“Do not shift before her. She will not withstand the sight of your wolf.”
Those had been Dylia’s words, soft but resolute.
Cedric held them close as the carriage creaked through the first stretch of human land, frost-laced and silent.
Snow blanketed the world in stillness, save for the rattling of the wheels against stone. Suddenly, a loud crack split the quiet—one of the carriage wheels struck a jagged rock and lurched violently, throwing the balance off. Inside, Milicent stirred, agitated by the sudden jolt.
Cedric leapt down, the cold biting at his skin despite the heavy woolen cloak drawn tight about his shoulders. This part of the realm was merciless, winds sharp as blades, cold that crept into the bones.
He moved to the carriage and peered in.
Milicent was awake, but her gaze
