“Valik? You can’t honestly think that man’s accusations are true. Reika told me Wynter’s life was in danger in order to lure me out of the palace and into a trap. She’s the one who led me into the forest. She attacked me.”

When he still said nothing, she threw her hands into the air. “Oh, for Halla’s sake! If I was out there meeting with enemy agents or sending secret invasion plans to my brother or whatever ridiculous thing you’re accusing me of doing, why would I have stopped those two garm from killing Wynter?”

Valik’s brows lifted. “You defeated those two garm? With Wynter’s sword? Forgive me, but I doubt you could lift Gunterfys, much less use it to slay two garm.”

“I’m not talking about the two garm Wynter killed,” she retorted. “I’m talking about the other two—the ones that would have ripped him to pieces if I hadn’t incinerated them.”

“There were no others, you evil bitch!” Wulf shouted from the doorway.

“Sven! Ungar!” Valik roared.

“Sorry, my lord,” one of the men escorting Wulf apologized. To his prisoner, he hissed, “Harm to her is harm to him, you idiot. Keep talking, and you’ll find yourself chained on the glaciers for treason.”

Khamsin turned her attention slowly back to Valik. She could feel the storm building inside her. They didn’t know about the garm she’d burned to ash with her lightning. They thought there’d only been two of the monsters—both slain by Wynter. But Wynter knew how many he’d faced. If Wynter were the one who had ordered this interrogation, they would know that, too.

She looked up slowly, and she knew by the way Valik went so still that her eyes must have gone pure, shifting silver. Proof of the dangerous, lethal power gaining strength inside her.

“Where is my husband?” she demanded in a low voice. “And cease with your lies. Does he still live?”

A muscle flexed in Valik’s jaw. “He lives.”

“But he never sent you here. He never told you to interrogate me. He never thought I was my brother’s spy.”

After a long, bitter hesitation, Valik spat out the truth. “He has not awakened since we found you both.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Wynter had not doubted her. He had not watched her risk her life to save him, then turned around and accused her of betrayal. Her fingers closed around the chain that tied her to the bed. Searing heat bloomed in her palm.

“Then you will take me to him. Now.” Her eyes flashed. Metal clanked against the bedpost as the heat-softened links of the chain attached to her wrist pulled apart.

The Wintermen raised their swords in swift response, pointing the business ends her way in naked threat, but just as quickly, her hands shot out, fingers splayed. White-hot electricity crackled at her fingertips.

“Do not,” she bit out. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but if you try to keep me from my husband even a moment longer, I’ll fry you where you stand.”

The guards looked to Valik for guidance, and Khamsin held his gaze, steady and fierce, until he gave a curt nod.

“Very well,” he agreed. “I’ll take you to him.” His eyes turned wintry. “But I warn you, lady, storm gifts or no, harm him in any way, and you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

With half a dozen swords pointed at her back, Khamsin followed Valik down an unlit hallway and into the spacious gathering room of what appeared to be some sort of hunting lodge. Animal pelts covered the floor and rustic furniture. Antlers and other hunting trophies adorned walls fashioned from tree trunks polished and darkened with age. A fire roared in a huge stone hearth that dominated the majority of one wall.

Galacia Frey stood before the fire. She was still dressed in her white leathers from the Great Hunt. She held Thorgyll’s freezing spear in one hand.

The priestess arched a brow. “I take it she convinced you?” she said to Valik.

He grimaced. “In a manner of speaking.”

Galacia glanced at the melted chain dangling from Khamsin’s handcuff, and the corner of her mouth curled. “So I see.”

“Where is Wynter?” Khamsin interrupted. “Valik said he would take me to him.” More sparks crackled at her fingertips. If this was another trap . . .

“And so he has,” Galacia assured her. She gestured towards the hearth. “The king lies there. In the fire.”

“In the—? Are you mad?” Khamsin gasped in horror and spun towards the hearth. The opening was as tall as she was, twice as wide, and easily six feet deep, and inside, stretched out on a raised metal grate and surrounded by orange flames, lay Wynter.

“Blessed Sun! What have you done?” Pushing Valik aside, she ran towards the hearth. She shoved her arms into the flames, intending to grab Wynter and pull him to safety, but before she could secure a grip, Galacia wrapped an arm around her waist and flung her away.

Kham came up fast, magic rising, a familiar violet glow surrounding her.

“Do not.” Galacia was crouched for battle. The business end of Thorgyll’s glittering crystalline spear was pointed at Khamsin. “The fire does not harm him. He is untouched. Look. See for yourself.”

Still holding her magic ready, Kham inched closer to the hearth and risked a swift glance at Wynter. What she saw made her rub her eyes and move closer still. That was indeed Wynter lying on the metal grate in the center of the flames. He was naked, his flesh still torn from his battle with the garm, but she could see no hint of injury from the fire licking at his skin.