Page 24 of Fortress of Blood and Power

“Well, I assume you’re hungry,” Garrick said, a half-smile on his face. “I don’t think the little salted meat we have left will sustain us much longer.” He shrugged, seizing his bow and quiver from where he’d hung them on a hook on the wall near the door. “Besides, you’re secure here.”

“The wards will hold even when you’re gone?”

“Did you think I had anything to do with them?” The wolf shifter’s laughter came out forced, his gold eyes dim with sadness he couldn’t quite conceal. “I don’t have such magical abilities. They hold with or without my influence, Starlight. They were placed generations ago, to secure all who would stay here. As long as you bolt the door, only those you welcome will be permitted to enter.”

I nodded, concealing the way uneasiness slithered along my skin in spite of Garrick’s reassurances. I couldn’t forget the dullahan and the way it had imitated his voice.

As if reading my thoughts, Garrick added, “Don’t let anyone in—no matterwhatyou hear—unless I can tell you exactly where we met and the first thing you said to me.”

“I’m afraid we have not been introduced,” I recited with a grin.

Garrick dipped his head. “I’ll return as soon as I can. Bolt the door behind me.”

As soon as I’d slid the lock into place, I returned to the fireside, pulling off my boots. No part of me wanted to climb into the bed to warm myself, not when it was set against the wall, near a window. Instead I found a tunic and a pair of leggings in a chest and changed into the fresh, dry clothes, folding the men’s pants and rolling the hems to fit my body.

Curling up in a fur blanket before the fire, I clung to my hunting knife. My mind ran wildly through the moments leading up to the avalanche I’d unleashed, wracking me with guilt and tension despite the knowledge that the men who’d hunted us wouldn’t have hesitated to kill Garrick. I didn’t regret what my magic had done, not when it had saved him, but that didn’t ease my guilt, the sobering knowledge that I’d taken lives. And that I had the power to take more.

If my magic was strongest during winter in the Silverfrost kingdom and was connected to my emotions and thoughts, I feared I’d never gain control of it. My quiet actions and calm demeanor back home had always been a front to mask my churning pain and intense feelings. From grief to fear of the future to the pain of never being wanted, never fitting in, and the constant ache of loneliness, I had always been a storm on the inside.

The avalanche had felt like a natural extension of the wildness within, as deadly to myself as it had been to others. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised by that either. Endangering my own life with my magic seemed fitting, like the old, silent gods’ way of amusing themselves with my pain. How ironic that the power others had always feared had not only truly been a part of me, but also threatened me as well.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure how to strengthen my grasp on my abilities short of practicing with them, and I wasn’t about to risk summoning another storm or avalanche.

Sighing, I huddled deeper within my pile of blankets, trying to remain alert. But the arduous walk through the snow and the pleasantly toasty air from the fire made my eyelids grow heavy, and I slipped into a dreamless sleep.

“No desire for company to keep you warm? A shame.”

The words jolted me awake, sitting up and staring toward the door. Something scratched along its surface outside, slowly and deliberately. That deep, taunting male voice spoke through the keyhole again.

“All alone, I see. Your dog left you to fend for yourself.”

Seizing the knife, I stared at the door, willing myself to be unafraid.The wards won’t let him in.

The fire burned low, casting an umber glow around me but leaving the cabin’s edges in flickering shadow. Through the window beside the door, I caught a flash of movement in the night.

How long had I slept? And where was Garrick?

The scratching started again. “A quiet little human,” the stranger crooned. “You can’t hide in there forever. Why don’t we strike a bargain?”

I gathered my courage. “I’m no fool,” I said, tightening my grasp on the knife. “You want whatever price the Silverfrost family placed on my head, and the only thing I want is my freedom. There is no agreement we can come to, and nothing you say will convince me to let you in. You cannot pass the wards.”

There was a long, drawn-out sigh, almost as if the fae were using it only for dramatic effect. “Very well. Be difficult.”

My heart hammered in my ears as I heard the scrape of a blade being drawn.

“They want you alive, but considering you killed my friends, made hunting you challenging, and forced me to draw my own blood, I think they’ll understand if I take my time with you first.”

I stood, letting the blankets fall to the floor and holding the knife point toward the cabin entrance, as if the creature could see me. “What are you talking about?”

“Playing with my prey. Little worm that you are, I’ve heard your blood tastes intoxicating to my kind. Perhaps I’ll take a sip or two.”

The earlier warmth of the cabin had vanished in an all-consuming chill. I shuddered as my breath fogged. Nearby, the fire sputtered and dimmed, fighting against a frigid breeze gusting around me and tangling in my hair. “You’ll never make it inside.”

Laughter, deep and threatening, made me feel like claws were being scraped down my spine. “Unfortunately, Garrick Darkgrove failed to realize that it wasmyancestors who created the wards for these cabins. The same blood that marks them for protection runs in my veins. All I need is a few drops of my blood for the magic to recognize me and let me pass.”

There was a click as if to emphasize his point, and then the deadbolt slid open of its own accord. The knob turned and the door swung inward, wind and snow swirling inside. In the entrance, the hulking form of the winged fae man loomed before me, his mouth open wide to reveal black fangs.

My heart throbbed in my throat, but my scream died before it could fully form.

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