Page 12 of Embers in the Snow

Sweet, little bird. A harbinger of the coming daylight.

Have you saved me?

To my astonishment, the monster doesn’t attack my carriage again.

I hear footsteps on snow; so soft I could be imagining them.

Then, there’s silence, punctuated only by smatterings of birdsong and the faint rush of the wind.

I don’t know how long I remain under the blankets, tensed and listening for any trace of the monster-wolves.

A crow caws. The birdsong grows louder.

The cold isn’t as bad as before.

The musk-smell of the wolves is gone, replaced with the metallic tang of blood.

At last, I summon the courage to emerge from the blankets.

I look outside, peering through blood-flecked glass.

Through the skeletal branches, dawn is breaking, painting the sky a delicate shade of lavender.

Why it look so beautiful when there are bodies strewn all across the ground?

4

CORVAN

In the early hours of the morning, I walk down the corridors in silence, enjoying the peace and quiet of my own castle; this ancient, roughly-hewn stone fortress.

Edinvar,it is called.

In the Old Language, it meansImmovable Heart.

I enjoy being able to walk freely, without being stared at furtively; without being abjectly feared.

The servants are just beginning to rouse. Today is the day they get to sleep in late, because on this day, I demand nothing of them but that they rest and enjoy the day at their leisure.

It isSeinmas,the Seventh Day, when the seventh Fury, Hecoa, The Goddess of the Dead, supposedly created her Underworld and drew all the malevolent spirits into it, curing the world of its ills.

What a load of horseshit that turned out to be.

I’mstill here, aren’t I?

Ill-fated spirit I may be, but I’m no tyrant.

Let the people rest.

I’m not one to demand that they dress me or prepare me meals. The Furies know… I don’t needthosekinds of meals anymore.

As for the other things…

I can draw my own bath.

Keep my own chambers neat.

Shave my own chin.

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