Krysti leaned slowly towards her until his mouth was pressed against her ear. “Don’t . . . move.” His voice was a thready whisper. “Don’t . . . make . . . a . . . sound.”

His fear was contagious. Her heart started to pound. Her throat went dry. She swallowed—or tried to—and nodded.

The scream came again, high-pitched and terrible. Kham scanned the mountainside, trying to follow the sound to its source. She had no idea how far sound could travel. No idea how close the source of that scream might be. She couldn’t see anything moving. Just snow and trees and rock and more snow.

“Can you make the wind blow towards us and down into the valley?” Krysti whispered.

Kham hesitated, then admitted, “I would be afraid to try.” Wynter could have done it easily, but her ability to control her weathergift was still more chance than certainty.

Krysti took a breath. “That’s okay. We’re still upwind. But we need to get away from here as quietly and quickly as possible. Quietly being the most important. Try not to make any noise at all.”

“All right.”

“You go first. I’ll hold the tree.”

She eased her way across the rock to the tree they’d used as a ladder.

As she started down the trunk, Krysti said, “Khamsin?”

She paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“If I tell you to run, you get to Kori and ride away as fast as you can.”

“What?” She barely remembered to keep her voice to a whisper. “No! I’m not abandoning you here. Don’t be ridiculous!”

“We don’t have time to argue!” He glowered at her. “You’re the queen. It’s my job to protect you. I accepted that responsibility the minute I snuck you out without your guards. So this is how it’s going to be.”

“Krysti . . .”

“If I tell you to run, I’m dead already. So you run! And you don’t stop or look back until you reach Gildenheim. Understand?” In that moment, this ten-year-old boy she’d befriended seemed decades older than his years.

She swallowed the dry lump in her throat. “I understand.” There was no doubt in her mind they were genuinely in mortal danger because whatever had produced that scream had turned a ten-year-old boy from laughing child to a grim protector willing not only to berate his queen but to sacrifice his life to ensure her safety. Not that she was ever going to let him do that, of course, but she wasn’t going to waste any more time arguing about it.

“Good. Now go. And be quiet.” He cast a quick glance back over his shoulder. “Right now, silence is more important than speed. They can sense both sound and motion, and much of either will give away our position.”

They who? She wanted to ask, but she’d already delayed them long enough. Khamsin eased her way down the tree trunk, freezing at each infinitesimal crunch and crack as she blindly tested the limbs to support her weight. Just get to the bottom, Khamsin. Take your time. Silence is more important than speed. Climbing down the tree took much longer than her earlier, laughing ascent. She breathed a shuddering sigh of relief when she reached the bottom, then held the trunk to keep it from rolling as Krysti made his way down after her.

He made much shorter work of it, and when he hopped silently to the ground, he held a finger to his lips, and whispered, “Follow me, and try to walk in my footsteps.”

The boy’s clan-gift and his years of hunting the woods with his uncle served him well. He managed to pick a near-silent path to their horses through the snow, rocks, and bracken that carpeted the forest floor. When they reached the horses, he cut one of the blankets into eight pieces and tied them around the horses’ hooves with the roll of twine in his saddlebags. Though the questions were all but burning to get free, Khamsin stayed silent and helped him wrap the horses’ hooves. Krysti helped her mount, swung up in his own saddle, and guided them back to the trail that led down the mountainside to the main valley road.

“We need to get back to Gildenheim—fast,” Krysti said, as they stopped to remove the cloths from the horses’ hooves. “Are you up for a gallop?”

“Of course.” Though Krysti was clearly still concerned enough to keep his voice quiet, he wasn’t whispering anymore. Kham took that to mean the immediate danger was past. “What was that back there? I didn’t see anything.”

“Few ever do—at least not those who live to tell the tale.” Done unwrapping the horses’ hooves, Krysti swung into the saddle and gathered up his reins. “That was a garm, the deadliest monster in all of Wintercraig. We’ve got to tell the king.”

The pair of horses thundered down the valley road towards Gildenheim. Long before they reached it, they saw flocks of birds winging through the sky and heard the echoing sound of horns blowing in the villages around them. Three long blasts. Then a pause, then three long blasts again.

“What does that mean?” Kham asked.

“It means the king already knows about the garm. He’s calling for the Great Hunt.”

“I don’t understand why I have to stay behind. Galacia Frey and her priestesses are going.”

Wynter drew a deep breath and reminded himself to remain patient as his wife crossed her arms and glowered. Ever since Khamsin and Krysti had returned to Gildenheim yesterday, riders had been pouring in through the gates, and the skies were filled with birds sending replies to Gildenheim’s summons. Now dawn was near, and enough Winterfolk had gathered to start the Great Hunt. And Khamsin was not happy that she would not be one of them.