Maren tapped her foot against the floor, seconds away from flinging her fist into Namjoon's nose.

The advisor nestled deeper into an armchair across from Maren's, his pretty eyes peering at Maren from the top of his book.

By Drake, all she wanted to do was read. Lounge in a seat and take herself to another place. Yet, his grimace rooted her to the spot. The only thing that distracted her was the fact that the library was a bit chilly and not a single couch or chair held any blankets. She would move to sit by the fireplace, but she feared Namjoon would cuddle up right at her side to get a better glimpse of her profile.

Maren kept her eyes on the page even if the words went in one ear and out through the other. "Are you enjoying your view?"

"No," Namjoon said.

"You could always look somewhere else," Maren suggested.

"You could always read your book."

"I can't." Maren glowered his way at last. "Your big head is distracting me."

"My big head?" Namjoon scowled. "My head is proportionate, and I use it. Yours simply sits on your shoulders."

"How hard would I have to throw this book to knock your head off?"

"Not sure, faeling. But I know how much force it would take to shove mine down your throat."

Faeling. The title of a baby Fae. A Fae going through adolescence. It unnerved her to the core.

"You know what? We should fight."

Namjoon guffawed. "We are in a palace, Maren, not a gladiator's arena."

"Then treat me like a guest! I understand that I am a prisoner without the title. Courtiers despise when treacherous Maren haunts the halls. Do you think I not notice when guards follow me through the Wings?"

"They fear you on their own."

"For no reason!" Maren threw her hands up in frustration, the book clattering to the floor. "I do not want contact with Faine any more than the rest of you!"

"Sure, but--" Namjoon's voice faltered as he glanced through the window.

Maren frowned at the bewilderment in his eyes. Eventually she trailed his train of sight to find what he stared at. Before she knew it, she was out of her armchair and sprinting down the hall.

"Maren! Do not go out there!" Namjoon bellowed.

She laughed, outrunning the range of his voice. Thanks to her practice, her legs obeyed her much more than in the past. She soared through the halls, the doors passing in blurs through her peripheral. Almost expertly, she navigated past the unsuspecting servants and guards taking up space in the center of corridors.

Then, she was in the garden, a bitter chill whirling up her skirt and over her face.

The sky was a flurry of white and the silver of coins. The wind tore over her frame, making her stumble back until it calmed. But she tiptoed down the steps, gasping as her slippers sank into the soft, merciless pile of white slush.

For a second she blinked at the rain, a mix of apprehensive and grateful to find it white rather than dark grey.

Snowflakes, delicate and small, fell from the heavens.

Her feet dragged through the powder, her ankles going numb.

It coated the autumnal trees in white. It froze the water in the fountains. The dire roses flickered in their brush.

"Maren, get out of there!" Namjoon commanded from the garden doors.

"It's snowing, Namjoon! Get Jin!"

"You are a Fire Fae, Maren. If you stay out there too long, it can kill you!"

"What?"

Maren yelped as sharp pain shot up her calves and into her knees. Though it stung, she ran back to the staircase, gawking at her feet. They had turned purple from the ice, her veins a steely blue. When she tried to move her toes, more of that sharp pain jabbed at her thighs.

Namjoon grabbed her by the waist, gingerly carrying her back into the castle.

"I don't understand," Maren said, wincing at the throbbing that beat against her skin. "Is it winter?"

"No," Namjoon said, his wonder falling back on the white landscape before them. Though beautiful, he beheld it as though it was poison.

"You aren't a Fire Fae," Maren blurted. "Why are you afraid of it?"

Namjoon furrowed his brows at her as though shocked that she knew. But he soon remembered how she found out by the flattening of his lips and his grumbled reply.

"Since the very beginning of time, it has never snowed in Adara."

Maren stared behind him at the servants that were either transfixed at the white rain or rushing to their stations for help and support. They nearly crashed into one another, the panic so clear in their eyes that it made Maren creep closer to Namjoon's legs as though it would make her warmer.

"Namjoon," Maren muttered.

But the advisor was not paying attention. "Something is wrong. Incredibly wrong."

In one swoop, he gathered Maren in his arms and rushed into the belly of the castle.

TO BE CONTINUED...