down, Darren and Broker go to work shaping the rocks further while Cyril and Hauck haul several snow-covered boulders to the cave entrance to create an added barrier of protection. I'm assigned to collecting fern branches to use for floor covering.

I'm trying to pull a particularly stubborn piece from under the snow, when I see Lee coming up to me. Her first direct acknowledgement of my existence since she learned of my true nature. Stepping up beside me, Lee grabs onto the fern.

It comes loose with a vengeance, sending us both tumbling into a snowbank, feet and hands in the air. Ice cold snow slithers inside my shirt.

Lee squeals. I do too. Loudly.

"Some dragon you are," she gasps, brushing a beard of snow off her face. With snow clumped to her hair she looks ridiculous.

I try to scramble up only to slip onto my backside again. It's more embarrassing than painful. My scales flare as if trying to help me keep my balance.

"And very queenly, too," Lee adds.

With a mature growl, I launch a snowball at her.

It misses, hitting Quinton on the back of the head instead.

The assassin spins around, his blade flashing before his gaze falls on me.

"In for a copper penny, in for a gold crown," I mutter and grab another fistfull of snow, throwing it at Quinton's chest. This time I hit my mark. A heartbeat later, a second snowball hits the male in the same place.

I look at Lee. She grins.

Quinton, looking equal parts confused and furious, bares his blades.

"What does he think he is going to do with swords against snow?" Lee asks me.

I look back at her and suddenly uncontrolled laughter spills from my chest. "Kill… The.. Ice?" I say between bouts of choking hilarity, that's now infecting Lee with equal vigor.

"Slice the ice," she croaks back, her face flushed with a mix of cold and mirth as she makes cutting gestures with her hand. "Swish. Swish?—"

"- Swish," I end for her, just before doubling over. I don't know why it's so funny exactly, but it is.

"Have they gone insane?" Quinton inquires. "Do females go insane in pairs?"

"Commonly, yes," says Hauck. "That's been my experience at least."

I throw a snow ball at his crotch.

"I'd be more mindful who you declare war against," Hauck says. Before I can react, a wall of snow rises into the air and smashes into Lee and me, a tidal wave of white powder being helped along with the dragons' magic. It knocks Lee and me on our backsides before burying us under a sea of white like scattered toys.

Above our new snowy blanket, Hauck laughs.

Tavias shouts to stop messing around.

Just as the chill begins to seep into my bones, strong hands pull me out of the heap. Hauck grins as he holds me up in the air. "Look, I've harvested myself a turnip."

I kick his shin, but my legs are too cold to gather much force behind it. "You know, Lee's pack calls me queen."

"That's because they haven't seen you ride a horse." Hauck brushes his thumb over my cheek and temple, clearing away the snow and—incidentally—caressing my scales. One, by one, by one.

Heat flashes between my thighs, my body going taught with sudden need. I suddenly don't care whether there is a storm or an audience or the end of the world that hovers over us. All I want is him. Now.

Hauck chuckles and steps back. The dark gleam in his eyes says none of that was an accident.

"You are an asshole." I wince, shifting from foot to foot, this time not from the cold.

"Oh, you have no idea," Hauck purrs.

"What's going on?" Lee asks.

Darren speaks quietly and quickly into her ear, gesturing to the scales. From the way Lee's face colors, her gaze darting between me and my mates, I have a pretty good idea of what he is filling her in on.

Hauck licks his lips and then catches a snowflake on the tip of his tongue.

Heat flashes through me. Asshole.

Before Hauck can reply though, the sound of a distant, eerie rumble pierces air. I don't know what it is, but there is a wrongness about it. The air seems to shift, the very mountain trembling. My scales flare. Mirth ends. The temperature drops.

"Avalanche!" Darren shouts, his hand still on the mountain rock.

"Everyone, inside now," Tavias orders.

Hauck herds Lee and me to the safety of the cavernous shelter, the ground already vibrating ominously beneath our feet. Just as we slip inside, the world outside becomes a maelstrom of white fury. Snow and ice pummel the overhang. The sound is deafening, like standing beneath a waterfall. Except this cacophony is that of crashing snow and ice. In moments, daylight dims. My ears pop from the change in pressure.

The cavernous shelter, with its jagged walls and uneven floor, is simultaneously claustrophobic and vast. Shadows dance across the rock, creating eerie shapes that seem to move of their own accord, dancing to the booming beat of falling snow. There is so much of it, that even the stone groans beneath the weight.

I brace for our haven to collapse. Hauck pulls me against him, covering my body with his own. But then Cyril is standing, his arms outstretched, the shield of his magic reinforcing the mountain itself. The stone protests, but holds.

Darren stares at Cyril and mutters a soft oath.

It's an eternity before the deafening roar of cascading snow finishes its deadly fall. Then there is silence. Heavy and oppressive. Minutes drag, no one daring to move. No one is quite certain whether the mountain has finished with us. The entrance, once clear, is now completely sealed by layers upon layers of snow and ice.

It's Quinton who finally cuts through the quiet, his voice hard as usual. "We're trapped."