Taptaptap.

Chey shifted and turned, pressing into layers of warm softness. Drifting, she sank back into the darkness of sleep.

Taptaptap.

The insistent noise wouldn’t allow her to fully submerge. Yawning, she rubbed an eye with a knuckle and pried her lashes open. Chey had been draped with a leopard print blanket gifted by Wynn, so she peeled the downy cover away from her torso and tried to focus on waking up. A few moments of confusion reigned. Touching the curve of the chaise lounge with her fingers, Chey realized she must have fallen asleep sometime during their conversation.

Taptaptap.

“What is that noise?” Coming fully awake, Chey swung her legs to the floor and unwound the blanket from her thighs. Dim gray light suffused the master suite, indicating that night had come and gone. She noticed the familiar sheet of white beyond the window panes, though she couldn’t yet tell if snow was still falling or if a thick bank of fog had moved in. With the fire having burned to embers, the chamber felt as cold as a crypt.

What a depressing thought.

Stifling a yawn, she glanced through the room, expecting to see Wynn crashed out on the other lounger or one of the plush, push-back chairs.

All the chairs were empty. Maybe Wynn had decided to sleep in the enormous bed with the children.

Taptaptap. More insistent this time.

Someone was at the bedroom door. Had Wynn locked herself out?

“Coming, hold on.” Chey listened for the children as she padded across the floor. Usually, all three of her children and Wynn’s son, Jeremiah, were creating a cacophony of noise by now. Maybe they were all still asleep.

When she opened the door, Chey came face-to-face with one of the regular housemaids, Carita. The young woman, perhaps nineteen or so, fidgeted with the cuff of her dove-gray coat. Hair carefully swooped back into a bun, Carita dipped Chey a curtsy.

“Your Highness, I thought you might like a cup of hot cider and breakfast,” Carita said. She gestured to a waiting trolley topped with a single mug and a covered plate of food.

Something about the entire setup seemed wrong. Seemed . . . too normal. As if they were at a five-star hotel on vacation instead of suffering the worst winter of their life. Alarm bells started clanging in Chey’s head. What time was it? Where were Wynn and the kids?

“Wynn? Elias?” Chey called. She swung away from the door and hurried through the extensive sub-rooms of the suite, calling for her best friend and her oldest son.

No Wynn, no children.

By the time she returned to the main area, Carita had wheeled the trolley inside near a chair.

“Where are Wynn and the children?” Chey asked, approaching her desk rather than the trolley.

“Ingel has the children downstairs, Your Highness. Wynn, I . . . do not know.” Carita busily arranged the contents of breakfast. There wasn’t much to arrange. It appeared to Chey that Carita was keeping her hands busy to avoid eye contact or more conversation. That was strange. Unusual.

It seemed as out of place as everything else.

Sudden panic seized Chey’s chest when a stray, horrific thought struck. She walk-jogged into the hallway and turned toward the stairs, one hand supporting her stomach. It was gloomier here where the candlelight did not reach. Enough light spilled in through the windows in the castle walls to guide her steps, although Chey could have navigated these hallways blind if she’d had to.

“Your Highness, let me help you,” Carita said, rushing up from behind.

“When did they leave? Don’t lie to me. When did the others go?” Chey descended as fast as she dared, clinging to the banister in case she lost her balance and fell.

“Early, Your Highness. Hours ago.” Carita held onto Chey’s elbow and braced another hand at her back, as if attempting to stabilize Chey’s headlong rush.

“Oh my God. No.” Anger surged hot and hard through Chey’s system. The advisors had ordered what amounted to a preemptive strike: they’d forced the citizens out before Chey could protest their leaving.

Why, why had she slept so long? Why hadn’t she heard Wynn leave? Chey couldn’t believe that Wynn didn’t wake her. Not to say goodbye, not to inform her that the advisors were pulling a nasty trick.

And maybe the advisors tricked Wynn, too. Chey could easily see someone summoning her friend to the main level then forcing her to go with everyone else.

There were no guards waiting near the entrance to the stairway, no guards lurking in the halls. The strange silence of the castle unnerved Chey as she reached the last stair and headed for the foyer. Where once a dull roar of conversation bounced off Kallaster’s walls, now there was nothing. No chirp of children’s laughter, no arguments, no complaints.

The silence was deafening. Chey understood that old saying better than she ever had. She found it terrifying.

It didn’t take her long to find the remaining residents. A group stood near the front doors with guards flanking the entrance. Several prominent advisors—the majority voters, Chey noted—hovered near Helina as if enraptured by whatever it was she was saying. The former queen, leaning upon a gnarled cane borrowed from somewhere, spoke too quietly for her words to carry.

Abruptly, the advisors and Helina glanced toward Chey.

Torn between a hundred emotions, Chey advanced on the quaint little gathering.

“Before you say anything, you should know a thing or two,” Falk said to Chey. “We gave two of the guards shovels to clear as much snow from the road as possible, giving the people a better chance to reach the docks. When the guards tire out, volunteers can take over. With any luck, the lot of them will be on a boat for the mainland before nightfall.”

Meeting and holding Helina’s eyes, Chey ignored Falk as she drew up before Sander’s stepmother. “I see you’ve wasted no time attempting a takeover. I’m also sure you had some input about the others leaving this morning, especially before I was awake to stop it. Let me tell you right now, Helina—I won’t tolerate this.”

“Why, whatever do you mean, my dear? I had nothing to do with any of this, although I fully support your advisors’ decision. Of course I do, since their objective is to protect the royal line. It should be your objective, too,” Helina said.

Chey heard Helina’s words, but the woman’s expression and the gleam in her eyes said something entirely different. The former queen was as responsible for the exodus as the advisors. The underhanded tactic had Helina’s name written all over it.

“I don’t know who let you out,” Chey retorted, as if Helina were a dog that had escaped its kennel, “but you’re not allowed to influence what happens in this castle. In this kingdom, for that matter. You lost that privilege when you tried to have me murdered and when your husband died.” She held a hand up when Falk attempted to interrupt, effectively silencing his protest. “Furthermore, I consider your actions treasonous to the Crown, which means you’ll be held separately until Sander returns and passes down judgment. Consider yourself my prisoner.”

“Your Highness, that is most unreasonable—”

“You don’t have the authority to make that kind of declaration!”

“Prisoner? Preposterous!”

Chey ignored the outrage spewing from the mouths of the ‘majority’ advisors. Mutiny was afoot and, if she wasn’t careful, she might find herself on the wrong side of the proverbial control switch. With the deterioration of the weather came the deterioration of morals and diplomacy. Chey suspected real fear for survival had gripped a good portion of the council members and that they were acting more for their own benefit than that of the royal lineage. By pretending to protect Elias and the other heirs, the advisors had a crutch to fall back on to save their own skins.

Societal breakdown was upon them, advancing quickly toward a state of total anarchy.

The triumphant gleam in Helina’s eyes faded to blatant dislike. A twitch in her upper lip added to the overall sense of loathing she directed at Chey. “As the advisor said, I do not believe you have the authority to make such a decision.”

“Let’s put it to the test, shall we?” Chey turned toward Raune and the rest of her security team. The men, along with the remaining council members and other staff, had gathered nearby to observe the power struggle. Chey appealed to her personal guard specifically. She was not unaware that the remaining security hovered near the doorway. This request would definitely draw a line in the sand about who she could and could not trust in the castle. “Escort Helina to the second informal parlor on this floor and keep her there.”

Several councilmen glanced at the castle security, as if uncertain whether to have them intervene.

“Aye. We also back her decision.” Five advisors stepped forward to Chey’s side in a show of strength and solidarity.

Raune did not hesitate; he and his cadre surrounded Helina and herded her out of the foyer. No man touched Helina directly, but they crowded close enough to make the former queen uncomfortable, which in turn prompted her to move.

“Falk. Take care of this,” Helina snapped.

“Councilman Falk has no say in this matter,” Chey informed Helina. Tension stretched to a breaking point. Heated whispers erupted among the councilmen. Chey wasn’t sure what she would do if the castle security attempted to intervene with her personal guard. Things could get out of hand. Quickly.

Just before the cadre reached the entrance to the hallway, Elias appeared from another corridor and ran through the foyer toward Helina. He looked adorably disheveled, with his brownish-blond hair half in a ponytail.

Stricken by the sight of her son running to Helina, Chey froze in place. Elias—all her children—had never had anything to do with the former queen.

“Granmama!” Elias shouted.

Raune and the guards came to an abrupt halt as Helina stopped and turned to face her grandson. A sly, curving smile crossed Helina’s face.

“Elias, my boy. Granmama is very glad to see you.” Helina opened her arms. Elias ran to her for a hug.

Chey checked her immediate, knee-jerk reaction to snap at her son and tell him to get away from that wicked woman. Likewise, she wanted to rip into Helina for compromising the careful shield she’d built around her offspring. Chey and Sander had not demonized Helina and Aksel in front of the children, preferring to simply tell the kids that their grandparents were not around any longer. Her children had no reason to be wary of Helina, and Chey wondered now if shielding the truth from them had been the wisest decision.

Helina wrapped Elias in her arms and pulled him snug against her body. “I was just retiring for some quiet time in the informal living room. How about you get your card game and meet me there?”

Chey stiffened and took a step forward. “Actually, Elias, I have a few things for you to do instead. Raune was about to send a patrol around the castle. You should go and help.”

Proving he was attuned to Chey’s moods and disposition, Raune dismissed two of his cadre with a simple tilt of his head. The men stepped away, looking back to Elias expectantly.

Elias’s eyes lit up; he would much rather perform what he considered to be grown-up duties, and Chey knew it.

“Sorry, Granmama. I have work to do,” Elias said importantly. He squared his little shoulders and looked Helina right in the eye. “Perhaps later we can have a card game.”

Helina straightened and smiled, though it was not as welcoming as that she’d worn in the beginning. “Of course. Off with you, then.”

Elias broke away from the elderly woman and ran to the waiting guards. He glanced back once to flash a brilliant smile at his mother.

Chey nodded to encourage him onward, her heart aching at how much Elias reminded her of Sander. It was a fleeting moment of poignancy before her ire returned full force.

Ire she turned on Helina.

Chey marched forward and, once she was within a foot of her mother-in-law, said, “Do not ever come between my son and me again. I’ve made it clear you’re not to have any interaction with the children. Yet, somehow, you’ve got Elias calling you Granmama. Did you disobey my orders before or after you came down to ‘see the citizens off’ this morning?”

Helina’s eyes narrowed to slits. “It bothers you greatly to know that I still have sway in your household, does it not? In fact, were I to take a head count, I am positive that I would hold the loyalty of the staff. Tread with care, Your Highness, or you may find yourself treated as you’ve treated me in the near future.”

“I think it is you who should take care, Helina, before I have my guards toss you out on your backside. You may have the majority vote of the advisors, but I control the warriors. If you so much as look Elias’s way again, you and your guard will be shown the door. I think it’s only fair that you get sent off with the same supplies as the others—which amounts to exactly nothing.” Chey didn’t give Helina a chance to argue. She pivoted away as Raune stepped in. “Lock her in this time,” Chey said.

Leaving a circle of advisors staring in her wake, Chey ascended the stairs as fast as she dared. The vantage point from a certain third floor balcony might afford her a view of the citizens making their way through the pass toward the docks. All she could think about were the hundreds of people slogging through knee-deep snow, bundled against the cold, trying to reach salvation.

Wynn’s face flickered through her mind as she hurried down a hallway and through a tall archway. What must her friend be thinking? Feeling? How was Jeremiah faring the ordeal? Chey shuddered when she considered the small children sent on the trek. Poor babies, they were helpless to have a say in the outcome.

Out of breath, one hand again supporting the side of her belly, Chey navigated several antique pieces of furniture and tugged the curtains back from a pair of balcony doors. The long line of travelers should be easy to pick out among the stark white landscape.

Not only could she not see the distant road or the people, she couldn’t even see the end of the balcony.

Snow blew sideways, whipping dervishes across the stone facade of the castle.

“Dear God,” Chey whispered. Her worst fears were realized.

The citizens had been sent into a whiteout.

“It’s just me!” Leander shouted, blocking Sander’s fist with a forearm.

Sander barely heard him over the storm. He eased his posture when he saw Leander’s face peering out from under the hood of his coat. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Making sure no one else surprises you out here. And also making sure you don’t pass out,” Leander said.

“I’m not going to pass out.” Sander wanted to ask Leander if he’d seen Joska and Turo inside near the firewood but now wasn’t the time. He was growing colder by the second. “I’ll be right back.” Leaving Leander to stand guard, he entered the outhouse, relieved to temporarily be out of the weather.

A few minutes later he exited and traded spots with Leander, playing lookout until Leander emerged with a creak of the door. Following the tether through the snow, Sander stepped into the porch and flipped the hood of his jacket back. Joska and Turo were nowhere to be seen.

“Hey. Mattias asked Valder about the snowmobiles before I followed you outside. Valder said they do have several in the barn, but they’ve been out of gas for months,” Leander said.

Sander paused before entering the farmhouse itself and considered the news about the snowmobiles. Mattias had been right about one thing: even if they could get the snowmobiles running, there was no way they could drive in this weather. The chances of riding over a cliff or sinking into a large hole were too great.

Getting lost, too, was a definite possibility.

He stared past Leander’s head toward the screen door, watching the snow come down sideways. Fever burned hot and steady under his skin, making him sweat beneath the coat while at the same time sending shivers down his spine. He didn’t want to admit that he was in no condition to travel. Exposing himself to such bitter cold for an extended time wouldn’t be good for his fever or his body. Yet the sense of urgency to return to Kallaster was overwhelming; he had to get home.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Leander said in a low voice as he drew his coat off and shook it out, “and I understand. I really do. But you won’t do Chey or your unborn child any good if you’re dead, you know? You have to rest, Sander. You have to let yourself heal before we attempt something as crazy as riding snowmobiles across the hinterlands.”

Sander shucked his coat, pellets of ice and flakes of snow falling to the porch floor. He met Leander’s eyes. “If something happens to either Chey or my kids, I’ll be dead anyway. This is what I want you to do. Check all the vehicles on the property for gas. See if you can siphon enough for two snowmobiles to get back to the supply truck. We have gas there and can refuel before we head out for the nearest town.”

“Just two? If we double up, that still leaves Gaius and Joska without a way to return with us.”

“Exactly. I don’t have enough proof that Joska is plotting against me, so we have to leave both men behind. Even if Joska and Gaius weren’t guilty of anything, I’d still leave them here if I had to.” Sander set a hand on Leander’s shoulder. “See to it before dinner, hmm?”

Leander nodded and opened the door to the farmhouse. “Consider it done.”