Fiore sat beside the fire, its warmth barely reaching her as the bitter cold seeped into her bones. Despite the flickering flames, the chill that settled within her was more than physical. Across the camp, Lance lay chained, his enormous wolf form stretched out beneath the thin layer of snow that had begun to accumulate on him.
She watched him, unable to keep her eyes from drifting back to his still form. He had come for her—risked everything to save her—but now he was shackled like a beast. A shiver ran down her spine, not from the cold, but from the gnawing worry that clawed at her insides.
Flora had handed her a coat earlier, which Fiore now clutched around her shoulders. It was warm but insufficient against the biting winds of the North. She wasn’t accustomed to this kind of cold; t
