By the time the trio of trucks approached the shoreline, Sander’s anxiousness to reach Kallaster peaked. Staring out the windshield, one knee bouncing restlessly, he picked out the silhouette of the island in the near distance.

They were so close.

In the spaces between clouds, Sander watched the lighter gray of twilight overtake the darkness of night. As if Mother Nature had decided she wasn’t done playing tricks on the population of Latvala, the breaks in the cloud cover slowly pressed closed, leaving the landscape under the familiar obscuring dome. But no new snow fell, giving Sander hope that he’d been correct in thinking they were finally seeing a break in the cycle.

He turned his gaze next to the coastline and the docks extending into the water. Different sections of docks protruded into the sea, some reserved solely for commerce, others sanctioned for smaller, private vessels.

And then there were the docks set aside for travel to and from Pallan Island.

Sander, anxious to secure a barge, hopped out of the truck as soon as it stopped. Pulling on his gloves, he strode forward, casting a look over the anchored boats. Most were large, with enclosed deck-top areas to protect passengers from the weather. In spring and summer, most of these boats would be replaced with ones that offered more outside seating than inside.

To his shock, haggard faces appeared at the broad windows of one boat in particular. Women’s faces, men’s faces. Children’s. For a terrible second, he thought he was still suffering a fever or hallucinations. But the faces remained after he blinked away his confusion. Breaking into a jog, Sander switched direction, forgetting the barge for a moment. He heard doors open and close in the vehicles behind him, then booted feet following in his wake.

When he reached the vessel, Sander hopped aboard and carefully picked his way across the frozen deck toward the tinted glass doors. Finding the doors unlocked, Sander slid one open.

Dozens of people huddled together near the windows or on bench seats, sharing body warmth. Eyes peered warily at him from beneath hoods, the gazes strangely accusing. Or was that fear? Sander couldn’t tell, and didn’t understand what he was seeing. The silence, broken only by the light lap of water and ice against the vessel, would have unnerved lesser men.

Suddenly, three rows back, a woman pushed to her feet. Clutching a child against her side, she shouted, “Sander?”

He recognized the voice first, then the face that was half shadowed by the cowled hood. Before he could even take a step toward Wynn, Leander brushed past him at a run.

“Wynn!” Leander rushed to her side, gathering the woman and their son close.

“What the hell?” Mattias said behind Sander, taking in the scenario.

“I don’t know.” Sander strode forward, making eye contact with a few people. He estimated there were perhaps thirty souls on board.

The silence ended abruptly when a handful of people surrounded Sander, as if the reality of who he was had just set in. Perhaps they hadn’t recognized him with his mustache, beard, and gaunt face.

“Your Majesty! Does this mean help is on the way?”

“They kicked us out of the castle with nothing! Please tell us you have food,” a woman begged.

“What do you mean you were kicked out of the castle? Out of Kallaster?” Sander halted, and Mattias came to a stop beside him. The group of people pressed closer; everyone was now on their feet surrounding Sander and Mattias.

“Yes. More than a hundred of us. Even the children! They sent us out with nothing, only jackets and mittens. No food, no way to heat snow for drinking water,” someone else said.

Sander could not, would not, believe that Chey had sent innocents into the weather with nothing to sustain them. It wasn’t who she was as a person, not who he knew her to be. Exiling people into relentless snowstorms with no food was an act of cruelty, nothing less. Chey did not have a cruel bone in her body.

“I cannot believe Chey would do such a thing,” he said, bracing himself for whatever might come next.

“It wasn’t Chey!” Wynn said, approaching the gathered in the curl of Leander’s arm. Leander held their son in the other, a severe, unhappy look on his face. Wynn continued her explanation. “Helina and her guards showed up, and sent us away without Chey’s knowledge. Chey resisted the very thought of anyone leaving the castle, much less without supplies.”

Of all the things Sander had expected to hear, his stepmother’s name was not one of them. Helina? How the hell had she gotten to Kallaster Castle?

Why?

The uneasy feeling that settled in his stomach quickly turned sour.

“Wynn, Leander, with me. Everyone else, the men will see you fed from our supplies. Move one of the trucks onto a barge and let’s shove off for the island. Be sure to transfer food in case we find a bad situation at Kallaster.” Sander barked orders to everyone at once, sending people scurrying to do his bidding. As desperate as he was to learn all the details, he was even more desperate to reach the castle.

Grim-faced, he pivoted and exited the boat.

Standing in the doorway to the informal drawing room, Chey took stock of the changes. Days ago, the unusable furniture had been either pushed to the walls or taken out of the room completely. Mattresses littered the floor, piled with two blankets each, and all the firewood left in the castle—barring what was needed in the kitchens—had been stacked in holders near the fireplace. Flames cracked and hissed and two oil lamps burned on small tables at either end of the room. Once this room had housed so many survivors; now a bare minimum coveted the pallets closest to the flames. It was where she and the children would be spending their nights from now on to ensure their safety.

Emily and Erick played in a corner while Elias bustled around, passing out small cups of rice and boiled chicken. Chest puffed importantly, he brought Chey’s portion last, since she’d just arrived, and coaxed her to sit on a couch tucked against the wall.

“Thank you,” Chey said, taking the cup from Elias’s hands. She settled on the couch and forked up a bite while the food was still hot. Her gaze drifted to the stack of firewood, and she tried to estimate how much longer it would last. Several of the advisors had guessed two weeks, if used sparingly.

Chey countered with a month if they broke down bed frames, sanded off the finish, and used them as well. Most of the furniture in Kallaster was well-made solid wood. She wasn’t above hacking it to pieces if it meant they lived another day.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Elias asked, having retrieved his own portion of chicken and rice. He sat next to her, little face lined with concern. “You look sad.”

“I’m not sad, honey. I’m thinking,” she replied.

“Thinking about the firewood?” he asked, intuitive as ever.

“Yes.” Chey saw no reason to deny it.

“I know where we can get more,” he said.

Chey glanced at her son. “Where?”

“The hunting cabin. Papa takes me there sometimes.” Elias scooped a bite of food into his mouth.

“The guards checked all the houses near Kallaster when the storms first started. I’m pretty sure they would have taken any firewood they found,” Chey said, still staring curiously at Elias. She knew Sander took him on little adventures and expeditions, but she wondered if there might be a cabin she didn’t know about.

“This one is farther away from the castle. I mean, not too far,” he corrected, “but not close to the bailey walls either.”

The closest buildings near Kallaster were at least a mile and a half away over uneven terrain that made up the island. Residents did not crowd the castle on its high perch overlooking the ocean. The land on this side of Pallan was left natural, undisturbed.

“Can you take a guess how far?” Chey asked. She wasn’t sure it mattered; the severe weather had probably made lesser roads inland impassable.

Elias grew quiet as he ate, as if he was trying to figure distances in his head. Frowning, he said, “Probably ten miles.”

Chey looped an arm around Elias’s shoulders and hugged him tight. His reply was so adorably childlike she couldn’t resist. The cabin could be anywhere, but in his mind, trekking over rough terrain and crossing streams likely seemed much farther than it actually was. The whole of Pallan Island, Kallaster’s home, wasn’t ten miles long or wide. She finished the few bites of rice and chicken, then set the cup aside.

“You keep that in mind. When we get down to a few days of firewood left, we can talk about—” Chey paused at sudden shouts originating from somewhere near the foyer.

Elias was off like a shot, his cup left on the cushion.

“Elias!” Chey struggled to her feet, shoving up from the sofa. Who was shouting, and why? Had Urmas or the other guards escaped?

Startled by the commotion, a handful of councilmen suddenly rushed the door, creating a bottleneck into the hallway. One of the advisors picked up a brass candlestick on his way, gripping it like a weapon.

“Elias!” Exiting into the hall behind the group, Chey tried to part councilmen with her hands and a shoulder. She heard more shouting and some other ruckus she couldn’t name.

And her son was in the middle of it all.

Frantic to reach him, she came up against a hard body going the opposite direction to everyone else.

“Move!” she demanded, desperate to get around the guard.

“Chey.” The ragged voice could belong to no other.

Gasping in shock, Chey looked up into Sander’s face. He looked so entirely unlike himself, with protruding cheekbones, overgrown hair, and a full beard. She’d never seen his skin so pale, nor his eyes sunken with dark circles around them.

None of it mattered except that he was alive, and he was here.

Throwing herself into his arms, she hugged him tight.

“How are you? How is the baby? Emily, Erick? Are they all right?” The questions fell quick from Sander’s lips, arms holding her snug against him.

“You’re here.” Chey needed a moment to believe it. This wasn’t a dream. It was really Sander, his breath warm on her ear.

“I’m here,” he said.

Leaning back, Chey cupped his cheeks in her hands. “The baby’s fine. Emi—”

“What happened to you?” he asked, interrupting.

“What?” she said, confused.

“You’ve got a bruise on your head.” He thumbed at a spot near her hairline.

“It’s a long story. Emily and Erick are fine. I’m sure Elias already attacked you,” she said, throwing her arms around him again.

“He did. Now he’s attacking Mattias,” Sander said. Pulling back, he met her eyes again. “Are you sure you’re okay? That last message didn’t sound good.”

“I fainted, that’s all. And I was having some cramps, but they’re mostly gone now,” she replied.

“Mostly? Where’s the doctor? Where is Helina?” His voice grew harder, blue eyes narrowing into slits.

“He’s here. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” she insisted. Before Chey could say another word, Emily and Erick tore into the hallway, calling for their papa.

Sander released Chey to bend and scoop his children into his arms, rising to full height with their little bodies pressed against him. “Have you both been good for your mother?” he asked.

“We went on an adventure!” Emily announced. “The snow was so high outside the gate—”

“Outside the gate?”

“And we found the hidden door! Did you know there are a lot of tunnels in the castle, Papa?” Emily asked.

Sander shot Chey a specific glance. He didn’t look happy at all.

“It’s a long story,” Chey repeated. “Helina and Urmas are in holding.”

“Food first,” Sander replied, “then answers.”

“I can have Chef make you a cup of rice and chicken,” Chey said.

“We have some supplies. Not tons, but some. Somero sent them, and I hope they’re sending more,” he said, kissing each of his children before setting them back on the ground.

“Somero managed to get through?” Chey asked, surprised.

“The weather cleared for a while. It’s gloomy out there, but it’s not snowing. Hasn’t snowed in more than ten hours. I’ll explain all that later,” he said, drawing her into another tight hug.

“Thank God,” Chey whispered. Maybe, just maybe, the worst of the storms were over.

“Chey!” Wynn shouted.

“Wynn!” Chey kissed Sander’s cheek, then stepped away to intercept Wynn. “I was so worried about you!”

“We made it to the docks. Some people didn’t,” she whispered. “More than half the group left to go find food while the rest of us stayed on the boat. We were too afraid to leave the shelter at first.”

Pained to hear that they’d lost people along the way, Chey released Wynn from the hug but didn’t let go completely. “Everything’s going to be okay. Sander said they have a few supplies; that Somero was able to get through. That means, unless the storms start again, they’ll bring more soon.”

“Yes. We’re going to make it,” Wynn said, eyes shining with unshed tears.

Chey hugged her best friend again, so very glad she was alive. A glance over Wynn’s shoulder brought Leander and Mattias into view, both men’s arms filled with children. Elias was chattering on to his uncle about one thing or another, while Jeremiah hugged his father like he might never let go.

“Unload the supplies and send someone back to the mainland for more troops,” Sander said to his men. “If helicopters can get in the air, I want them running missions as soon as possible. We’ll coordinate with the military when the commanders arrive.”

Chey kissed Wynn’s cheek, then said to Sander, “What do you want me to do?”

He looked down at her with glittering blue eyes. “I want you off your feet. That’s an order.”