Chey wasted no time setting things into motion. Guards and volunteers restacked cords of wood in the smaller informal parlors and drawing rooms where the heat generated by roaring fires would have a more direct effect on the residents. Having people spread throughout the castle, igniting individual fires in the numerous bedrooms and suites, made no sense in the face of a blackout. If she was honest with herself, she probably should have done this from the moment everyone realized this wasn’t a normal winter. She needed to corral people into a limited number of rooms to maximize warmth.

And that’s what she did.

Those who complained were offered the same alternative as Burl: to take their chances outdoors in the blizzard. There wasn’t time to be politically correct or to coddle those who enjoyed causing trouble.

Rumors of Burl’s discontent went unheeded by Chey. She was too busy to engage in another confrontation. For now, all she could focus on was making sure everyone survived the night. Four trusted men guarded the storage room, protecting the food from potential thieves, while several aides packed cloth around windowsills and doorjambs to help keep the cold out of the newly dedicated sleeping rooms. Chey set a quartet of women to devise games and reading for the children, while still more castle staff gathered what extra blankets, oil lamps, and candles remained. In between the hectic schedule, she paused to have a word with the advisors, hoping for good news about the weather. The blizzard raged on, and the temperature continued to drop. The consensus for overnight temperatures ranged from minus sixty to minus seventy-five.

Not quite the news Chey wanted to hear. And there was still no word from the king, they said. No way to get through. The cell and satellite phones produced nothing but white noise. With the power out, no one had to tell Chey they needed to be cautious about how many times they attempted to contact Sander. It wouldn’t take long for the batteries to go dead.

Leaving the councilmen to their tasks, Chey sought Elias, Emily, and Erick. She found the youngest two in the care of Carita; Elias, of course, was off trailing the guards, ‘protecting’ the perimeter of the castle.

After spending an hour with her children, Chey retreated to the master suite for a quick wash up and change of clothing. She patted her cheeks with cool water from a basin and spent a moment rubbing the side of her belly. So far, she’d experienced no more pains or lightheadedness, and counted her blessings for that.

Her thoughts turned inevitably to Sander. To Mattias and Gunnar and Leander and the troupe that had set out to try and save lives. How were they doing? Had they succeeded in their mission? What adventures and pitfalls had they experienced? The unanswered questions gnawed at her insides. She missed the hell out of Sander, and would have given anything to see him again. Nothing would have pleased her more than to see the entire group walk through the front doors.

Dismissing the reverie and focusing on the task at hand, Chey turned from the basin.

After she chose warm slacks of wool, a long-sleeved sweater, and insulated boots, she returned downstairs and headed straight to the kitchen. Of all the beautiful spots in Kallaster Castle, the kitchen was one of Chey’s favorites. Rudimentary stone walls and beamed ceilings lent a medieval air to the work space. Chey didn’t think much had changed—barring the addition of modern appliances and stainless steel tables—since the middle ages.

Ignoring an overwhelming urge for a nap, Chey checked with the cooks to make sure they understood the new rationing portions and gently declined a small bowl of red beans and rice for herself. She wouldn’t eat more or less than anyone else.

Chey entered a back room off the kitchen and encountered Urmas conversing with two members of the staff. Beyond the trio of men stood two upright walk-in freezers with glass doors and three regular oversized refrigerators. A telltale hum of machinery informed her that the generators were still working.

“Your Highness,” the men said in unison.

“Good afternoon. Urmas, may I speak to you a moment?” Chey gestured for them to leave the refrigerator room. The labyrinthine layout of the kitchen and storerooms provided several shadowy niches to keep the conversation private.

“Yes, Your Highness?” Urmas said once they were alone. Despite the conditions surrounding the castle, he insisted on dressing in sharp suits every day and grooming himself as if he were about to step in front of a live camera. A short crop of salt and pepper hair—more salt than pepper these days—swept back from a lean face that usually wore one of two expressions: strict or severe.

“Two things. Where was Sander’s last known position? I’d also like to know if we’ve heard anything yet from the searchers who went out earlier. It’s been awhile and I’m worried.” Chey studied Urmas’s eyes. He was a master at hiding emotion.

“The last contact with Sander and the crew was weeks ago. They could be anywhere by now,” Urmas said, tucking his leather folder under an arm. “The search party is not back yet, the last I knew. It’s bad out there, Your Highness. I expect the team is taking extra precautions so they don’t get lost or injured. The second they return, someone will inform me and I’ll send for you directly.”

“Very good, thank you. I’d like for someone to keep trying to reach Sander. Every four hours,” she said.

“Same message? That you’d like him to come home?” Urmas’s gaze dropped to her stomach then lifted back to her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Is all well, Your Highness?” Urmas asked with a faint lift of one brow.

“As well as it can be. Let me know.” Chey nodded once and departed the kitchen before he could pry any deeper. Of all the people in the castle, Urmas was the one who would jump to the right conclusions. Sometimes it seemed as if he were an extra appendage, able to detect stress, anxiety, or pain. If the twinges returned—and they hadn’t so far—she expected him to know right away. The kind of man to stand on protocol, he would insist on bed rest and badger her until she confessed that she didn’t quite feel right.

When she entered the main level near the foyer, Chey swept an assessing glance over the milling throng of people gathered near the front doors. A flurry of movement and mild commotion drew her forward. A swift, ice-cold gust of wind wrought a gasp from the small crowd as two men entered, snow crusting their jackets, hoods, and pants. The pair appeared as if they were one step from freezing solid.

“Someone get blankets and new clothes!” Chey called, drawing attention to her presence. Onlookers were caught between the spectacle of the men and bowing to their queen.

Another pair of men entered behind the first, these in the recognizable attire of the king’s guard. Their dark navy coats were not quite as iced over as the previous men, but dusted in snow nevertheless. To her surprise, she saw that the guards carried someone between them. A survivor of the group that had perished beyond the gate. A woman, judging by the cut and royal blue color of the jacket.

Chey whirled around to accept a warm blanket from a stack delivered by one of the staff, and threaded her way to the guards as the doors whooshed closed on the blowing storm.

“Here. Let’s get that outer layer off and wrap her in this. Help those other men do the same.” Chey snapped the blanket out of its folds and approached the woman. She couldn’t see any features thanks to the severe drape of the hood. For a terrifying moment, Chey thought the survivor might not be a survivor after all.

Was she dead?

“Your Highness . . .”

One of the guards shot Chey a warning look that she didn’t immediately understand. She paused within arm’s reach of the stricken woman and raised a hand to push the hood back. If the woman was dead—well, it wouldn’t be the first time Chey had seen a deceased body.

The face that stared back at her was very much alive.

Despite the white skin, bluish lips, and sunken cheeks, Chey could never mistake Helina, former queen of Latvala.

A tense, awkward silence greeted Sander’s announcement. The sudden cessation of movement and conversation enhanced the sounds of the blizzard blowing against the sides of the truck, making the storm sound twice as fierce.

Leander switched a look back to Gaius and Joska, as did Mattias and, finally, Gunnar.

“I’m no traitor,” Gaius said, frowning as he flashed his gloved hands in a sign of surrender.

Joska shook his head in vehement denial.

“What makes you say so?” Mattias asked, returning his attention to Sander.

“Because there’s no way that all three of our tethers came loose by themselves. I thought at first that I must have missed when I attached the clasp to the truck, but all three of our ropes coming undone? I don’t think so. No, someone had to have unhooked them.” The longer he sat there, enduring the hot packs against his stomach and spine, the more Sander believed that one of the remaining guards, maybe both, were guilty of a crime. And it was a damn shame, he thought, because he’d trusted all four men with his life. Each had been with him a long time, men who had been vetted, had proved themselves in his own defense. Men who would, and had, risked their life to protect him.

“Your Majesty, I swear I didn’t have anything to do with the tethers,” Gaius said.

“There has to be another reason. Another explanation. I would rather chew my own arm off than bring harm to you,” Joska added.

“I’ll be right back.” Leander spun away and exited the vehicle.

Sander didn’t try to stop Leander from investigating. He knew the man would exhaust all leads and clues until either he found what evidence he needed or someone confessed.

“How are you feeling, Dare? Warmer? Better?” Gunnar asked. His troubled expression remained as he regarded his brother.

“I’m fine. I keep saying it.” Sander shifted against the side of the truck. In truth, he was exhausted and fighting to remain conscious.

“Are the heat packs helping? We can get a few Mylar blankets if you think that’ll accelerate the warming up,” Gunnar said.

“No, the packs are working well enough. I’m all right,” he repeated.

Leander returned several minutes later, sloughing snow from his coat as he climbed inside. He shoved back his hood and shook his hair out. “Impossibly, it’s getting colder out there. I think we’re in for the worst night we’ve had since the storms began. Gaius, Joska, gather what you need and head to the front of the truck.” Leander paused before adding, “Oh, and leave your weapons here.”

Sander knew that Leander wouldn’t discuss what he’d found, if anything, until the guards were out of earshot. He knew it, and the guards knew it, too. Gaius shot Joska an outright glare before gathering up an extra water canteen and a bag of jerky and nuts. Shedding two handguns and a hunting knife, Gaius didn’t linger, didn’t ask questions, simply departed for the cab.

Joska rubbed his hands on the thighs of his pants, didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, and gathered supplies. He, too, left his weapons on the floor next to Gaius’s. Mouth set in a firm line, he disembarked, closing the heavy door with a bang.

“What did you find?” Mattias asked Leander the second the guards were gone.

“Nothing much, unfortunately. The snow has already covered any tracks and evidence that might have been left behind. But the more I think about it, the more I agree with Sander. I think the tethers’ coming loose was deliberate. What I don’t understand is why.” Leander sank to the floor and stretched out his legs. He brushed more snow from his jacket then met each man’s eyes.

“Could be anything. Maybe one or both of them are disgruntled about being stranded. Or maybe they believe that because we’re stranded, it’s every man for himself. The food will only last so long, after all, and hunting for food in this weather is next to impossible. Joska and Gaius might be spooked into survival mode, which means taking out the competition. At the heart of it all, I suppose it’s basic human instinct to want to survive.” Sander couldn’t dredge up any sympathy for either man at the moment. They were all in the same boat, so to speak.

“It’s a tough situation. We can’t prove that someone unhooked the clasps, which means we can’t take action. If we question them separately, and both express innocence or cast blame onto the other, we’ll never know who’s lying. If both of them are guilty, they’ll insist they’re not, which still leaves us with no answers. What would we do anyway? Turn them both loose into the wild; let them fend for themselves in the storm? I doubt it. Which means keeping prisoners—again, not a great way to spend our time and energy out here,” Mattias said.

“Yeah. And if we struck out on our own and left them behind, I’d worry the whole time that one or the other—or both—would track us down and attack when we least expected it,” Leander said, sounding disgusted.

Sander listened to the conversation as his body adjusted to the heat packs. He did feel warmer on the inside. Less sluggish, more alert.

“Is it possible that they’re not guilty after all? Maybe the wind knocked the clasps loose,” Gunnar said.

“The clasps were closed, hooked tight. At least mine was. The way the tethers stretched back toward the truck from the guards’ bodies makes me believe that they had firmly attached their clasps, too. Someone unhooked them and the ropes dragged through the snow. Fighting against the wind and the pelting ice is more than enough distraction to keep a man from realizing that the slack in his rope is there for nefarious reasons. No, someone here is guilty,” Sander said.

“For now, we should hunker down and prepare to tough out the night. It’s colder than I can believe out there. Tomorrow, maybe the snow will let up and we can move on to the next farmhouse. For safety’s sake, I think we should consider Gaius and Joska guilty until proven otherwise. Watch our backs around them, but go on with our original plans. Without saying anything to them, of course. No need to put them more on alert than they already are,” Leander said.

“What if one of them tries something tonight?” Gunnar asked.

“Doubtful in this weather. Once darkness falls, no man in his right mind would willfully subject himself to the elements.” Mattias rose from his crouch and made his way to the crates. “We’ve got jerky, trail mix, and protein bars for dinner. Take your pick.”

“Throw me some trail mix. I’ll take the first shift tonight. I think we should keep an eye on the weather. If the temperature continues to plummet, we might have to take more extreme measures to keep warm,” Leander said.

“I can feel the cold seeping up through the floor of the truck,” Sander said. He stood up, holding the bottom of his coat closed to keep the heat packs in place. “Leander’s right. I think we should stay alert. Let’s make ourselves a pallet in the middle of the floor and have more heat packs and Mylar blankets nearby. We’re going to need them.”

Outside, the wind howled.