Isolde leaned back against the cave wall.

The fire warmed the stone. Outside, the winter wind ripped through evergreen trees, scattering needles across the snow. Penny leaned closer to the flames; the other girl's cheeks were flushed, her green eyes the colour of peppermint. Julian and Grayson — the latter of whom was holding a large sword — spoke in quiet murmurs.

Isolde held up her hands to the fire.

Two months ago, Isolde thought, she could have never imagined this. Sitting in a cave with a dethroned princess, a Wynterlynnish nobleman, and the emperor's cousin, examining a mythical sword that could kill gods.

And yet.

"What changed your mind?" Penny asked.

Isolde looked up. Penny's copper lashes looked almost translucent in the firelight, but her gaze was steady. Isolde didn't need to ask what she meant.

"Halson gassed the museum," Isolde said.

Penny's mouth tightened. "Bo? Rosie?"

Isolde shook her head.

"Are you sure?" Penny asked.

Isolde's throat felt raw. "I've seen nightmare somnium before. Nobody could have survived an unexpected attack like this. And we saw guards." She glanced at Julian. "They were dragging bodies out of the tunnel."

Penny exhaled. "I'm sorry."

"It's my fault," Isolde said.

Julian looked up sharply. "That's not true."

"I pushed him too hard." Isolde looked at her hands. "I thought I could change things."

Grayson leaned forward. "How did you escape?"

Isolde looked away. The memories came back again: Halson's hands on her body; Halson's hot breath on her neck. She could hear his hoarse words, burrowing into her ear like a parasite. I like it when you struggle.

"Are you sure that thing's real?" Julian asked.

He was looking at Grayson, who was holding the sword. If the other boy was surprised by the sudden change in subject, he had the decency not to show it. "I bloody well hope so," Grayson said. "I almost drowned in an acidic lake to get it."

"Don't forget the death slide," Penny said solemnly.

Grayson clicked his fingers. "And the hallucinations."

"And the pancaking room," Penny added.

Isolde stared. "The what?"

"Oh," Grayson said. "The walls just sort of..."

He trailed off, making a clapping motion with his hands. Julian shot to his feet.

"Wait," Julian said.

His voice was sharp. His blue eyes were fixed on the cave entrance. He ought to look ridiculous, Isolde thought, half-crouched under the low ceiling, but there was something about his expression that made her heart speed up.

"Can anyone else hear that?" Julian asked, his voice low.

Isolde closed her eyes.

She could hear the crackle of flames and the howl of the wind. But wait — there. Isolde could hear something crunching in the snow outside the cave. A set of footsteps. No, Isolde realized, her heart hammering; at least three sets of footsteps.

Isolde's mouth felt dry. "Halson."

She rose. Penny muttered a curse, hastily shovelling snow on to the fire. The cave plunged into darkness; the only noise was the hiss of the dying fire and their ragged breathing. Julian shifted closer.

"Isolde." His voice was warm in her ear. "If I tell you to run, then you run. Okay?"

Her body trembled. She closed her eyes.

"Iz?" Julian repeated.

Her chest squeezed. "I can't do this."

"Her mark," Grayson said tightly. "It's giving off too much light."

Was it? Isolde hadn't realized. Her skin felt tight and itchy. Her forehead pulsated, and violet light burst behind her eyelids. "Isolde." Julian's breath tickled her neck. "Take deep breaths. Try to slow your heartrate."

"Sorry," she whispered.

"It's alright," Julian murmured. "Just keep trying."

Penny cursed again. "They're getting closer."

The violet light shone brighter. Isolde clapped a hand over her forehead, but the light seeped through her fingers, filling the cave with the first breath of a sunrise. Panic swelled in her chest. "I can't control it."

Penny's mouth tightened. "It's too late. They've seen us." She picked up the sword. "Brace yourself."

Four people stepped into the clearing.

Isolde stilled. The figures drifted like restless ghosts across the frozen field, half-human and half-mirage. Snow coated their hair like ash. There were two men and two women, but none of them were Halson, Isolde realized, crushing relief punching her in the chest.

Next to her, Penny stiffened.

"Ryne?" Penny asked.

Her voice was hoarse. The closest figure stepped into the light. He had green eyes, Isolde realized; the same green eyes as Penny. A dark-haired young woman came next, a silver knife clutched in one hand.

"Anna," Grayson breathed.

The green-eyed boy — Ryne Delafort, Isolde presumed — took a step closer. Penny raised her sharp blade. "Stay where you are."

Ryne paused. "Pen..."

"You're dead." The sword shook. "I watched you die."

Ryne held up his hands. "I can explain."

"This is a trick," Penny whispered.

"It's me," Ryne said. "I'm here."

He took a step closer. Penny swung the sword; the gold blade slashed through the darkness, bright as a midnight sun; it stopped just short of Ryne's throat. He stilled. "My gods." There was something like awe in his voice. "You actually found it."

"Explain," Penny said. "Now."

Ryne's green eyes were steady. "I went after Anna during the wedding. I had the Scythe take my place. It was meant to be temporary, but then..." His throat moved. "Well, you know what happened next."

Something flashed across Penny's face. Pain. Grief. Something sharp and cutting as glass. She kept the sword level, although her hand shook slightly. "Tell me something only you would know. Something specific."

Ryne exhaled. "You once wrote a story called Evil Prince Ryne Steals the Last Croissant. It featured a very unflattering drawing of me in a yellow waistcoat beheading servants to get to a pastry, which is ridiculous." He paused. "I'd never wear yellow."

Penny let out a sob.

The sword clattered to the snow. She threw herself at Ryne, who caught her easily, his gloved hand burrowing in her hair. Penny clung to the lapels of his wool jacket, pressing her face into his chest. "I thought you were dead."

"I know," Ryne murmured. "I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes. "I hate you. A lot."

"That's okay."

"I'm never going to forgive you," Penny said.

"Oh, good," Ryne said dryly. "You haven't changed a bit."

Penny socked him in the chest. She was smiling, but her cheeks were wet. Isolde turned away. She felt suddenly awkward, as if she'd been caught snooping through someone's undergarments. The dark-haired girl — Annalise Cidarius, she realized — began stripping off her gloves.

"So," Annalise said cheerfully. "You must be Isolde." Her eyes flicked to the purple mark on her forehead. "I've heard whispers about you."

Isolde studied her. "And you're Annalise Cidarius."

She smiled. "Just Anna."

It was strange, Isolde thought, to meet someone that had inspired countless of her favourite Melissa De La Fox novels. What Hunts in the Shadows. Girl With the Glass Heart. Anna was shorter than she'd been expecting. More delicate-looking, too; there were dark shadows under her eyes, and her skin was the colour of fresh cream.

Anna turned. "And you are?"

She looked at Julian expectantly. He held out a hand.

"Julian."

"Winterthorpe," Anna finished. "The emperor's cousin. I thought as much." Her blue eyes sparked as she dropped his hand. "Interesting choice of companions, Grayson."

Grayson picked up the fallen sword. "They're on our side."

"How do you know?" Anna asked.

He sighed. "I just do."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "She could be a spy for Halson."

"She isn't," Penny said, stepping back from Ryne.

Anna looked unimpressed. "What makes you so sure?"

Penny crossed her arms. "Because every time you say Halson's name, it's like shoving a burning poker into my chest. Isolde hates him." She jerked her chin in their direction. "So does Julian. Trust me."

Isolde's pulse sped up. She had the oddest sensation of being carved open, her heart and veins and bones carefully laid out on the snow for all to examine. Anna's blue eyes glittered. "Again. Interesting."

Grayson nodded. "Who are they?"

He was looking at the two remaining figures. They were still bathed in shadow, although Isolde could see similarities between them: they had the same rich brown skin and straight nose, the same dimple to the left of their mouths. Siblings? Cousins?

"Slaine. And Althea," Anna said. "They're—"

"Exceptionally good-looking twins," Althea finished.

Slaine cast his sister a long-suffering look. "Healers from Zarob."

Isolde studied them more closely; she didn't know much about politics, but she knew that Zarob was a place of peace and prosperity. It seemed like an odd place to go to recruit soldiers for a war.

"Is this it?" Ryne asked.

He scanned the remains of their makeshift camp: a sputtering fire, two shoddy cloaks, and a half-eaten handful of berries. Penny raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm not hiding soldiers in my pockets."

"I don't know," Grayson said mildly. "You hid an entire blueberry muffin in there earlier. They're very voluminous pockets."

Anna turned to Isolde. "Surely you have people that would fight for you."

She felt herself stiffen. "I grew up in an isolated convent. And Halson rules over the palace with an iron fist." Isolde exchanged a glance with Julian. "Nobody would cross him without a very compelling reason."

"No friends?" Anna prompted.

Her mouth tightened. "No."

"No family connections?"

"I'm a snow child," Isolde said bluntly.

Anna looked at Isolde as if she'd announced that she was actually a block of cheddar cheese. Julian stepped in.

"It's a Loxian term," Julian said. "We use it to refer to children that have been left in the cold. Usually when their parents can't afford to feed them." He scanned the dark woods. "And it's just the four of you?"

Anna stuck her hands in her pockets. "For now."

"Zarob has promised to send more men," Ryne clarified. "They should arrive within the week."

Grayson's eyes darkened. "Zarobians aren't fighters."

"We prefer not to fight," Slaine corrected him. "It doesn't mean that we won't."

"How did you convince them?" Penny asked, turning to Ryne. "Surely the Zarobians were reluctant to join a Delafort."

Ryne's mouth twisted. "You don't want to know. Trust me."

"We should eat," Anna announced.

She shrugged off a rucksack, pulling out several brown parcels. Red juice seeped through the paper. Isolde could smell the metallic tang of blood, and her stomach rolled. The scent of bodies was still in her nostrils.

"Good gods," Grayson said, looking mildly alarmed. "Do you always carry entrails around in your handbag?"

Anna unpacked another parcel. "It's a satchel, actually."

Ryne frowned. "It's not worth the risk to light a fire."

Anna rose. She was examining the damp remains of the campfire, her head tilted. Isolde had the sense that Anna could relight it through sheer sense of will. "We can't fight without energy."

"Halson will have men everywhere," Ryne said.

Anna shrugged. "Then we'll deal with them."

She knelt by the rucksack, pulling out a box of matches. Ryne's eyes narrowed. "Put those matches down, Cidarius."

Anna pulled one out. "No."

"Yes."

"I'm lighting the fire," Anna announced.

She rummaged through her rucksack. Isolde blinked as Anna pulled out a handful of dried kindling, as well as a large log. Good gods, she thought, what else was in that bag? An axe? A mace? A three-headed basilisk?

"Cidarius." Ryne's voice was a warning. "Give me the matches."

He held out his hand. Anna raised an eyebrow. "Come and take them from me."

Ryne blew out a breath. "Of all the inane, ridiculous—"

They continued to squabble, their voices rising over top of each other. Isolde leaned closer to Grayson and lowered her voice, although she needn't have bothered; Anna and Ryne were loud enough to drown out a small volcanic explosion.

"They hate each other, don't they?" Isolde asked.

"No," Grayson sighed. "Not really."

Julian frowned. "Should we intervene?"

"Oh, no," Penny said cheerfully. "Definitely not. It's best to let them work it out."

"Unless one of them pulls a knife," Grayson added helpfully. "Then it's a good idea to intervene immediately."

A flicker of alarm went through Isolde. "Is that likely to happen?"

Penny and Grayson exchanged a look.

"Yes," they both said.

A screech split the air.

Isolde stilled. She scanned the woods, but she could see only trembling pine trees, their heads drooping together like drowsy children. Julian reached behind his shoulder, searching for a phantom bow that wasn't there. Slowly, he lowered his hand.

"Where did that come from?" Julian asked.

Anna held up a hand. "Wait."

Her eyes were fixed on the sky. There was another screech, followed by something like beating wings. Penny swore, raising the sword. But Isolde was looking at Anna, who was smiling, her frozen breath hanging above her like a cloud.

"What is it?" Isolde asked.

"Dragons." Anna turned, her blue eyes glittering. "That's a sky full of dragons."