Before she could answer, his gaze zeroed in on the jeweled scabbard at her side and the sword with the enormous diamond shining brightly in its hilt.

“Winter’s Frost!” Krysti swore. “That’s it, isn’t it? That legendary sword you told me about—Roland’s sword, right? The one you said went missing after his death.”

“I—yes.” The boy was too observant by half. But she trusted him as she trusted few people. “It’s Roland’s sword. Made for him by the god Helos, himself.”

“How did you find it?”

“It’s a long story, and I need to get back to the king.” She handed the ice spear to Sven. “Here, take this. If we run into trouble, I’ll be more help with the sword than that spear.”

A look of reverent awe passed over Sven’s face as he curled his fist around Thorgyll’s famed spear. “I will guard it with my life, my queen.”

“And you”—she turned to Krysti—“I need you to go back to Gildenheim and wait for me there.”

“What? No! I’m coming with you.”

“Not this time. I need you here, where I know you’re safe.” Whether the Ice King truly had returned or whether she was simply going to confront her brother’s army and send them packing, things were about to get very dangerous. Too dangerous for a young boy, no matter how brave he was. “Promise me.”

He scowled and kicked at the temple’s stone floor. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, knowing how hard it was to be left behind. Turning to the others, she said, “Let’s go.” As they headed towards the mouth of the cave, Kham murmured to Ungar, “Both priestesses are dead, and there was an ice thrall waiting for me when I went to get the sword. It was Elka Villani. That means my brother is probably somewhere near. Tell the men to be alert.”

Ungar’s square jaw flexed. “Understood, my queen.”

“There’s more. Before she died, Elka told me Reika drank the Ice Heart. She said Reika had ‘unleashed him.’ I think she was talking about Rorjak.”

“What?” Initial shock gave way to a string of blistering curses. “What was she thinking?”

As they neared the cave mouth, Khamsin could feel energy throbbing like a heartbeat in the brilliant diamond at Blazing’s hilt. The Rose on her wrist warmed and pulsed with the same rhythm. The sky was still dark, but the eastern horizon was beginning to lighten. The sun would soon be rising.

A strong wind blew from the south, chill enough that both guards standing by the cave entrance had pulled down their visors to protect their faces from the bitter cold.

“Karl, Geri, time to go, lads,” Ungar said.

Something whistled past Kham’s ear. At her side, Sven grunted. Still clutching Thorgyll’s spear, he toppled like a felled tree. Khamsin’s mind didn’t fully process what had happened until Ungar gave a gurgling cry and clutched at the arrow protruding from his throat. Two more White Guard crumpled in rapid succession, leaving only the two by the cave mouth.

“Krysti! Get down!” She spun towards him, her first instinct to protect him, only to stop short. One of the remaining two White Guards was pulling his bloody sword from the back of one of Ungar’s fallen men. The other held a sword to Krysti’s throat.

“What are you doing? Release Krysti at once!” Kham commanded. She reached for Blazing, half drawing the blade from her belt before a familiar voice called out.

“Storm, don’t! They’re on our side.”

“Falcon?” She pivoted halfway back around as her brother and two white-cloaked Summerlanders emerged from behind a tumble of rocks to her right. “What are you doing here? And what do you mean they’re on our side?” She glanced back over her shoulder towards the mouth of the cave. The White Guard holding Krysti lifted his ram’s head visor to reveal dark Summerlander skin and cold black eyes.

Movement higher up the hill betrayed the presence of a white-cloaked archer. She only saw the one, but there had to be others. Ungar, Sven, and the other two men had gone down in a matter of seconds. That meant her brother had at least four archers hidden amongst the rocks and snow.

Her fingers tightened on Blazing’s grip. Power pulsed against her palm. Playing for time while she evaluated her options, she turned back to her brother. “Falcon, why are you here? Didn’t you get my message? I told you not to come.”

Her brother, the hero she’d idolized all her life, shook his head, and said, “Of course I came. You’re my sister, and I love you. I wasn’t about to let Wynter Atrialan stake you out on some glacier to die.”

He spoke with such absolute sincerity that Kham’s heart stuttered, and for an instant, she truly believed he’d come because he loved her and had to save her. She wanted to believe him, just as she’d wanted to believe the best of him all her life.

But she didn’t.

“If you came to save me, Falcon, then why are you here instead of at the camp where your bird found Tildy and me?”

“I know what that husband of yours can do, and I know better than to face him in battle without a weapon capable of defeating him. That’s it, isn’t it? Roland’s sword.”

She glanced down at the gleaming sword at her waist. Her fingers tightened on the grip. “No,” she lied. “It’s a replica Wynter had made for me because he knows how much I adore the legends of Roland.”