I came to on a pallet. The first thing I felt was sharp hay poking into my side. The next, a scratchy blanket covering me. My clothes were still on—a good sign. I wasn’t paralyzed anymore, but I forced myself to stay still. In the past, I’d learned that it was better to play dumb until I knew what was going on. Keeping my eyes closed, I strained to hear every sound I could.

The wind. I could hear the wind howling. It echoed, like it was outside blowing past an entrance. A building high on a mountain? A cave? The air felt thin, too—and that would back up my guess that we were at a higher elevation.

Shivering, I realized that I was cold, even beneath the blanket. The chill was icy, far colder than it had been in my backyard. In fact, the scent of the air . . .

Oh no.

I knew where I was—at least the general region. I was somewhere in the Northlands. There was no mistaking that icy haze that hung in the air, filled with magic and the energy of the ice and mists. Hell. Hyto had meant it when he said he was going to carry me off.

I listened for any movement but couldn’t sense anyone else near me, so I slowly opened my eyes and looked around. Cavern. I was in a cave, near a fire that burned brightly. I scooted over to it and rubbed my hands in the heat, then warmed my face near the flames, trying to avoid the stray sparks.

After a moment, I noticed a pot of liquid hanging over it and I found myself incredibly thirsty, but I knew better than to taste it without knowing what it was. For all I knew, it could be a death potion. Gingerly, I stood, pulling the scratchy blanket around my shoulders for warmth. My body hurt, and my head was foggy. I realized that we’d come through the Ionyc Seas. Hyto would be able to travel through them because he was a white dragon.

A ring of stones had been sheltering me from a larger part of the cavern and I hesitantly stepped beyond them, moving into the shadow near the cavern walls. Maybe I could get away. Maybe I’d luck out and there’d be an inn nearby? But I couldn’t stay if there was one. Hyto would figure it out and burn the place to the ground. No, I had to manage to grab supplies and run. Run . . . where . . . ?

You’ve been in the Northlands one time, with Iris. And that was this past week. You have no clue as to where you are . . . at least not yet.

Irritated with my own logic, longing to run willy-nilly out of the cave, to put distance between myself and the freak-ass pervert waiting somewhere around here to pick his teeth with my rib bones, I crept through the shadows over to the mouth of the cave and peeked out.

Fuck. Just fuck me hard now.

Outside the entrance, a narrow ledge covered in ice and snow wound down the mountain. Narrow, as in so thin I’d be lucky not to topple over the edge the minute I tried to make a run for it. And we were at high altitude. I could see the peaks of other mountains.

I gazed over the panorama spreading out before me. If I weren’t being held captive, it would be beautiful—a swath of white that linked glacier to glacier to . . . glacier . . . Wait a minute. Could it be? I squinted. In the far distance, I saw something against the side of the mountain that looked vaguely familiar.

Could that be the Skirts of Hel? We’d been there with Iris. Granted, if it was, it was still at least a day down the mountain, and then a good stretch of harsh walking from here. And no doubt, the path would be fraught with crevasses and avalanche danger. But if it was the glacial ice field, it was the one glimmer of hope I could cling to. Because near the Skirts of Hel Howl, the Great Winter Wolf Spirit, made his home. And he was an Elemental Lord. He could go up against a dragon, being one of the true Immortals.

A noise made me jump. Someone was coming. I hurried back to the fire, managing to lie back down before they entered the room. I had positioned myself so that I could see who it was through slitted eyes.

Hyto. Hell and double hell. From what he’d said, I had the feeling he was planning on leaving me alive until Smoky got here, but what shape I’d be in was up for debate. I wondered whether it would be best to continue playing asleep or prepare myself in advance in case he decided to kick me or something. I wouldn’t put it past him. In the end, I chose to roll up into a squatting crouch from which I could either run or jump away.

He swept in, eyeing me with an impassive expression. It would have been hard to place his age, though if he were human I’d put him in his late forties. But he was lean and towering, like Smoky, and as much as I didn’t want to, I could see a resemblance in the facial structure. There, the similarities ended.

His gaze never leaving my face, he slowly strolled over in my direction. The arrogant smirk on his lips would have been frightening enough, but the look in his eyes was as frozen as the ice. No mercy. No compassion.

I slowly stood, backing away as he entered the ring of stones and kept walking toward me. I wanted to say something, but what was there to say? Please rethink this? You’re going to die? Oh yes, that would work on a dragon.

He stopped about a foot away from me, and his gaze traveled from my feet up my body, lingering over my hips and my breasts. The ice in his eyes melted just a little, replaced by a fiery lust.

Worse, far worse than the cold, aloof look.

“Still not going to beg for your life? Still not going to beg my indulgence? You are too insolent for a mortal—be you half-Fae or not.” And he reached out with a tendril of hair. I thought he was going to use it to caress me again, but instead it coiled back like a serpent and then struck, slashing my cheek.

The sting of the blow caught me off guard and I gasped, bringing my hand to my face. A warm trickle of blood oiled my fingers and I began to shake. I took a step backward, but he caught my wrist with the same strands.

“Say it. Beg me for your life. I will not ask again.” His eyes spun now, a whirl of mist and fog, and I could see the dragon rising behind him in his aura, so huge, so ancient that he’d probably watched mountains be born and die. He meant every word he said, and I didn’t want to find out so soon just how far his temper could be pushed.

My knees began to give and I stuttered, “Please . . . please spare me.” Ashamed, angry I’d given in so soon, I hung my head as my words came out in a whisper. But the blood on my cheek was running freely, and the man towering over me could splinter me like an axe splintering kindling.

“There, was that so hard?” He reached out with one hand and lifted my chin. “You will learn your manners, Mistress Camille. You will learn your place in my society. You will learn what it means to truly serve a dragon.”

And then he pushed me away and I went sprawling to the floor. I didn’t move—I didn’t want to set him off again.

“I will have a woman come and prepare you. You are not properly attired to sit in my presence. You will do as she says.” He turned and began to walk away. Over his shoulder, he added, “Oh, Camille? If you’re thinking of trying to escape, I give you this one warning: If you succeed, I will return to your house and destroy every single inch of your property. I will raze it to the ground. I will rape your sisters and that irksome sprite you keep around. And then, I will eat them.”

And with that, he vanished back into the depths of the cavern.

I waited until he left, then scrambled to my feet. What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t escape—not without help or supplies. And if I did . . . would he truly carry through on his threats?

That is not the question, my gut echoed back at me. You know he’ll carry through. The question is, will they be able to stop him before he manages to destroy everything in sight?

I huddled near the fire, waiting, until another set of footsteps warned me someone else was coming. It was a woman, as Hyto had said, and right away I could tell she was no dragon. She was one of the Northmen, from the looks of her. Sturdy build, with long, stringy, flaxen hair and muscles that told me she wouldn’t put up with any shit from anybody. Which meant that unless I could take her out with a spell, I wouldn’t be fighting my way past her.

She motioned for me to follow her, and, silently, I did.

We headed deeper into the cavern, and the persistent howl of the wind railed around us. The cave was so large and spacious that I could easily see Hyto changing form here. The walls were spare and worn smooth, and the supporting stalagmites and stalactites had grown up thick over the centuries. This cave had withstood time, and it felt old and hollow and deep.

I cleared my throat and eyed the woman. “May I speak?” I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her fists, either.

But she just nodded, seeming to understand me. I’d spoken in a variant of the Northern tongues—roughly, I wasn’t that proficient, but I knew enough to get by. It would be useless to ask where we were, so I sucked in a deep breath and asked, “What are you going to do with me?”

“Prepare you for the Master. You are not dressed appropriately. I will bathe you and dress you and feed you.” As she spoke, her face remained unchanging, but I caught a glimmer of pity in her eyes.

Hanging my head, turning on my glamour full force, I nodded slowly. “I did not choose to come here. He kidnapped me.”

“No one chooses to attend him. At least none of the women.” Her words were abrupt but clear.

“Why are you here, then? Why are you helping him?”

She stopped, turning to me. “I will tell you this once. Remember it. He has my son held captive. I help him to keep my son alive. Which means I will do anything he asks. Never forget that. I won’t go out of my way to help the Master, but neither will I do anything to jeopardize my child. Do you understand?”

“Yeah . . . I understand.” And I did. She was protecting her child; she would do what she had to. Hyto had a way with people, all right. He knew just what buttons to push.

“Good. Follow me and keep quiet.”

We passed through several long chambers, each as vacant as the last. Either Hyto didn’t share Smoky’s love of fine living or all of his goodies were in his private chambers. Either way, the cavern was cold and barren and rough, and right now all I longed for was my bed at home and a soft cover and my loves by my side. I missed my husbands and sisters so much that I felt nauseated. But I kept my wits about me and tried to push fear to the back. I needed to remember the layout. If I had to hide, I needed to know where I could vanish.

We entered a smaller chamber to the left. Finally, here were living quarters—at least for mortals. Several beds were scattered around the chamber—I counted twelve—and a steaming pool of water sat in the middle of the room. A natural hot spring? Not likely. More likely melted snow heated by the huge fire burning in the fire pit. The room was still cold, but without the intense chill of the outer chambers, especially when the woman drew a curtain across the entrance.

“Sit and let me clean the wound on your face.” She pushed me toward a narrow stone bench. I sat, fingering the raised gash that Hyto’s hair had inflicted on me. It felt warm, and I wondered if dragon hair could cause an infection. I sucked in a deep breath as I heard a rattling coming from the far end of the chamber.

“What’s that?” I jumped up, looking around.

“My son. Sit down.” She pushed me back down and I slowly lowered myself onto the bench again. I squinted through the dim light of the lanterns scattered around the room. As my eyes adjusted, I finally saw it: a cage fashioned of iron and leather. It was situated a good six feet off the floor—hanging by straps from the ceiling of the cave—and was about the size of a linen closet turned on end.

Inside crouched a wild-eyed young man of around fifteen. He had long golden hair but it was matted into dreads, and so dirty it looked black. Shirtless, he wore a rough pair of trousers held up by a cord tied around his waist. He looked like he was wearing a mesh top, but as I squinted further, I realized the lines I thought were mesh were actually a grid pattern of welts. He’d been beaten, in patterns, enough to leave permanent scars.

Visions of Menolly’s torture crept into my mind as I looked at the boy.

Hyto. It had to be Hyto. He would have no compunction about hurting a mortal—Northman or not. Child or not.

I looked up at the woman, who was watching me. “What’s your name? What’s his name? Did Hyto . . .”

“My name is Hanna. My son’s name is Kjell. And yes, the Master punishes my son for my mistakes.” Her lip twitched and she blinked, quickly, but I still saw her push back the tears.

“He threatened to kill the rest of your family, didn’t he?” I didn’t have to ask. I knew what kind of creature Hyto was. He would use every form of mental and physical torture in the book, and the threat of destroying family was a good way to make someone obey.

Hanna gently washed the wound on my cheek, then ran a thin line of some salve along it. “He killed my husband. I was able to smuggle my daughters away before he got hold of them. But he caught Kjell and me when we were trying to run.” Another line of salve and she stood back. “There. Now remove your clothes. Don’t even think about protesting. You must have a bath. The Master likes his . . . toys . . . to be clean.”

Toys . . . and there it was. I swallowed hard.

“What about your son? He’ll see me.”

“He’s locked in a cage. He’s . . . Seeing a naked woman is the least of his worries. Obey.”

I began to remove my skirt and the turtleneck, turning away from the cage. The strange boy rattled at the door, making guttural cries, but Hanna ignored him and I did the same. There was nothing else I could do but obey. If I struck down Hanna—and my ability to do so was a big if—I’d have no hope of escaping. I needed her. I needed to win her help, and to do that, we had to save her son, too.

As I stepped into the steaming pool, she poured a fragrant oil into the water. The scent was heavy, spice and amber and honey—much like the perfumes I used—and the warm heat of the water began to relax my muscles. I leaned back, as much as I didn’t want to enjoy the feel of the water. I was tired. So tired. And the fear and cold had wormed its way through me.