I tried my best to keep track of time as the hours passed. We couldn’t move, encased up to our necks in Dhaxanian ice that refused to melt, and further sequestered in a cylindrical meranium cage with swamp witch symbols carved into its bars.

We’d come to the Athelathan Mountains, hoping that we’d find Dhaxanians still living here. Judging by the permanent snowstorm swallowing the mountain peaks, it had made sense that they’d still be around. We’d hoped we’d manage to sway them into helping us and our new allies, the Adlets. When the time came to rescue the swamp witch, we needed all the help we could get, and having creatures who had the power of deadly frost at their fingertips on our side made sense.

It hadn’t really come as an absolute surprise, but it had still made my stomach drop when Nevis, the prince of Dhaxanians, revealed that he’d reached a truce with the daemons. His people got these two mountains, while the daemons got everything else. According to him, it was in the best interests of the Dhaxanians.

Unfortunately, that also meant that we’d ventured into enemy territory, and didn’t get a chance to escape. Nevis captured us and cast us to the bottom of the mountain, in the middle of an underground crossroads—a meeting point between four tunnels, each leading into a daemon city on the continent. It was only a matter of time before they came for us.

For the first few hours, I tried everything in my power to free myself. We all did. Patrik, poor soul, had his mouth covered in frost, too. He could breathe through his nose, but he couldn’t utter a single spell to get us out of here.

A day passed, and we became more and more aware of how close the end was. We’d tried shouting, hoping the Dhaxanians would hear us, and that Nevis would come down to talk to us. Nothing happened. Hundurr dozed off in hour-long sessions, every six hours, to preserve some energy, I assumed. Patrik caught a couple of hours of sleep, too. There wasn’t much else we could do.

The Dhaxanian ice was cold, but it wasn’t going to kill us. Heron and Patrik were warm-blooded and found it more uncomfortable than Scarlett and I did, but there was no risk of frostbite, surprisingly. It was meant to hold us, along with the meranium cage, until the daemons arrived to take us back to Infernis. I could only imagine how excited King Shaytan must’ve been. It was safe to assume that he’d received the “good news” by now, and that his fiends were on their way to Athelathan.

A thousand scenarios crossed my mind, and none ended with us winning this. We’d made it this far, though, and I refused to let myself surrender. Whenever I looked at Heron, my heart swelled, and I knew he felt the same way. We were just getting started with one another. We’d fallen in love, and there wasn’t a single daemon or Exiled Mara on this wretched planet who could tear us apart. Most importantly, our friends, our families, and the innocent people of Neraka needed us now more than ever.

I gradually became aware of the fact that, if we wanted to win this, we needed a different approach. Brute force and magic were of no use in this situation.

“Guys, how are you holding up?” I asked, after an hour of gloomy silence.

Scarlett let out a long, tortured sigh. “Still here. Still pissed off.”

“Good. We need that energy. Patrik, Hundurr?” I replied, glancing at the Druid and the sulking pit wolf.

Patrik couldn’t speak, given his frosty gag, but the look in his steely blue eyes, combined with the raised eyebrow, told me everything I needed to know. He still had a lot of fight in him. Hundurr growled, letting me know that he, too, was still with us.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I’m doing?” Heron replied with a smirk.

“I have zero doubts regarding your morale, babe,” I shot back, pursing my lips. “You spent years in Azazel’s dungeon. I doubt a day in Dhaxanian ice will cripple your spirit.”

“You know me so well,” he chuckled.

I knew how he was feeling. Deep down, the thought of imprisonment scared the daylights out of him. But he’d been to hell and back during Azazel’s regime, and he’d also promised he’d take me on a real date once we got out of this place. His jade eyes told me that he was going to burn this whole place down, if that’s what it took for him to keep his promise. A day in Dhaxanian frost was nothing compared to decades in a cage. Despair wasn’t something that Heron wanted to feel ever again. He’d made that clear long before we got to Athelathan.

“This can’t possibly end here,” Scarlett muttered.

“Right with you there, Cuz,” I replied. “We need to get these frosty bastards to listen to us. From what I can smell, and from the silence oozing from all four tunnels, the daemons are nowhere near at this point. That might change in an hour, but, dammit, I would prefer to spend every minute we have left calling out to the Dhaxanians, rather than sulking and waiting for Shaytan’s fiends to come get us.”

“We have to get Nevis down here. But what can we offer him?” Heron said. “Our plan to get the swamp witch out and to get GASP here didn’t seem to entice him at all.”

“I think we need to be a little more persuasive,” I muttered. “It’s in his interest to help us. With or without us, Jax and the others will get the swamp witch back. And, once the shield comes down and we reach out to our people, it’s game over for Neraka. Nevis won’t be treated kindly if GASP learns he carted us off to the daemons.”

“No, Avril, you need to be more persuasive,” Scarlett scoffed. “The prince of Dhaxanians definitely has the hots for you. Pardon the icy pun.”

Heron’s forehead smoothed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “What in the blazes are you talking about, Bullet?” He addressed her by her GASP nickname. He only did that when he was irritated. That made me love him more.

“What?” Scarlett replied. “Might as well use that as an advantage, since it’s there,” she said, then looked at me. “Avril, I’m serious. I know the look I saw on his face. He’s got a soft spot for you. He won’t listen to us. Call out to him. Tell him you want to make a deal.”

“We’ve been shouting our lungs out for hours. No one has come down,” Heron murmured.

“It needs to be Avril. Just her,” Scarlett told him. “It’s worth a shot, I think. What else can we do right now?”

“So, what, I’m just supposed to stand here, literally frozen, and watch my girl walk off into the snowstorm with the prince of Dhaxanians?” Heron scoffed.

A couple of seconds passed. Scarlett narrowed her eyes at him, slowly shaking her head. “You know, for someone who’s pretty much next in line for the Mara Lordship back on Calliope, you’re not too bright.”

Heron blinked several times, and I stifled a laugh. I needed the humor.

“You’re not making much sense, Scarlett,” Heron said.

“Think logically, dude,” she replied. “Jax and Hansa are clearly an item. He’s a Mara, and she’s a succubus. He can’t drink her blood because it’s toxic to him. As much as they love each other, what do you think are the odds that they could have children? Biologically speaking, the baby would be half Mara, at least, in a succubus womb. She wouldn’t be able to carry the pregnancy to term. Their best bet is adoption, and, from what I know, Mara laws clearly state that Lordship is only transferrable along the original bloodline, or if there is a challenger supported by more than thirty percent of White City’s population. Are you with me on this?”

“Oh. Damn. I didn’t realize,” Heron breathed, his eyes wide with shock.

In all fairness, until we got to Neraka, all we had was a “maybe” on Hansa and Jax, since they’d been blocking each other out like brokenhearted teenagers. The odds were now in Heron’s favor, as Jax’s younger brother. The Lord of Maras was going to one day retire, and he needed a bloodline successor. Heron was the only one. So, my boyfriend will one day be Lord of Maras.

“That’s normal. Jax and Hansa were not an item when we first got here,” Scarlett replied. “Anyway, back to my previous point. I wasn’t suggesting that Avril ask Nevis to marry her or anything. That’s absurd.”

“No, I get what you’re saying, and I agree,” I interjected. “I need to cozy up to the guy.”

Scarlett nodded, while Heron frowned and exhaled.

“Just be careful what you promise him,” he muttered, prompting me to chuckle. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are, but let me tell you something else you need to set your mind on, rather than uselessly worrying about the prince of Dhaxanians and me,” I replied. “If we get out of this mountain alive, you can forget about that old-school dating plan you’ve been making. Clearly, our lives are too unpredictable at this point to leave… certain matters for later. First chance I get, I’m taking it.”

For the first time, I could see Heron blushing. His cheeks flared red, and his clouded gaze found mine. Scarlett, and even Patrik, despite his frosted mouth, chuckled, while I gave Heron a satisfied grin. “I’m serious,” I added.

Heron was speechless—for good reason, too. I’d even surprised myself with that statement, but I’d meant every word. We’d started the day yesterday riling each other up and talking about going slow with our relationship, taking it nice and easy, with dates, dinners, and walks on the beach. We were now trapped in Dhaxanian frost, waiting for daemons to come get us.

As sweet as those plans sounded, our tumultuous lifestyles on Neraka were never going to allow us such simple joys. We had to live through every day like it was our last and resume our more normal lives once we got back to Calliope. So, yes. As soon as Heron and I had a chance to be alone, I was determined not to let a single minute go to waste, and to be with the Mara I’d fallen in love with.