The northern winds arrived before Frosthold did.
Long before the city walls appeared on the horizon, the air had grown sharper, carrying with it the scent of pine forests and snow-covered mountains. Frost clung to the branches of towering fir trees, turning the landscape into a sea of silver and white.
The royal caravan pressed onward.
Twenty guards rode in disciplined formation, their horses’ hooves crunching against the frozen road. Lord Elias studied a weathered map while Sir Roland remained alert, his hand never far from the hilt of his sword.
At the front rode Crown Prince Alistair and Prince Julian.
Evadne followed close behind.
She pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter around herself as another icy gust swept across the mountain pass.
“I thought Oakhaven’s winters were cold,” sh
