Snow fell like ash.
Sophia drifted in and out of burning dreams—visions twisted with firelight and claws. In one, Arthur kissed her hand and shoved her into a coffin. In another, Caesar knelt before her, mouth at her neck, whispering something she couldn't hear.
Then teeth.
Burning.
And black.
She woke screaming—but no sound came out.
Her body convulsed, fever tearing through her veins like wildfire. She tried to push herself up, but her limbs wouldn't obey.
“You're awake," said a low voice.
Caesar knelt beside her in the ruined tower.
His cloak had been thrown over her like a blanket. A fire crackled a few feet away. She could hear wolves howling in the distance.
“You're safe. You're not dying," he added, before she could panic again.
She stared at him, mouth opening and closin
