Chey dreamed of frightening, frozen landscapes. She dreamed of bodies littering the ground, of blue faces with iced-over, staring eyes. The hinterlands were nothing but a giant tundra where nothing lived, nothing moved. Winter refused to give up its relentless grip on the land, marching its way closer to Kallaster with each passing minute.

She dreamed that a new blizzard struck the castle, frigid fingers of death stealing beneath the doors, across the stone floors, to sleeping occupants who could not escape. It came for her last, spreading up the stairs and down the hallways to the master suite. The walls cracked and the air grew impossible to breathe.

Winter reached the edge of the bed, crawling up the berry-colored coverlet and onto the sheets.

Startling awake, Chey kicked her legs against the creeping cold. She realized quickly that she’d woken from a nightmare, one of many this long winter, and awkwardly reached down past her pregnant belly to rub a palm along her shin. With the fire out, the master suite felt as chilled as the inside of a freezer. It had permeated her clothing and, since she’d fallen asleep atop the covers rather than beneath them, she was exposed to the elements. The children were asleep beneath the layers beside her, with Carita bundled in a blanket in a nearby chair.

Unsure how long she’d been asleep, Chey eased from the overlarge bed and glanced out the windows. Darkness lurked beyond the panes, indicating nightfall. She couldn’t see well enough to tell whether a blizzard still raged outside or if the storm had calmed for now. She removed the thick jacket and exchanged it for two layers of warm blankets that covered more of her body than the coat did. Bringing the coat with her, she woke Carita and gave instruction to let the children sleep. They were safe and warm enough under the covers of the bed. When they stirred, she asked Carita to bring them downstairs.

Exiting the suite, Chey used Elias’s flashlight to guide her to the stairs and down them. Remembering the tumble she’d taken earlier, Chey took extra special care not to trip again.

She found the advisors deep in conversation in the conference room, a single candle providing light to see by. The advisors turned as one to see her in the doorway, their discussion brought to a halt.

“Your Highness—”

“Let’s disperse with formalities, please,” Chey said quietly, turning off the flashlight. “This isn’t the time or the place. We have more important things to figure out, so let’s jump right in.”

She approached the table. Despite her willingness to set titles aside, the advisors stood, and only settled in their chairs once she was seated. Chey paid little attention to the haphazard blankets, cloaks, and layers the men wore to fight off the chill. They did what they had to, like her, to keep warm.

“We have much to discuss and decide,” one of the councilmen said.

“I know. We’ll take it one thing at a time.” Chey set down the flashlight and folded her arms on the table.

“I think we should start with the former queen and Urmas’s betrayal,” another replied.

“And I think we need to reassess the supplies. Figure out how long we have with the new shift in numbers and portions. Urmas and Helina will receive the bare minimum to survive. And by that, I don’t mean starvation,” Chey said. That’ll come soon enough for all of us. “But they will not have as much as the rest of us. And we’re down another man.”

“Perhaps we should talk about what to do if the king does not return,” a different councilman said.

Chey leveled a hard look his way. “That’s not even up for discussion right now. He will return.”

Contemplative silence reigned in the conference room.

Chey understood that more than one advisor thought Sander was dead.

He’s not dead. With refreshed determination, Chey turned the subject back to supplies.

Sander suspected Leander and Mattias of sabotaging his mission. First they couldn’t find the trail mix or the jerky, then the extra canteen went missing. Leander had trouble siphoning gas from one snowmobile to the other.

“What’s the hold up? You could suck yellow out of a daffodil if you had to. I know you can get that gas out,” Sander said impatiently to Leander.

“I’m working on it, old man. Keep your pants on.” Leander didn’t look up from his task.

“Here. These are all the bandages I could find.” Mattias tucked two more packets into the pack hanging on Sander’s shoulder.

“My leg is fine. I’m fine. Except for the fact that you two are stalling.” Sander glared accusingly at Mattias and then the back of Leander’s head. He leaned a shoulder against the front porch post while he waited, more than ready to be on the road. The weather was still clear, the moon shining down upon the landscape. Sander felt the press of time like a gear winding up his insides; if he didn’t get going soon, this perfect window of opportunity might close.

“Did you take the next dose of antibiotics and ibuprofen for the fever?” Leander asked from where he knelt next to a snowmobile.

Silence was Sander’s reply.

“Did you?” Mattias asked.

“Look, both of you. Just get the damn machine—” Sander’s caustic reply cut off midsentence. Frowning, he straightened and glanced toward the road beyond the long drive leading into the farm.

“What is it?” Leander stood immediately.

Mattias tensed, on alert, and followed Sander’s glance.

“I thought I heard something,” Sander said.

“Animal, human, what?” Leander asked.

“Not sure. If you’d quit talking, maybe we could all hear it.” Irritated at yet another delay, Sander fell to silence again. Whatever had caught his attention seemed distant, a low rumble that he suddenly decided must be far-off thunder.

Leander was right. This was the calm before the storm.

Dammit.

“Hurry up, Leander. Looks like another system is moving in. I need to put as much distance between—” Sander paused again when Mattias set a staying hand on his arm. He glanced at his brother, who stared intently across the snowy landscape.

“Headlights!” Mattias said, pointing.

Sander snapped a look back to the road. Impossibly, the dark shape of lumbering vehicles, headlights shining through the trees, came into view.

Leander pulled the gun and held it down at his side. In a voice edged with hope, he said, “Maybe you should go inside, Sander, until we figure out who this is.”

“It’s the military. There are three, look. Three vehicles roughly the same size and shape.” Throwing down the pack, Sander let loose a sharp whistle and charged down the stairs. He forced his aching body into an awkward run through the snow, arms waving, doing everything in his power to gain the attention of the lead driver. If the vehicles drove by, there was no telling when they would see them again. In his haste, he didn’t consider attempting to mount a snowmobile. Leander had the gas caps off and a tube dangling from one tank. Sander didn’t want to waste a second, though he would utilize the snowmobiles if the procession passed them by.

“Hey!” he shouted.

Mattias and Leander added their own shouts and whistles.

They needn’t have bothered. The vehicles turned down the farmer’s drive and lumbered toward the house. Mounted with snow plows, the big trucks moved piles of white stuff to the side as they went.

Relief flooded Sander’s chest. Incredibly, help had arrived.

Half blinded by the headlights, Sander stepped to the side as the first truck drew even. The driver slowed to a stop and buzzed down the window. Sander easily recognized the royal blue and silver of Latvala’s military uniforms.

“We’re looking for—Your Majesty, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you,” the driver said, snapping a smart salute. Although he looked worse for wear, with hollow cheeks and circles under his eyes, the driver was in better shape than Sander.

“How much fuel and food do you have?” Sander asked, cutting out greetings to get to the heart of the matter. “We need to leave something for the family, then we’re turning around to head to Kallaster. Is there any word from the castle?”

Leander appeared at the passenger’s now rolled down window. Hands hooked over the sill, he said, “How did you find us?”

Mattias jogged past to the second truck in line.

The driver and passenger glanced between Sander and Leander, popping out answers as quickly as possible.

“Somero sent three supply helicopters four days ago. They timed their travel according to the weather, landing when they couldn’t fly and waiting for breaks to go again. They brought food, water, first aid. We’ve got some in the back,” the driver said.

“We haven’t heard anything from Kallaster yet,” said the passenger. “Once we got the supplies, we started out to find you. At first, we followed your trail the hard way—asking people you’d stopped to help. Then we got a bead on the beacon and have been tracking that when it pops up on radar.”

“But the beacon’s broken,” Leander said.

“Apparently not, sir. Not right now,” the passenger said. He pointed to a rudimentary handheld device with a single light blipping on the screen. “It’s sending out a signal— that’s how we knew you were here. It wasn’t always working.”

Leander broke away from the truck and ran back toward the snowmobiles.

“Have your men leave three weeks’ worth of food here for the farmer and his family, then we’re turning around,” Sander said. “Is Somero sending more aid? What did they say?”

“Somero said they’re sending aid in waves, as the weather permits. They’ve had a break in the storms and planned their strategy accordingly,” the driver said.

Two men in uniform trudged past with three bags of rations in their arms, headed for the porch. Mattias must have given nearly the same order, Sander thought.

Leander returned moments later, the beacon caught between his hands. “A wire must have been knocked loose. Maybe the crash jarred it into place.”

“I thought you left that thing back at the truck,” Sander said, stepping away from the driver’s door.

“No. I had it with us the whole time. I tried to fix it while we were at Valder’s farm, but never did see the light come on,” Leander said.

Sander took note of the green light now glowing on the beacon’s console. “Either way, they’re here and we’re leaving within five minutes. Gather what we need.”

The passenger hopped out of the truck as Sander rounded the hood. Without having to be told, the man headed to the second vehicle in line and climbed into the back.

After claiming the passenger’s seat, Sander yanked off his gloves and put his hands close to the heat rolling out of the vents. “As soon as Leander and Mattias are secure, turn around and head straight to the docks.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”