Sander kicked snow away from the mouth of the tent and, after buzzing open the zipper, stepped outside. Straightening to full height, he panned a look at their surroundings. Although the sky was still a brooding iron gray, the snow had stopped. He gauged visibility to be perhaps two miles, an enormous advantage they’d lacked since departing the farmhouse.

Eerie and unnaturally silent, the white landscape nonetheless provided clues to their whereabouts. Sander recognized a specific rock formation to the west.

Leander tossed supplies out the door of the tent, then began breaking down the tent itself. “No snow, that’s a good start,” he said.

“I know where we are,” Sander replied.

Leander forgot the tent and stood straight. “You do?”

“Yes. You’re not that far off track, actually. I’m impressed.” Sander glanced aside, meeting Leander’s eyes.

“Don’t be too impressed. I’m sure it was more luck than anything else,” Leander said, looking away to the terrain.

“Now all we have to worry about is whether we have enough gas to get us to the next farmhouse.” Sander helped Leander break down the tent and load everything back onto the sled. Today, Sander felt better. A little stronger. Knowing they weren’t completely lost in the middle of nowhere helped kick his determination up another notch.

“How far is it?” Leander asked, throwing a leg over the snowmobile.

“About eighty miles, give or take,” Sander replied.

“We’ve got an extra person and the sled, and a little less than half a tank.” Leander sounded like he was doing math in his head.

“It’ll get us close,” Sander said. “As long as we don’t hit another storm and go off course again.”

“Close is good enough for me.” Leander started the engine.

Sander climbed onto the back and secured the goggles into place after tying down his hood. “Let’s go. The road is to your left, about three quarters of a mile. It’ll be easier to follow.”

“Got it.” Leander navigated the snowmobile over the snowy ground, picking up speed.

One mile fell away, then another. Sander grew anxious and restless, anticipating reaching the next farm where he hoped they could gas up and keep going. The dark silhouette of the forest rose in the distance, appearing out of the fog although mist hung close around the heavy boughs and treetops. Relieved to have another landscape marker in sight, he guided Leander generally along the road which cut directly through the forest.

“I remember this,” Leander said, turning his head enough to be heard.

“The pass through the trees is about a quarter mile long,” Sander replied.

Leander drove straight into the gloomy space between each side of the forest, retaining a moderate speed.

A blur of motion entered Sander’s periphery on the left. Before he could shout a warning or even react, the snowmobile swerved hard to the right. Sander somehow managed to stay seated. A flicker of caramel-colored fur and antlers whipped by in the moment before the snowmobile struck a tree. Then he was flying, ass over chin, landing with a thump and a whoosh of air from his lungs. One leg struck a tree trunk. The rest of his body impacted the gnarled knuckles of exposed roots and forest debris.

Staring up through snow laden boughs, Sander wheezed for breath. A litany of curses marched through his mind, none of them ever making it off his tongue. It took him longer than he expected to vocalize any words.

“Leander! Are you okay?” Sander groaned as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. His voice echoed through the trees. The scrawny, skeletal deer that had caused the accident was long gone.

Scooting a few feet along the ground to bring the snowmobile into better view, Sander checked himself for injuries. Nothing seemed to be broken. His chest hurt like hell, and the thigh that didn’t have a bullet wound would probably have a bruise from hip to knee, but all his limbs were in working order.

He couldn’t say the same for the snowmobile. One of the skis had buckled and the front looked as if Thor had taken his hammer to it.

A string of expletives from around a broad tree trunk drew Sander in that direction. After angling painfully to his feet, he reached the tree and held on while he circled around.

“Leander. What’s broken? Anything?” Almost afraid of what he might see, Sander looked down. Leander lay on his side, clutching his ribs. Like Sander, his goggles had managed to come through the wreck intact.

Small mercy.

“Not broken. Except for the damned snowmobile. How is that deer even alive? He’s got a million acres to roam and he decides to cross right in front of us!” Exasperated and angry, Leander accepted Sander’s hand and got to his feet.

“It was probably disoriented and startled by the engine. Ran the wrong direction when it panicked,” Sander said. “Either that, or Fate is having a grand time messing with our heads.”

Leander brushed twigs and leaves and snow from his clothing, muttering the whole time.

Sander coughed once then went to inspect the damage to the snowmobile after tipping it onto its runners. Five tries elicited no response from the engine. Even if the engine had turned over, the machine wasn’t in any shape to drive.

“We’ll have to pack what’s most important and carry it,” Sander said. Either way, no matter what, something crucial would have to be left behind.

Fifteen minutes into navigating the underground tunnel system, Chey experienced a sharp ache in her belly. Pausing with one hand braced against the cold stone wall, she drew in several deep breaths and willed the pain away.

“Momma, are you okay?” Emily asked.

“I’m fine, love. I just need a minute,” Chey replied.

Elias stopped and swung the small beam of light back. “There’s a place to sit down up here, Mom.”

“Thank you, Elias. I think we should keep going. This is a good time to talk about where we think Raune may be held.” If Raune was still alive. “We’re going to need his help.”

“I know where Raune is. There’s a guard standing outside the white sitting room,” Elias said.

Who else would the guard be watching than Raune? It made the most sense. If not Raune, then another of the guard loyal to Raune’s cause. The white sitting room Elias spoke of was on the third level of the castle, positioned smack in the middle of a long hallway. Any guard stationed outside would see her coming before she ever reached the room itself.

She needed a distraction. Something to draw the guard away from the hallway.

“All right. Let’s go. Elias, do you know if any of the hidden passageways exit into a room close to Raune?” Chey asked. Pushing away from the wall, she herded the children onward. Slowly, so the ache in her stomach didn’t get worse.

Elias led the way, the small flashlight beam bouncing back and forth through the tunnel. “Three rooms down across the hall.”

Three rooms down. That still meant she would have to navigate a decent section of hallway. If she could draw the guard off for at least five minutes, Chey thought she could free Raune.

Ten minutes and two short flights of steps later, Elias came to a halt. Standing on a landing where two tunnels forked in different directions, he shone his flashlight to the side, providing illumination without blinding anyone.

“Mom,” Elias said in his most serious tone, “I know what to do. You go into a room around the corner from the guard and scream. Maybe scream ‘fire!’ Or break a vase. You can hide in the hidden passageway so the guard doesn’t find you. I’ll run out of the room closest to Raune and open the door.”

Out of breath and battling another bout of pain in her midsection, Chey leaned against the wall and regarded Elias with no small amount of alarm. Pride, too, but mostly alarm. He was far too young to put himself at risk—for her to allow him to.

“That’s a noble gesture, Elias. A smart move. Except I think there’s a better way. You stay with your sister and brother while I take care of Raune, all right?” she said.

“It’s too dangerous for you. Your stomach hurts, which means you can’t fight or run. But I can. I can run faster than the guard. And I’ll get Raune out of the room, I promise.” Elias straightened his shoulders.

Chey’s smile trembled at the corners. “That’s an astute observation, Elias. About my belly. It’s only because I fell earlier, so I’m sore. I can still move fast if I have to.”

Elias arched a brow, obviously dubious.

Suppressing a laugh, Chey said, “Your plan is a good one, don’t think it’s not. I just need you all to stay hidden so I can concentrate without worrying about you.”

“I think my plan is better, Mom. Papa wouldn’t let you go—he’d send me instead,” Elias countered.

Let her go. Elias was too young to understand the dynamics of her and Sander’s relationship, nor the fact that Chey did what she damn well pleased. Sander might have not wanted her to go, and argued his point aggressively, but he wouldn’t have stooped to using such superior language. He didn’t let her do anything. He did coerce, cajole, argue, and debate, however, and Sander was a master at it. In time, Elias would learn the finer points of verbal sparring.

“Your father would understand that the risk to you is too great. There are nefarious deeds afoot, Elias, and if they caught you, I’m not sure what they would do. I can’t take the chance, do you understand?” Chey said. While trying not to belittle his bravery, she also wanted to remind him that grown-ups were far more experienced than he was.

“But if the guard catches you, they’ll know me and Emily and Erick are here, and come searching. I can’t leave Emily and Erick to rescue you—they’re too little. We need to work as a team,” Elias said.

“I’m not too little!” Emily put her fists on her hips.

“Okay, okay. No arguing,” Chey said, putting an end to the sibling discussion before it could get out of hand. Perhaps Elias was more his father’s son than she realized. He’d made a good point, but the thought of having him race to free Raune while she distracted the guard made her blood run cold. She did not trust Helina, or what the old bat might do if she caught Elias in the act.

At what point did she acknowledge that she couldn’t do it all by herself? Not in this condition. She could not sprint, nor squeeze into small hiding spaces if the need arose. Fighting full force was out of the question, especially after the fall.

“Mom?” Elias asked.

“All right. Let’s do it, Elias. I want you to promise that if you get into trouble, you’ll run. Run and hide, find your way to the tunnels to safety,” Chey said. It was the only way she could reconcile herself to the situation. She needed assurance that Elias would not try to do more than he was capable of.

“I will, Mom. I promise. This way,” he said, turning to begin walking through the tunnels. He chose the tunnel to the right. “You go into the ugly library and create the distraction, and I’ll go to the room closest to Raune’s. Once I see the guard go by, I’ll set Raune free.”

Although Elias knew the names of the rooms—formal parlor, informal sitting room, the queen’s garden—he had his own descriptors and used them often. When the boy was only four, he’d declared that the ancient-looking floor-to-ceiling bookcases in the small library were ‘ugly’, and he’d called it that ever since. Chey placed the library in her mind: it was around the corner from Raune’s supposed holding place and three doors down the hall. It would take the guard out of the corridor while Elias made his move.

Chey considered all the ways she might provide distraction as they climbed another set of stairs and followed the labyrinthine passageway. Once or twice, Elias brushed cobwebs out of the way.

He turned to Chey when they came to a halt before an old door decorated with iron bands. “This is the ugly library,” he whispered. “I’ll take Emily and Erick to the maid’s storage supply and leave them there. No one visits that place anymore. They’ll be safe. I’ll go on to the other room and wait.”

Splitting off from her children under these circumstances threatened to send Chey into an anxiety attack. Any number of things could go wrong, all resulting in recapture by Helina’s guards. These were her children, mere babes who shouldn’t have to fend for themselves.

Laying a hand over her heart, Chey talked herself down from the edge of panic. She knew she couldn’t do this by herself, not without great risk, which made it just as dangerous as splitting up.

“I can do it, Mom,” Elias said, as if he could read her mind.

“I know. I—all right. I’ll wait ten minutes, then I’ll go into the library and make a ruckus,” Chey said.

“I’m going to give Emily the flashlight, so they’re not scared,” Elias whispered.

“I’m not scared,” Emily retorted.

Chey wanted to smile at her daughter proving small, tight spaces were not as private as Elias hoped.

“Okay. I’ll see you all in a few minutes.” Chey hugged each child tight and kissed their cheeks. Elias only put up a small show of indignation.

As their little bodies retreated into the darkness, Chey drew a deep breath.

Steady.

This would work.

It had to.