Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

I was walking through an icy field, staring at the frozen land around me. I was wearing a thin dress, but I couldn't feel the cold. Instead, every flake of snow seemed to warm my heart. My breath was frozen, appearing in fog-shrouded puffs as I walked through the field, trying to figure out where I was. I walked in a stupor, unsure of how I got here.

The bushes were shrouded with white, icy crystals shimmering like diamonds under the faint rays of light that flickered through the clouds. It was like a giant ballroom, with every surface glistening. I glided through the field, brushing my fingers over frozen boughs. But the frost didn't come off on my hand, and as I looked down, my skin was tinted blue—the blue of glaciers and ice floes.

I paused as a sound caught my attention. In the distance, a noise churned, like the shattering of ice flowing across a lake in a frothy wave. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I shivered, fear sweeping in to squeeze my heart.

She was coming—the Snow Witch. I could feel her in the distance, riding the storms, heading my way. Standing atop a sledge made of ice that was pulled by two massive reindeer, she traversed the land, with a trail of storms on her heels. She was beautiful and ghostly, wrapped in a cloak of mist, and the ground shook beneath her passing.

As I watched, she raised her whip—made of lightning—and the reindeer began to bolt, running faster under her will. She was heading my way, her gaze fixated on me, and my heart leaped. Terrified and yet welcoming her, I waited for her arrival.

A loud keening from outside the tower woke me up. With the shutters closed, I had no idea whether it was still night, or whether morning had arrived. I sat up, still huddled beneath the thick blankets. The hearth helped stave away the cold, and with the shutters closed, it was almost warm, but as I swung my feet out onto the floor, I quickly remembered that I was in a stone tower. Even through my stockings, my feet registered the chill of the stone.

I had hunted around in the armoire and found a pair of ankle boots, and exchanged the uncomfortable slippers for them. I tied a shawl around my shoulders, then slowly approached the shutters. At least I was two flights up, and it wouldn't be easy for most creatures to reach my window before I could slam the shutters closed. And then, of course, the bars would keep most of them at bay. Unfortunately, they also kept me inside.

Biting my lip, I slowly unlatched the shutters and opened them. The first light of dawn was breaking through the clouds, casting a pale yellow glow over the field of snow. I squinted, trying to pinpoint the keening sound, but couldn't zero in on a direction. I thought about leaving the shutters open for the early light, but it was too cold unless I could find something warmer to wear. So I decided to go through everything in the tower and tally up my resources.

"I'm lonely," I said out loud. Then everything hit and I began to cry.

What about Yaran? Had Karehl taken him or left him to wander on his own? Would he be treated right? Yaran was my closest companion, loyal and true, and I couldn't stand thinking he might be sold off to some cruel owner. Suddenly, the fact that I was isolated away from everyone I knew, and that I was actually a prisoner, swept over me. I had been so overwhelmed worrying that Karehl might be planning to kill me that I had pushed everything else to the side. I began to pace, and opened the shutters again, braving the cold, just to let some light into the room.

"Okay, get hold of yourself," I said. The sound of my voice made things seem much less eerie. "First, am I absolutely positive the bars are strong?" Maybe I missed one.

I began examining the bars again, looking for just one that might be loose, but they were all tight. Finding no breach in the bedroom level, I closed the shutters and moved down to the kitchen level. I set a hanging pot of water over the fire and then checked the bars on the window there. Again, no luck.

While the water heated, I dashed up to the fourth level. Again, the bars were firm. Returning to the kitchen, I made some tea and heated up the stew from the night before. That, along with a chunk of bread, served for breakfast. As I ate, I thought about my predicament.

I couldn't squeeze through the bars. So, once again, I turned to the door leading to the first floor. I tried everything I could think of, but it was securely locked from the other side.

Okay, so I was stuck. What else could I try? If this was a well-traveled area, I could wait for someone to pass by and yell at them from the window. But as far as I could tell, I was out in the middle of nowhere. This was as bad as being stuck out on the sea would be without wind for the sails.

As the hints of panic began to rise again, I realized that I had to keep occupied, or I'd spiral and that wouldn't help anything. As I washed my dishes with hot water and a cloth, I looked at the gleaming kitchen knife. There were several large enough to tackle cutting a chicken apart, and as I held one in my hand, I thought that perhaps when Karehl returned, I could hide it in my skirts and attack him when he let down his guard.

"Speaking of skirts…" I jogged up the stairs to the bedroom to look for the warmest outfit I could find, on the off chance I could manage to escape. I stoked the fire, then began to sort through the clothes. There weren't a lot of them, but enough to tell that Karehl was planning on keeping me here for at least several months.

All the dresses were flimsy, made for looks, not for practicality. I frowned, holding up a particularly revealing dress. These must be castoffs from his wife. They looked like something Charla would wear. But finally, I found one dress tucked in the back that seemed sturdier and warmer than the others. I also discovered a sewing kit in the wardrobe. With some work, I could turn the dress into a pair of coveralls. The skirt was voluminous enough to sew up the middle. It wouldn't fit quite right and it wouldn't be pretty, but it would do the job. I could line the skirt with a skirt from another dress first, and then wear several camisoles beneath the dress to pad the top for warmth.

"It's not like I have anything else to do," I said, staring at them. I pulled the rocking chair over to the window and, keeping it open for light, I wrapped a throw around me and began to adapt the dress.

After a while, I reached my limit for the cold and closed the shutters. I had finished sewing the second skirt to the first to line it, and now I could cut the skirt in half and stitch them to produce trouser legs. At least the sewing kit had plenty of thread and everything I needed. I had no clue how much time had passed, but when I peeked out of the shutters, the sun had crossed midpoint in the sky and was on its way down. My stomach rumbling, I sliced some smoked game, slapped it between a roll I cut open, added some cheese, and then picked up an apple. After eating, I stoked the fire in the bedroom.

"I'm going to go nuts here. It's one thing to be on my own when I'm out in the wilds with Yaran. It's another when I'm stuck by myself." I was tired of working on the outfit, and since it didn't look like I was going anywhere soon, I decided to take a break and see what books were in the library.

As I carried a lamp up the stairs, I wondered who had built the tower. It didn't seem to be built in the same style as Castle Eleago, or even from the same materials. It felt old—there was nothing to suggest when it had been built, but all buildings had a sense to them, and this whispered to me that it was very old, from a long time before any of us were born. The stones of the tower were weathered and rounded, a lot of the jagged edges long gone. My guess would be that the prince had found the tower and decided to make use of it. It would be the perfect stop if a storm was coming and he was too far from the castle to make it back before the snows stopped him.

As I entered the library and built up the fire, it occurred to me that, if I could be free to come and go, this would be the perfect place to live. It was protected from the elements, complete within itself, and would withstand assaults from anybody who wanted inside.

I settled down at the desk, relaxing in the upholstered chair. Curious, I began nosing through the drawers. There was blank paper, a couple quills and several ink bottles. There were also a couple of folded messages in the back of one of the drawers, and I withdrew them. They had been sealed at one time, but the seals were broken. I glanced at their contents.

The first one read:

His Majesty will visit you on the day after tomorrow. Be prepared for him, and you may be rewarded with a walk about the grounds. He will expect his usual dinner. If you are on your menses, tell the guard immediately so that plans may be changed.

I stared at what I assumed was the royal seal from Eleago. So, I wasn't the first woman to be held in this tower. I wondered why Karehl kept certain women out here, rather than in the castle, given Charla knew about his wandering eye. Then, remembering that she wanted him to kill me, it occurred to me that maybe he kept the women here whom she hated, to either avoid antagonizing her, or to keep us safe from her.

That brought me to wondering how long he kept each woman he'd imprisoned here. How long would it take him to tire of me? And then, would he set me free, or sacrifice me in order to remove any evidence of my existence?

I glanced at the second message, but it was almost a carbon copy of the first one. The dates were almost two years apart, but there was nothing on either note to indicate whether they were sent to the same woman. I tucked them into the back of the desk, sobering. If it had been the same woman, she'd been locked out here for two years, alone. What had happened to her? And what if she got pregnant? Would he let her survive, let alone the child?

I began to search the bookcases, looking for anything that might give me more answers. The stories were old tales, ones that seemed standard throughout the People of the Snow. There were a couple history books as well, and several tales of adventurers who had ventured out into the world. They all looked tattered and old. I noticed one in particular, titled Travels Through The Southlands . It had an ink stain on the spine, an odd check mark. I reached for it. While I didn't feel particularly interested in the subject, I suddenly wanted to look at it.

As I placed my fingers on the top and tried to slide it out from between the other books, I heard a click. The book slid backward, the bottom still touching the shelf, and the next thing I knew, the entire panel of shelves slowly began to swing into the room.

"What the?—?"

I jumped back to avoid being hit by the swinging door. It slowly creaked open, exposing a staircase. My heart began to thud. The stairwell was dark, and seemed to circle against the outside wall. I looked around and then dragged a heavy side table over to prop open the door. I didn't want it shutting on me while I explored the staircase, and then not be able to get out. After making certain the door was securely open, I picked up one of the lamps and began to descend the staircase.

The stairwell was narrow, and once or twice I had to stop to brush away cobwebs. I saw the remains of spiderwebs, but it was too cold for them to live—and there were no flying bugs to trap for their dinner at this time of year. I brushed them away, watching the lamp to make sure it stayed lit. Lack of air could extinguish flames and I didn't want to get myself in a worse situation.

I followed the stairs, circling downward. By my estimate, I was nearing the bedroom level. Sure enough, I saw the outline of a door against the wall. I stopped on the narrow landing and tried to find a way to open it from the inside. And sure enough, I found a small lever. I pressed it and found myself staring at the inside of the armoire. So, if there was a secret panel on the fourth floor, and the third, there should be one on the kitchen level. But most important: Would there be a hidden entrance on the bottom floor, and could I use it to escape?

As I started down the stairs again, I decided that there was no way Karehl had actually built this tower. He wouldn't keep prisoners in it if he knew about the secret entrance. So he had found it, but hadn't bothered to fully explore every inch of it.

On the kitchen level, the entrance was in the pantry, which made sense. Holding my breath, I turned back to the staircase. Sure enough, the steps led still farther down. I hurried down to the bottom, where I found a door. It was carved from the stone so it didn't stand out. I pushed against it and, to my relief, it opened a little, pushing against the knee-deep snow. I couldn't open it fully, but the crack was large enough for me to slip outside, if I held my breath.

I knew that I couldn't run off yet—not without proper clothing and supplies. As I began to close the secret entrance, I glanced down at the snow. The disturbance was obvious, since the door had pushed against it. If Karehl returned before the next snowstorm, he would be able to see that something had gone on.

"I have to hurry," I said, glancing at the sky. The clouds were socking in, and I could smell snow in the offing. Chances were, Karehl wouldn't return tonight, so I decided to take the risk and I shut the door, then hurried back up to the library level. As I closed the secret passage, I noted which book I'd pulled to open the panel.

I sat down to think. Traversing the outdoors would be problematic without a horse, but I had no choice. He had taken Yaran with him. Swearing, I grabbed up the dress and began to work on it again, trying to hurry as fast as I could without making many mistakes. I stopped for a bite to eat when my stomach rumbled, but otherwise, I kept up the work throughout the evening and long into the night.

Finally, late into the night, I finished and tried on the padded outfit. It fit. It wasn't the best made, but I could wear at least two pair of knickers beneath the voluminous makeshift trousers. I hunted through the armoire, finally finding a light cloak. It wasn't anywhere near as warm as my cloak that Karehl had taken. But…

I glanced at the bed. The comforter was thick and warm, and if I covered it with a layer of fat or wax from the candles, it would repel water and snow to some degree. I draped it around my shoulders. If I had the time, I could adapt it with the sewing kit. But I wanted out of this place. Even if I perished in the woods, it was better than being at Karehl's threats and whims.

I thought of Bran. I missed him. It hurt to think of him being locked up—but Karehl had said that he'd escaped and I could only hope that he made it far enough away so that the prince couldn't find him. Fenling, too. I'd grown fond of both of them, in different ways. Bran, I was falling for. I'd never been in love, but there was something about him that made me want to crawl inside his embrace and stay there. And I thought he might feel the same way, though I wasn't entirely sure.

But I knew that he cared about me, and the thought of him having been locked up in the dungeon had plunged me into a depression. Fenling, who was Bran and Karehl's cousin—and a close friend of Bran's—had become a good friend and I trusted her. Hopefully, she and the Lorani who followed her had managed to avoid the prince and his guards. I wondered if I'd ever see them again, but that led to darker thoughts and I pushed them away to concentrate on the business of escaping.

I carried several candles over to the counter and found a pan. I put them in the pan and sat them in the corner of the hearth, where they began to melt. Once the wax had melted, I spread out the comforter out on the floor, found a broad, flat knife and began to spread the wax over the cloth as evenly as I could, creating a thin layer that soaked into the bedspread. It wouldn't be waterproof, but it would help. I finished doing that near midnight, then spread wax over the ankle boots. After they dried and I put them on, I would wrap torn sheets around them and my legs, tying them with strips of cloth. I would then cut up the deer hide rug I had found, and tie those strips around the boots.

I decided to start out at dawn, after a few hours of sleep. As I crept into bed, pulling the rest of the blankets over me—the comforter I'd waxed was drying—I reflected on the fact that freedom was going to cost me a great deal—perhaps even my life. But it was a price I was willing to pay.