“Well, I am.”

That’s when I noticed the WANTED poster tacked up on the bulletin board behind her. The one that Bain had shown me. Right next to Konstantin Black, I saw a black-and-white photo of my face staring right back at me, and I realized that I might have made a mistake coming in here.

“Are you a half-breed like me?” she asked. Her eyes brightened and she stopped slouching.

I nodded. “I’m Kanin and Skojare.”

She smiled crookedly and pointed to herself. “Omte and Skojare.”

I smiled back, hoping to earn some goodwill. “It’s so rare to meet people that share a heritage like that.”

“Maybe where you come from, but not so much around here. Iskyla is where they drop all the trolls they’d rather forget about—unwanted babies, outlaw changelings that can’t hack it, half-breeds that don’t fit in anywhere.” She shook her head. “That’s how I ended up stuck here.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“My parents were unmarried royals that didn’t want to lose their inheritance because of a bastard child, but apparently my mother loved me too much to just let me die out in the cold.” She rolled her eyes. “So they dropped me here when I was a week old, and the innkeeper has been putting me to work for my keep ever since.”

Truth be told, I didn’t know much about Iskyla. It was very secluded, so we rarely had reason to talk about it. But since it was one of the most isolated towns in the entire troll community, it made sense that it had become a collective dumping ground.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, and I meant it. It had been hard enough for me growing up as a half-breed with parents who wanted me and loved me. I couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for her growing up in a place like this without anyone.

She shrugged. “It could be worse.” Then her forehead scrunched up and she tilted her head like something had occurred to her. “Hey, didn’t the King die or something?”

I was taken aback by the casual way she broached the subject. Living in the Kanin capital and working for the kingdom, I’d gotten so used to the royalty being talked about with great reverence. But she seemed only vaguely aware that we even had a King.

Here in Iskyla, things were obviously very different. It was so disconnected from the rest of the kingdom—geographically and socially. It was like its own private little island.

“He did,” I said somberly.

“I heard that nobody in Iskyla was allowed to go to the funeral,” she said, then looked down and muttered, “Not that any of us would’ve gone anyway.”

“Ulla!” a voice barked from the back room. “Stop wasting the guest’s time and show her to her room.”

The girl rolled her eyes again, this time even more dramatically than before. “Sorry. I’ll get your room key.”

She turned back around and went into the back room, where she and the innkeeper immediately began sniping at each other. As fast as I could, I leapt up onto the bar and leaned forward. I snatched the WANTED poster of myself off the bulletin board, crumpled it up, and shoved it into my pocket.

I’d just dropped back to my feet when the door swung open again. The teenage girl came out carrying a large metal key attached to a big carved chunk of wood.

“Come on.” She motioned for me to follow her as she went up the stairs, each one of them creaking under her feet.

As I followed her up, I realized how tattered her layers of clothing appeared. The long tunic sweater was frayed at the edges, the fur on the hooded vest was coming out in patches, her heavy leggings were thin in the knees, and even her leg warmers had seen better days. Despite the cold, her feet were bare, and she had on pale blue toenail polish and a toe ring.

At the top of the stairs, she opened a door that had the number 3 painted on it, and she held it open for me. I slid past her into a narrow room with hardly enough space for the queen bed and a rocking chair. Several quilts were piled up on the bed, and a dusty arctic hare had been mounted on the wall.

I tossed my duffel bag on the bed and turned back toward her. “Sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Ulla Tulin.” She hung on to the door handle and half leaned on the door, so I didn’t attempt to shake her hand.

“Bryn.” I declined to give a last name, since that seemed less likely to trigger a connection to the WANTED poster. But either way, Ulla didn’t give any sign of recognition.

“It was nice meeting you, and let me know if you need anything. We don’t have any other guests, and I’m hardly ever doing anything, so I might as well be helping you.”

“Actually, I did need your help.”

She perked up and took a step in the room. “Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you know anything about a Mina Arvinge?” I asked, using Queen Mina’s maiden name.

Ulla cocked her head. “That name sounds familiar, but I don’t think any Arvinges live here now.” She thought for a moment, staring off into space, then looked back at me. “Isn’t the Queen named Mina? I’d heard someone say she was from here once, but I just thought they were lying. People come here to disappear.” Then, sadly, she added, “Nobody ever actually makes it out.”

“I’m sure some people do,” I said, attempting vainly to cheer her up. I neglected to address her connection about Mina and the Queen. The less she knew about what I was looking for, the better.

Ulla gave a one-shoulder shrug, like she didn’t care one way or another. “There’s only eight hundred and seventy-eight people that live here, so you’d think everybody’d know everything about everyone. But truth is, most people keep to themselves. We like our secrets here.”

“Do you know of anybody named Mina?” I pressed on. “She probably moved away around five years ago.”

“Five years ago?” Ulla repeated, thinking. “Kate Kissipsi had a couple sisters that left. I’m not sure when, but you could talk to her. She might know something.”

“Do you know where she lives?” I asked.

“On the north side of town.” Ulla gestured behind her. “I could take you there if you want.”

“Could you? That’d be really great.”

“Yeah.” She smiled broadly, probably excited about the idea of getting out of the inn. “I have to make supper first, and you can have some. It’s nothing exciting. Just boiled potatoes and ukaliq.”

“Ukaliq?” I echoed, doing my best to make the ew-ka-lick sound she made.

“Sorry, arctic hare.” Her expression changed to one of exaggerated weariness. “We eat so much hare.” Then she shook her head, clearing it of the thought, and her smile returned. “I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty minutes for supper, and then I’ll take you out to see Kate.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

visitors

We have to walk,” Ulla told me as she pulled on heavy kamik boots made of sealskin and lined with fur. “It’s only about a mile north, so it’s not that bad.”

“Why do we have to walk?” I asked, bundling up the same way she was in the lobby of the inn.

“Because Kate doesn’t like visitors, so it’s better if she doesn’t hear us coming.” With that, she turned and headed toward the front door. “Let’s go. We have to be back before dark.”

Dark was still several hours away, but I didn’t argue with her. I just followed her out into the cold. We went down the front steps, and then walked half a block. The streets were deserted, and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought this was a ghost town. But Ulla assured me that people actually lived here.

At the end of the block, we took a right turn onto a poorly kept path. It had obviously been shoveled at some point in the winter, since it had less snow than the areas around it, but it was covered in snow.

“Why doesn’t Kate like visitors?” I asked as we walked out of town.

“Nobody likes visitors here.” Ulla spoke loudly so her voice would carry through the thick scarf she’d wrapped around her face.

“It seems like a lonely place,” I said.

Ulla looked at me with a snowflake stuck to her eyelash. “You have no idea.”

We’d walked for quite a while before Ulla pointed at what appeared to be a heap of snow on the ground, claiming that it was Kate’s place. As we got closer, it finally began to take shape. It was so low to the ground that it had to be built like Ridley’s house, with most of it below the surface. Snow covered it, probably both to camouflage it and to help insulate it during the harsh winters.

Dirty snow appeared to move near the front of the house, but when two gray and white drifts began charging toward us, I quickly realized it wasn’t snow. Two massive wolves had been lying outside, but now they were running toward Ulla and me, snarling and barking.

“I forgot she had wolves,” Ulla said.

I started backing away, since the wolves were rapidly approaching us. “We should get out of here.”

“No, don’t run!” Ulla snapped. “That’ll only make them chase you.”