I knew I needed a good sleep—so naturally I tossed and turned restlessly all night. And still the dawn came all too soon. We gathered silently in the entrance hall, and I could see the relief on Oliver’s face when Sterling appeared as promised.

I had half expected Giselle to be absent in a silent protest, but she was there to wave us off, Emmeline accompanying her. Emmeline seemed even more subdued than usual, not showing the least interest in our obvious departure. Oliver looked guilty, his eyes constantly flicking between his sisters, but neither he nor Giselle actually spoke about her abandonment.

Sterling had allocated out the supplies, and it was obvious I had received the lightest pack. I made no complaint, however. I might have been working on my fitness, but I didn’t feel entirely equipped for a dangerous hike up a steep and icy mountain range.

None of the other inhabitants of the palace so much as cast us a second glance, and the people in the city were no more interested. Snow now lingered on all the streets and stairways of the mountain, and I actually felt a pang of relief knowing the Elamese army was so close.

At least if something happened to us, Giselle wouldn’t end up trapped by snow and left to starve to death.

I shook off the morbid thoughts as we reached the northern-most edge of the city. A trail led upward, but Sterling had warned that it would take us only a small part of the way. His people had tracked a passable route, but they didn’t travel it often enough for a true trail to have developed.

I hitched my pack higher and looked down at my clothes in distaste. I had been forced to raid the wardrobe of an unprotesting Emmeline because I didn’t have anything even close to suitable for this journey. Giselle hadn’t finished growing, so she was too short for me to borrow anything of hers. But, unfortunately, Emmeline was taller than me, despite being younger, and her clothes didn’t fit nearly as well as I would have liked. If I’d had more time, I would have had my maids readjust them, but the time available hadn’t allowed for it.

And that was if I could have roused them to the effort. I had watched with growing alarm as my own people took on the same disinterested air as the locals. They weren’t as far gone—yet—but it seemed my gift had saved more than just Oliver and Giselle. I shivered at the thought of losing myself to the enchantment, but Oliver looked back at me with concern, so I forced a smile.

My thoughts returned to my outfit. It was quite a cunning ensemble, really, and I would have loved to have one that actually fit, sewn especially for me. Particularly if it was designed by my genius sister-in-law Evie. An inner, skin-tight layer provided extra warmth, and every item was water-proof. The fur-lined boots reached almost to my knees, and the long jacket had been designed to look like a dress, although it cut off just above my knees. Still, between the jacket and the boots, only a short stretch of pants was visible.

A clever compromise between modesty and practicality, since not even the most elegant noble-bred lady could be expected to trek up mountains and through snow in a proper gown. The fur that lined it showed around the hood and along the bottom of the jacket and felt impossibly soft against my cheeks.

Sterling talked as we walked—apparently suffering from no lack of breath—telling me all about the difficulties in finding game so high in the mountains, particularly in the winter. He explained how no part of the animal was wasted and described something of the process of turning animal hides into clothing such as what I wore.

It sounded like a highly unpleasant process to me, but he claimed that his village possessed several experts and that the clothing they created was one of the most prized items their traders brought to the city. I had to admit to some interest in meeting these people and even felt a pang of regret that our visit would of necessity be so short. Perhaps one day, when the kingdom had been restored, I could visit the village again. I could even come with the party returning their object to them, perhaps.

By the time it reached late afternoon, I had sourly abandoned any such plans. If there was one thing I did not intend to do, it was climb up this mountain ever again. My legs ached, and the cold air burned its way down to my lungs with every gulping breath. And yet every time I stopped to look back, it seemed we had come almost no distance at all.

And in case the trail wasn’t already difficult enough, we soon encountered snow too deep to be easily waded through. At that point I discovered the use of the strange contraptions someone had attached to the outside of my pack.

A hardwood frame shaped into an oval that tapered at the back supported a latticework of rawhide lacings. Oliver explained it was called a snowshoe and had me sit on a nearby boulder while he showed me how to attach them to my boots.

“Ideally, I would have preferred you to have a chance to practice in them first,” he said as he finished his demonstration. “But…”

He shrugged and stood back up, and I wondered why my feet could feel the absence of his hands, despite the many layers between us. I had hoped for at least a smile from him, but it seemed despite his gratitude at my accompanying him, he hadn’t entirely forgotten the betrayal of my deal with Cassandra. I could almost read the conflicting emotions in his eyes every time they rested on me.

I soon found I had to adopt an unnatural stride to make the shoes work, and several times I ended up on my backside in the snow before I got the hang of it. Oliver demonstrated the best method, a stride which allowed the inner edges of the two snowshoes to slide over one another. But it was only through trial and error that I worked out how to correctly roll my feet to make it work.

And even after I thought I had the trick of it, a tight turn between two towering walls of rock sent me straight back onto the snow again. In the end Oliver had to come back for me and help me to execute a strange maneuver which required me to bend my legs at an awkward angle so that one had completely turned while the other still remained straight. He called it a kick turn, explaining it in such a cheerful manner that I muttered dire threats about who exactly I would soon be kicking.

He just laughed, probably because he knew that any actual attempt on my part to kick anyone was more likely to lead to my downfall than theirs. When I made it around what turned out to be a series of difficult turns, I crowed with such triumph that he laughed again.

Sterling, however, merely frowned at me and told me to keep my voice down. “There are predators even up here,” he said. “Not to mention the risk of an avalanche.”

That effectively rendered me entirely mute for the next hour. And by the time we stopped to make camp for the night, I was far too exhausted to talk. My calves burned more intensely than the magical banked fire in my chest, and I made only feeble attempts to help with the set up before I was thankfully told to sit down and rest.

Sterling had led us to a small, empty cave, protected enough by a rocky overhang to be free of snow. I could only hope his route included such snug shelters for every night of our journey. I didn’t much fancy camping out among the snowdrifts.

I detached the cumbersome snowshoes—proud to manage it on my own—and massaged my feet while Sterling piled a collection of small branches ready for a campfire. I had noticed him collecting them as we walked, securing them to the top of his pack with a strap clearly designed for such a use.

When he went out to fill a small pot with snow, ready for melting into water, I pulled off my gloves and called cheerily after him that I would light the fire while he was gone. He didn’t respond, but as soon as he was out of sight, I poured all of my exhaustion and irritation into the warm spot inside me. It blazed up more strongly than I had intended, and the trickle of flame I had meant to send at the branches more closely resembled a fire ball.

I spluttered and scrambled backward, cutting off the stream of fire and gratefully watching it subside into a spark that soon became a merrily burning fire. The guilty voice in my head seemed to speak aloud, echoing through the cave.

“You really should be more careful, you know. You’ll give yourself away if you keep doing things like that. Or burn one of our packs, or something.”

Apparently the slight figure who had entered the cave took my look of surprise as disapproval because she added, “Oh, relax. Sterling recruited Oliver and they’re off gathering more wood. He can’t hear me.”

A slow smile spread across my face, and I actually chortled.

“Oliver is not going to be pleased to see you here.”

Giselle shrugged. “And I wasn’t pleased he tried to leave me behind. Your point?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” I hastened to assure her.

“You say that now,” she muttered, “but I don’t remember you coming to my defense back at the palace.”

“If it had been up to a vote, you would have had my support.” I had disapproved of excluding the younger girl, after all. I just hadn’t been willing to stick myself into someone else’s family only to advocate for a dangerous course.

“So you say now,” she muttered, as she busied herself removing her pack and snowshoes. I noticed, somewhat disconsolately, that her pack was bigger than mine, and that she looked all-too-comfortable with the hated snowshoes. It had probably been easy for her to follow us when we had been confined to my slow pace.

By the time the two men returned, we had retrieved the pot of snow Sterling had left outside the cave when he went looking for wood. It wasn’t boiling yet, but it had melted into liquid, and we had laid out the ingredients ready for the stew we intended to make.

Funnily enough, it wasn’t gratitude that filled Oliver’s expression when he came into the cave and got a good look at us.

“GISELLE!!” He choked on his next words, apparently too angry to even speak properly. Sterling merely raised his eyebrows before busying himself as far out of the way as he could get.

“Oh, sit down and relax, Oliver,” said Giselle. “What exactly did you expect?”

Oliver turned his incensed gaze to me.

“Don’t look at me! I didn’t know anything about this. But neither did I like leaving her behind, so you won’t hear me lamenting.”

He glared at us both and stomped off to the back of the cave.

“Don’t worry,” said Giselle, dropping a small packet of dried herbs into the water. “He’ll get over it quickly.”

And, sure enough, by the time he had divested himself of his snow shoes and come back to join us, he seemed reasonably calm.

“I suppose there’s no point trying to send you back.”

“None at all,” said Giselle, still calmly adding ingredients to the pot.

He sighed. “Well, I tried, I suppose.” He looked into the fire for a moment and then his suspicious gaze flicked to Sterling and then me.

I just smiled innocently. He clearly suspected I had used unnatural means to light it, but he should have known I wasn’t stupid enough to do it in front of Sterling.

He sighed again. “You two girls are going to be the death of me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said briskly, stripping the bark from a likely looking stick I could use to stir the stew. “From where I’m sitting, we’re far more likely to end up saving you.”

“Forgive me,” he said, his smile returning. “I should know better than to underestimate either of you by now.” But I noticed his gaze lingered on me, and I wondered if it meant he had forgiven me.

Secretly I was hoping that having Giselle along meant I wouldn’t always be trailing behind, but the next day proved these hopes to be unfounded. I grumbled to myself as the morning wore on. I didn’t like being the slowest and weakest, and I had to keep reminding myself that they were relying on my strength in other areas.

By late morning, I didn’t have breath or concentration to grumble, even to myself. The trail—such as it was—climbed steeply upward, alternating with occasional sudden drops as we encountered small valleys. The other three easily adjusted their gait for the steeper slope, angling their shoes outward or sidestepping to give them more traction. But I had only just gotten used to walking the other way, and I didn’t appreciate being back at a beginner level again.

Eventually it became steep enough that Sterling, who still led the way, began to thrust the tips of his snowshoes into the snow with each step, creating a sort of temporary stairway for those of us behind to utilize. As long as I didn’t look behind me, I found climbing up these stairs easier. And I had to admit that at every stage my path had been made significantly easier by having the trail broken ahead of me. The effort of going first began to wear even on Sterling, and by afternoon he was alternating positions with Oliver, and even occasionally Giselle.

When we hit our first descent, I stopped at the top and watched Sterling make his way down. Oliver followed not far behind him, but Giselle stopped beside me, and only her presence enabled me to hold back tears. The two seemed to half-step, half-slide, their exaggerated steps allowing them to basically run down the hill. I wasn’t ready to admit it to her, but I wasn’t at all sure that I could emulate yet another stride. Not without ending up rolling down the hill as a giant snowball.

Giselle seemed to sense my despair, however.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “They’re just breaking the trail for us.” When I looked over at her, she was actually grinning. “This is the fun part.”

Sitting down on the very crest of the hill, she gave me one more smile before pushing off. Following the trail packed down by Sterling and Oliver’s snowshoes, she slid all the way down on her rear-end. Watching her, I found myself mirroring her smile. Now that I was fairly certain I could do.

When I reached the bottom, Oliver held out a hand to help me to my feet, and the clasp of his hand combined with the joy of the break from the unexpected slog. I had to clamp down on a sudden rush of warmth inside me.

Before it could gain momentum, however, Sterling appeared suddenly at our side, his face grim. I hadn’t even realized he had disappeared during our descent.

His eyes kept darting around us, and his voice had dropped low.

“I went scouting a short way ahead. There’s a section along here with lots of rocky overhangs. In the past there have even been rockfalls that blocked the way, so I thought it best to have a look.”

Oliver frowned. “Is it blocked now?”

Sterling shook his head quickly. “No, but I found something I don’t like the look of at all.” He paused.

“Well, come on,” I said at last, rubbing my arms, despite the warmth burning inside me. “Spit it out!”

“There’s a snow leopard den up ahead. And there’s nothing a snow leopard loves so much as ambushing its prey from above. Using just the sort of terrain we have coming up.”