Chey stood over the sleeping children, hating to wake them but having no other choice. She’d given Raune and his men more than enough time to get back, which meant something had gone wrong downstairs. Sick in the pit of her belly, she reached down toward Elias—when the creak of the library door stalled her hand. With the flashlight off, all she could see was a dark silhouette slip into the room.

“Your Highness?” Raune said.

Relief flooded through Chey. Leaving Elias to sleep, she carefully crossed the room toward the guard. “I was just about to get the children into the tunnels,” she whispered.

“You waited longer than I suggested,” he pointed out.

“I did.” Chey paused before Raune, attempting to gauge his mood and his health status. She didn’t detect any obvious injuries, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. “What happened? Are we okay?”

“Yes. We’ve retaken control of the castle. The guards and Urmas somehow knew we were coming, however, and we lost one of our own,” Raune said.

“Oh no. That’s terrible. What of the advisors, Urmas and Helina?” Chey kept her voice low so she didn’t wake the children. Her heart ached that one of her guards had been killed.

“We’ve subdued the traitors. Helina and Urmas have been put into separate quarters. The advisors loyal to you and His Majesty are helping keep watch over the others. If you’d prefer to let the children sleep, I can stay with them while you go downstairs,” Raune said.

“You’re sure there aren’t any hidden guards waiting to spring a surprise attack?” Chey asked before checking on her children.

“We’ve accounted for everyone. There are no more threats hiding in the castle,” Raune replied.

“I’ll send Carita up when I get down there, so you can join me when I address the council. Please have Carita take the children to Elias’s bedroom when they wake and keep them occupied for the time being.” Chey waited for a nod from Raune before departing the library. Using Elias’s flashlight, she made her way cautiously down each flight of stairs until she reached the main floor. Two candles provided the only illumination in the grand foyer, casting flickering shadows over the stone walls.

The advisors who had remained loyal to her and Sander stood with their heads bent together, speaking to each other in whispers. When they saw her on the stairs, the men walked over with concerned looks on their faces.

“Is it true that the heirs are safe upstairs?” one asked.

“Yes. The children are well and being protected currently by Raune,” Chey replied.

“How did you manage it, Your Highness? Raune didn’t have time to tell us the tale. The guards said you’d been locked out at the gate,” another advisor said.

“Simply, we skirted around to a secret entrance and reentered the castle. We need to have a meeting soon to decide what to do about our circumstances. Helina and Urmas are to remain under lock and key until I say otherwise,” Chey said. This time, she meant to make sure that neither one, nor any of the guards who had taken Helina’s side, talked their way free of their temporary prison.

There could be no repeats of Helina exerting her former power in Kallaster.

“We fully agree. The advisors who backed Helina are all being held in the blue parlor as well,” one of the councilmen said.

“Good. They can stay there,” Chey said. When she saw Carita hovering off to the side near the archway to the grand ballroom, Chey summoned the maid over. “Please go relieve Raune in the ugl—in the upstairs informal library. Once the kids wake, escort them to Elias’s room and keep them there.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Carita dipped a curtsy and hurried to the stairs.

Turning off the flashlight to preserve the battery, Chey faced the advisors again. “Gather two extra blankets each for Helina, Urmas, and the others. They are to have no firewood from our supply in the main rooms. They’ll survive with the blankets or not at all. As far as rations, I’ll figure out appropriate amounts and deal with that later.”

“The temperature has dropped considerably,” an advisor said, as if she needed the reminder.

“They can pace or do jumping jacks, I don’t care. Helina can use her cane to walk around the room a few times. Surely it can’t be any worse than traveling overland from the docks to the castle in a snowstorm. It may not be pleasant, but they won’t freeze to death inside so close to our own rooms where we’ll have heat.” Chey had little sympathy for any of them. Not when she’d been tackled down the stairs and her children’s lives threatened.

“Falk and his ilk will be infuriated—”

Chey stared at the advisor, cutting his sentence off before he could finish. “Can you, or can you not, handle a small group of irate men? We’ve only got so many people to go around, and I’d prefer not have the maid or the cook deal with them.”

The advisors, appearing stung and stunned, fell to silence.

“Really. You’ve got to have more backbone, gentlemen. I know it’s difficult to think of actually getting hands-on when you’re used to arguing across a conference room, but this is what it takes to get things done. Can I count on you?” she asked, resolutely meeting each man’s eyes. She appreciated their support, but she also knew that down deep, every single one had made his choice by who he thought would come out the victor of the battle for Kallaster Castle. If she’d learned nothing else, she’d learned that the councilmen forever did what was in their best interests first. The time for arguing and debating was over.

Now was the time for doing.

With a chastised, somewhat unhappy expression, one of the advisors said, “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Excellent. We’ll need to meet later to discuss what we’re going to do if the weather doesn’t break. Rations may need to get tighter; wood may need to be used more sparingly. With the loss of so many people and volunteers, you’ll need to step up and take their place. We need snow brought in with buckets from outside and melted for drinking water, among many other things. See Chef for instruction.”

One advisor’s spine stiffened, as if he considered those tasks beneath him. He did not dispute her orders. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Leave two candles burning in the foyer. Everyone else will carry a flashlight or a candle from now on to move upstairs or down,” she said.

Grim-faced, the advisors bowed their heads in acknowledgement, as if they, too, knew this was their last stand. The final act of defiance and survival. From here, things would deteriorate rapidly until either the weather broke and help arrived, or they perished in the ongoing, relentless winter.

Chey left the advisors to their tasks. Heading to the stairs, she climbed with sudden weariness that made her limbs feel leaden. Despite her exhaustion, Chey felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. She hadn’t given up, hadn’t given in. Determination and a stubborn will to survive had served her well in the face of overwhelming odds, as had putting trust in a young boy who would one day be king.

After a brief nap, she promised herself she would tackle the matter of food supplies and a new redistribution schedule.

Things had been rough, and they were about to get rougher.

Sander couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the moon. The pale glow shone down through a break in the clouds, turning the white landscape an incandescent blue. Or so it seemed to Sander, who stood on the front steps of the farmhouse they’d arrived at an hour ago. Gunnar was inside speaking with the owners, while Leander and Mattias searched for more gas.

“They’re totally out, Dare,” Mattias said as he rounded the corner of the building. Dark whiskers covered Mattias’s usually smooth jaw, his hair grown out to the point that wisps of it escaped the hood of his coat.

“Nothing in any of the vehicles?” Sander asked, frustrated to hear there was a lack of fuel when he wanted it most.

“Nothing. The farmer utilized every last drop,” Mattias said. He came to a stop with one snow boot resting on the lowest stair. “We checked everywhere. Even their snowmobiles are bone dry.”

“Look,” Sander said quietly after a moment, nodding his head at the landscape. “The moon is out. This is the second time in months we’ve had a glimpse of the sky. It’s the perfect opportunity to keep going, to really make up some ground—and we’re low on gas. I think we should siphon everything we’ve got left into one snowmobile. I’ll go on by myself—”

“No way, Dare,” Mattias said, interrupting. “Not alone.”

“I’ll get better mileage if it’s just me and I’m not towing a sled. I can wear a pack with supplies,” Sander said, meeting Mattias’s eyes.

“It’s just too dangerous. What if this is the proverbial calm before a new storm?” Mattias replied, throwing an arm wide to indicate the world at large. “You shouldn’t be fooled by a brief glimpse of the sky.”

“I have to get back to Kallaster, Mattias. This is the first time the weather has been this clear since—hell, I don’t remember when. Months and months ago. We have to move while we can,” Sander said.

“It’s not that I don’t understand. But you won’t do Chey any good if you’re dead,” Mattias countered. “Even if we combined the gas, you’ve probably only got another twenty miles or so before it runs out. Maybe thirty, if you’re really lucky.”

“That’s twenty or thirty miles less I have to walk.” Sander glanced away from his brother when Leander made an appearance around the corner of the farmhouse.

“Yeah, we’ve got nothing in the way of fuel here,” Leander said as he came upon Mattias and Sander. “What’s this I hear about walking?”

“Dare wants to combine what fuel is left in the snowmobiles and go on by himself,” Mattias said.

“I’ll go with you,” Leander said to Sander. “We’ll get as far as we can, then go on foot.”

“I can go farther on the snowmobile if I go by myself. Less weight to haul. No sled, just me and a pack,” Sander replied.

“Bad idea, going by yourself. Another snowstorm could be on the horizon, maybe the worst one we’ve seen yet,” Leander said, unknowingly parroting Mattias.

“I can’t just sit here. Not while the weather is like this,” Sander said, straightening his shoulders. “Let’s transfer the gas. I want to get going as soon as possible. I’ll restock my pack while you’re fueling, Leander.”

“Seriously, Sander, you need to listen to reason. I know you need to get home, I know. If I could magically teleport you there, I would. But going off by yourself is madness,” Leander said, frowning.

“I know this terrain better than anyone. The closer I get to the coastline, the safer I’ll be. Once I reach the docks, it’s a matter of crossing the channel to the island,” Sander said.

“I have to insist I go with you,” Leander said. “Even if you do make it to the docks, what if you run into someone like Alder’s son-in-law? Someone who fought against your side in the war? You can’t watch what’s ahead of you and behind you at the same time. You’re leaving yourself wide open for attack.”

“That may be true, but I can’t linger here, not when Chey needs me. There’s no telling what’s happened at Kallaster. She could have had the baby by now. What if there are problems?” The more Sander talked about it, the more agitated he became. His own injuries paled in comparison to the agony of not knowing whether his family was all right.

“It wasn’t all that long ago that you collapsed with fever,” Mattias said. “You’re upright and talking, but how do you really feel? You’ve been shot and had an accident on top of everything else.”

“I’m fine.” Sander infused just enough steel into his words to pause any further protest from Mattias or Leander. He still felt like he’d been dragged fifty miles across rugged terrain by a hundred wild horses, but none of it mattered in the face of his increasing urgency to return to Kallaster.

Mattias and Leander stared hard, both men obviously wanting to say more.

Sander met Mattias’s eyes first, then Leander’s. “Let’s redo my pack and siphon gas from one snowmobile to the other. I plan to leave within the hour.”