The cold of the Northern Winter Court was no longer my enemy; it had become my armor. Two weeks had passed since the day I drew the first drop of blood from King Valerius on the frozen training grounds. Two weeks of hell, of breaking every bone in my human mindset, and rebuilding myself from the ashes of the kitchen maid I used to be.
Every morning before the sun could even pierce through the heavy gray clouds of the northern mountains, I was already running. My feet, once covered in blisters and dirt from the Blood Moon packhouse, were now calloused and firm, gripping the frozen earth with a newfound predatory certainty.
I stood at the edge of the obsidian balcony in my new chambers, draped in a deep midnight-blue silk robe that Valerius had ordered for me. I looked down at my hands. T
