Page 5

His smile slips.

It's only for a heartbeat, but I see it. The irritation underneath. The cold, hard little thing that lives behind all that charm, the part of him that doesn't care about me at all. The part that just wants to win.

That's why I've always said no. That's exactly why.

Over his shoulder, a man is leading a horse out of the stables. I let my eyes go wide and look past Silas, like I've just spotted someone important.

"Is that your father?"

Silas turns his head.

I twist my arm free and walk away. Fast, but not so fast that it looks like I'm fleeing, because a woman fleeing from Lord Silas Brusteen is the kind of thing people gossip about.

"Elara!" he calls after me. "I'll come by and see you later!"

I don't look back.

The moment I turn the corner and the stables disappear behind the cooper's shop, I pick up my skirts and run.

My boots skid on the icy cobblestones. My basket bangs against my hip. My lungs burn, and the heat is still rolling through me in waves, but I don't stop. I can't stop.

Because he's going to come by later. And by then, he'll know.

The baker's wife will tell the elders. The elders will tell Silas. And once Silas finds out I'm in heat, there's no talking my way out of anything. He'll have the elders behind him and the whole village cheering him on, and every one of them will think he's doing me a favor.

I have to be gone before anyone can make arrangements. That's my only chance.

Beyond the mountain pass, there's another village. An old friend lives there, someone I'd trust with my life, and the elders here have no authority over anyone on the other side of those mountains. I'll be safe there until this is over. I know I will.

It's a hard walk. I'm not stupid enough to pretend it isn't. But I know the route, and if I leave right now, I can make it.

I have to make it.

My cottage comes into view at the end of the lane, small and familiar and safe, and I've never been so happy to see it. As I run toward it, I glance up at the mountains looming over the village.

The snow is still falling lightly. Pretty. Harmless.

But above the peaks, dark clouds are starting to gather.

Please, I think at the sky. Just give me one calm day. One day to get over the pass.

That's all I need.

2

Elara

Half a day. That's how long I've been climbing, and somewhere in that half a day, this stopped being a hard walk and turned into something else entirely.

When I left the village, the snow was still the pretty kind. The kind that sits on your eyelashes and makes you feel like a girl in a story. I'd marched up the trail with my bag on my shoulder and my chin in the air, feeling very clever about the whole thing. I'd be at my friend's door by nightfall. I'd have a hot bowl of something in my hands. Silas could knock on my cottage door all he liked and talk to the empty rooms.

That was the plan.

The mountains had other ideas.

Now the wind screams down the pass. Snow comes at me from every direction, so thick I can barely see my own hand in front of my face. Every step, my boots sink into the snow, and every step, I have to drag them back out again.

"You're fine," I tell myself through chattering teeth. "This is fine. You've walked through worse."