The freezing wind howled through the high stairwell, driving fine needles of white ice across the dark stone steps.
King Kaelen lay pinned beneath the heavy ceiling beams, his massive frame shaking with violent tremors as the antidote surged through his bloodstream. His torn velvet tunic was soaked with dark sweat, his bare chest heaving like a bellows inside an iron forge. The violet lines that had poisoned his flesh were turning into blinding rivers of molten gold, pulsing with raw, uncontrolled heat beneath his pale skin. Every muscle in his broad shoulders stood out like wound cable, his spine arching off the stone steps in agonizing resistance.
Beside him, Elara knelt firmly upon the wet flagstones, refusing to yield an inch to the freezing storm.
She wore her fitted black wool tun
