Page 15 of This Frozen Heart

“If it’s a cabin, it’s shelter, and it’s obviously dry enough for a fire.” A fire . . . Nothing has ever sounded so pleasant.

“It’s the Snow Queen’s cabin, th-though,” Gerta whispers. “There’s always a price with her.”

“Then I’ll pay it— come on.” I change trajectory and begin marching toward the smoke that gives me a clearer goal than my men’s unseen hideout. Especially since they are likely in fur tents and not a pleasant log cabin . . .

Despite Gerta’s protests, she doesn’t fight me. We stumble forward together. Every time she slips, I pull her up. And when I fall, she tugs at my arm until I’m standing.

Every step is agony accompanied by the hope that the pain will end before our lives do.

And then logs seem to stack together right in front of us. What seemed like a hike away is now a handbreadth from my face.

“The door!” Gerta cries, pointing.

We hurry toward it, and then she grabs my arm.

“Hand me my knife,” she gasps. “In case the Snow Queen or some other hostile is within.”

“You’re the only hostile I’m concerned about.” Brushing her hand away from where it’s sneaking toward my waist, I throw myself against the door.

It gives out immediately, and I stumble in, dragging Gerta behind me.

I catch myself before I collapse onto the wood boards and scan the area.

It’s a one-room cabin with no sigh of stairs going either up or down. The hearth in the center of the room is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. That is followed closely by the table set for two in the corner with steaming bowls of stew near the door. And then, finally, is the straw mattress laden with two blankets in the corner opposite the door. Cupboards bolted on the wall keep anything else from being on the floor.

Despite the homey setup, there is no one else in the cabin except Gerta and me.

“The legends are true,” Gerta whispers, staring at the chimney hole letting the smoke from the hearth billow out without allowing snow to filter in. She shrinks back toward the door. “Thisdoesbelong to the Snow Queen.”

“Yet it does not seem like the type of abode a snow queen would prefer.” I push the door closed, shutting out the blizzard. “Whomever this home belongs to, I will reimburse them for their hospitality. First, we must take immediate action to save our fingers and toes.”

Using the chain, I pull her closer to the fire with me. Then I slide off my ice-encrusted gloves and drop them. I’ll lay everything out to dry properly later. But my training that was required despite my native experience warned me that I am not safe from the cold’s influence just because I am no longer in the midst of a blizzard. My Bloodline Magic needs time to work— and Gerta doesn’t even have that.

“We should leave,” Gerta whispers even as she curls next to the fire.

“We most certainly shouldnot.” I numbly grope for the key and clumsily unlock my cuff. Then I peel off my coat, tunic, and shirt— all of which are completely soaked. It takes all my willpower not to take the rumpled garments and lay them out properly, but it’s not like wrinkles are a priority concern right now.

A clanging draws my attention to where Gerta has started crawling toward the door.

I step on cuff I just discarded. “You’ll die out there.”

“Death is better than imprisonment!”

“At least try to escape when you have achanceof survival. Why not have both life and freedom? Use logic, lassie.”

Gerta turns to me in surprise.

“It’s a toss-up whether your men or mine will find us first,” I offer, grabbing hold of the chain and dragging her back toward me. “And even without either group, this is still your territory. Once the blizzard passes, you have a better chance of escaping me than I would of pursuing you.”

Her mouth parts in surprise.

I kneel on the ground and then pull her completely into my lap.

“Wh-what are you doing?!”

“Exactly what you want.” I insert the key into her cuff’s lock and find myself even clumsier than before.

The moment she’s free, Gerta jumps off my lap. But she doesn’t immediately run for the door. I’m not sure she has the strength to, even if she has the courage.

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