It didn’t matter—all that mattered was the weight in Mather’s arms, the body still warm against his.
“William.”
Mather’s own voice shocked him by how worn it sounded. It scratched against his throat like dry air on a hot day, and when it did William looked over his shoulder, for a moment ignoring Brennan and his still-poised blade.
William’s eyes barely glanced at Mather before they locked on Alysson’s body. Whatever emotion William had been feeling sunk back into his face, the muscles relaxing, his brow drooping.
Mather had seen William react to death before, to their soldiers who stumbled into camp only to die hours later. He had been stoic in their passing, showing his pain through small gestures—putting a hand on their forehead, bowing over their corpse.
But this was how death truly felt, the way William gazed at Alysson’s body like he could force some of his own life into her through sheer need. Like he couldn’t grasp the image of her, one of those fleeting blips of dreams beforedawn. Like he had already planned her murderer’s death, from the first blade drawn to the last moan from the soldier, a quiet, tortured plea.
Mather dropped to his knees, Alysson’s body sliding out of his arms as William turned on Brennan. A knife appeared, the blade pressed between William’s fingers. He ducked, grabbed Brennan’s hand where he held the hilt of his sword, and twisted until Brennan screamed from the pain of his fingers dislocating. As Brennan moved to retaliate, as Mather felt the Thaw behind him draw a collective breath, William swiped his hand against Brennan’s throat.
Brennan staggered back, slammed into the bookcase, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He grabbed at the gash in his neck, and William watched him, standing over the Cordellan captain as the man slid to the floor, blood pulsing between Brennan’s fingers on gagging spasms.
When he slumped against the wall, Mather shuddered with a single thought.
He died too quickly. He should have suffered—ice above, I wanted him to suffer.
William crouched over Alysson’s body, Brennan’s blood tainting his hand red. Mather couldn’t deduce anything from William’s face—he’d see more staring at a wall. Meira had said that about Mather too, a few times. She’d thought it a conscious decision, but it wasn’t, it was justhimas much as it was William now, and Mather wanted to grab William’s shoulders and shake him until real emotion tumbled out.
“You’ll leave,” William said. Mather blinked at him, the words not processing as William scooped Alysson’s body into his arms and stood. “The queen will probably be in Ventralli by the time you reach it—head to the Feni River. You’ll travel faster by ship—get aboard whatever you can. Do anything you have to, Mather.Anything.”
Mather leapt up as William laid Alysson’s body on his desk. Her head bobbled to the side, white hair cascading over her cheek, some of the strands clumped in tangles of blood and dirt. Her eyes sat open, staring unseeing at the study crowded with the Children of the Thaw.
How long ago had Mather stood in this same spot and called his mother a coward? She hadn’t said a damn thing to stop him. Mather clenched his fists, trying frantically to remember everything shehadsaid to him. He should’ve written it all down, should’ve branded it on his skin. Should’ve, should’ve,should’ve.
“I’m sorry,” Mather moaned. That broke him. Not seeing his mother murdered, not the still-sounding horns of Cordell outside, signaling the ensuing takeover.
William spun away and grabbed Mather’s arms, fingers digging like vises into his muscle. “You cannot afford to be weak. You will go to our queen and make sure she is safe.” William shook him as Mather moaned, damn it, he was still so weak. “Do you understand me?”
Mather shoved out of William’s hands. No, this man did not get to pretend he was the strong one. They both knewwho was the strong one, and she wasdead.
He wanted to say all of that to William. Damn it, his mother had just died, and he wanted William to be a parent now, to pull him into his arms and assure him that they would get through this together.
But they wouldn’t. This was who they were, had always been, and would continue to be.
So Mather turned his sobs into a snarl. “You aren’t allowed to break either. If I sense weakness—” Could he do this? Could he threaten William? “I’ll kill you. I swear, William—you already let this takeover happen. You don’t get another chance. I won’t let Winter fall again.”
William turned away without a response and Mather pushed out of the study. The twang of a blade being drawn filled the air behind him—William arming himself.
The Thaw followed Mather silently, and he exhaled thanks that they didn’t try to talk to him. This horrified them too, he knew—their freedom had been so short-lived. But Mather pressed on, weaving into the dark streets, avoiding soldiers as chaos unfolded. Here Cordellans had to fight to subdue Winterians—there Winterians raised their hands in surrender. Here Cordellans barked threats—there Winterians fell to their knees and shouted compliance.
It made Mather sick, how many of them bowed without a fight. But he couldn’t stop an entire army with only seven warriors. Their small number made sneaking out of Jannuari easier, but that was all they could do. They needed Meira.
He needed Meira.
“You’ve fought for Winter so spectacularly, and I am more proud than I have ever been to call you my son. But don’t forget to fight for yourself as well—there is no shame in that.”
Mather may not have remembered everything Alysson had said to him, but he remembered the last thing. He pulled those words like armor around him along with the promise he had made William—he would not let Winter fall again.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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Meira
