Page 26 of Midwinter Night's Prince

Her grip wasn’t tight. Blair felt that the choice to remain, to let her perform her magic, was entirely on her. She could let go if she wanted to. The goddess wouldn’t force her.

Blair took the coldness without question—knowing the goddess wouldn’t give her anything close to an answer.

She was testing her. Requiring of her what gods had required of humans since the beginning of time.

Faith.

Blair wasn’t entirely certain this goddess was on her side. Something told her she wasn’t working against her, and that was good enough.

The coldness reached her inside, settling in her chest. In her heart. Then the goddess smirked, letting go.

“Will you tell me what you just did to me?” Blair asked.

The goddess tilted her head. “When you find the boy, make him face his fears. There’s no other way.”

Again, she was talking in riddles, and most definitely not answering her. “Thought as much,” she muttered.

Blair frowned as she saw a strange glint over her skin. She lifted her hand to the dimming light, and saw the glint formed moving shapes and shadows, animated markings along her hand and arm, and against her chest.

Would those ever go away?

At least the marks were pretty—elegant filigrees that reminded her of thorns.

“How do I find Seth?” she asked, hoping for at least one helpful answer.

No words came, and when Blair tore her gaze from her skin to look at the goddess, she was gone.

In her stead rested a snowy feather on the ground, marked with gray spots.

Not unlike the feathers of the owl she’d seen in the woods.

Blair stepped back, fear gripping her bones.

She wasn’t about to ignore her instincts. Not here.

She turned to the woods, and started to run.

15

THE ENDLESS WOODS

Seth wasn’t a screamer. Screaming was pointless, undignified, and rather failed to make a point. He much preferred whispering threats.

He screamed nonetheless, unleashing his power again and again, scorching tree after tree in his path.

The gods were uniquely qualified to make mortals go insane. The lot of them were various shades of mad, after spending too many centuries with only their own company.

He was trapped. Trapped whichever way he went. He might explore new parts of the woods and hope to finally spy a sliver of light in the distance, only to always end up back at the same spot.

Only the best of torturers realized there was no true despair without hope.

“I give up!” he yelled, sitting where he stood. What was the fucking point? His captor would let him go when they were good and ready to do so, and not a moment before.

“Well, that’s not much like the Seth I know.”

He leaped to his feet and spun around in the same move, eyes on the thing behind him.

It looked like Blair. All five foot five of her. Her clothes were torn and muddy, her lower lip, cut at a corner. It smelled like Blair. Iron, spice, and sweetness under layers of salty sweat. For all that, it was a good bet that the thing wasn’t Blair at all. Seth could feel divine spells at word before his eyes.

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