The snow began falling before dawn.
Not the fierce, blinding blizzards Frosthold was famous for, but gentle flakes drifting lazily from the pale morning sky. They settled on rooftops, pine branches, and the frozen cobblestones, transforming the weary city into a picture of quiet beauty.
Evadne stood at the window of her chamber overlooking the town square.
Children were already gathering despite the cold, laughing as they rolled snow into uneven balls. Women hung ribbons made of woven wool across market stalls, while elderly men struggled to lift wooden poles decorated with carved ravens.
She frowned.
“They’re celebrating?”
A knock came at her door.
“Come in.”
Alistair entered, fastening the clasp of his dark winter cloak.
“They insisted,” he said with a faint smile.
“The Frost F
