Zyryxa jolted awake, gasping as though surfacing from a sub-zero plunge. Her skin was slick with cold sweat, her entire body trembling with exhaustion. She felt like as if she had struggled through a storm-tossed sea for an eternity before finally washing ashore. Opening her eyes, she braced for the comforting sight of her Loxzua bedroom, only to be met with disorienting darkness and faint flickers of firelight.

This was no bedroom. The absence of her father’s soothing voice, Zyrxine’s whiny bickering, her brother practicing his lute, her mother’s comforting perfume, and the warmth of home made it painfully clear. Instead, she lay under a clear night sky in a bed of flowers that crunched softly as she shifted. Disoriented, she struggled to her feet, falling twice before managing to stand. Several hides and a strange white cloak slid off of her as she rose.

Her head throbbed and burned. Had she camped in the hills outside Loxzua and fallen into a particularly groggy sleep? Had she been drinking that nasty stuff the foreign sailors brought into port? Maybe too much fermented yak’s milk? Why couldn’t she remember?

Shivering, Zyryxa edged closer to the fire, wincing as her numbed muscles gradually thawed. A massive drake, its blue and silver scales shimmering faintly in the moonlight, gently nudged her. Zyryxa recoiled in surprise. This was not her mother’s coldscale, but a majestic female, larger and more imposing than Tyxl. Why did she not recall this striking creature?

Her teeth chattered uncontrollably as she stepped in place, trying to thaw her aching muscles. Cradling herself for heat, she startled again, wondering when those got there. She looked down to admire herself, only to gasp in horror. She was completely naked, her confusion compounded by the sight of scattered furs and undergarments that didn’t belong to her.

Panic surged through her. There was no way she broke tradition! Sure, by herself, her bedroom door latched to prevent Abbacyx from barging in to tell her about some new thing he learned. She couldn’t have gone beyond those sacred boundaries. Right? Her head pounded, feeling as if it had been smashed by a hammer. Why couldn’t she remember? How much had she drunk? What had she done?

The drake nudged her once more, pulling her gaze toward a shadowy figure across the fire. This was no boy, but a man, his muscular form starkly outlined against the flickering flames. His sculpted pectorals and chiseled abs exposed as his hides were unstrung. His biceps and triceps were loaded with raw power, suggesting that he could scoop a girl up and carry her across the tundra ease. His legs, covered in wolf hide, were powerfully built, made for long nights and late mornings. Her heart pounded harder, her throat constricted, and she realized, with terror, that she could have…

She would never drink again. Her mother was going to kill … her mother was…

Tears filled her eyes. Her mother was dead. Sobbing, she looked into the eyes of the man, recognizing his droopy eyes, asymmetrical jaw, and broken nose.

“The Ice Princess thaws without a kiss from her prince,” the man said, his deep voice resonating as his eyes shamelessly took in her nakedness.

Zyryxa shuddered, fury rising within her, hot enough to burn down Monzqora. She covered herself with the white cloak—Lexyn’s cloak. Where was Lexyn? The bed of flowers—calidex and pasque—was clearly Lexyn’s work, as were the warm poultices scattered over her body. But there was no sign of Lexyn or Dryxl. Turning from Pelzyq, she wiped her eyes and stared down into valley.

The remains of the white wyrm snapped Zyryxa back to the present. She recalled the moment she pierced its heart, the rush of its blood, and the ensuing darkness. How long had she been out? The moon’s waning was wrong; it couldn’t have been three nights since that battle.

Lexyn must’ve tended to her, but where was she now? Zyryxa needed answers.

Instead, she had Pelzyq. He loomed at her shoulder, studying the valley with an annoying air of nonchalance. “Looking for this?” he said, thrusting a flask toward her. “Little Mouse wouldn’t let you drink Pelzyq’s medicine while you were asleep. It’ll warm you up faster than Freadal’s breath.”

Zyryxa turned away from him, making sure the cloak covered her properly. Pelzyq took a swig and hooted, slapping his elbow against his waist. “It’s good dragon spit. Strong enough for Pelzyq. Perhaps too strong for the ice princess?” He shook the flask in front of her face. “Eh?”

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“Where is Lexyn?” Zyryxa’s voice was sharp, cutting through the frigid air like a blade.

Pelzyq gestured lazily toward the northern hills, where a faint column of smoke twisted into the sky several miles away. “Little Mouse kept squeaking about how you should’ve recovered. She took the black drake to find some help.” He grunted, then added with a smirk, “Who’s Saevah?”

Zyryxa’s rage ignited. She stomped toward him, not caring if the cloak slipped. “You keep that name off your filthy tongue.”

Pelzyq took a few steps back, raising his arms in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Pelzyq’s filthy tongue lives to please princesses like you. Besides, Pelzyq knows your secret.”

She pulled the cloak tighter around her, trying to focus, her wit not thawing. “What do you mean?”

“All that moaning about Saevah? Let’s just say that one filthy tongue recognizes another.” He offered the flask of dragon spit again. “Wanna taste?”

Zyryxa’s stomach churned with revulsion. She couldn’t believe Lexyn would leave her unconscious and exposed to this vile creature. But Lexyn might have gone to a homestead, desperate to help Zyryxa. The whole situation grated on her nerves, her anger simmering just below the surface. She wanted to pummel Pelzyq into the ice for his leering and his demeaning talk about Lexyn. She opened her mouth to tell him to leave but remembered her vow to Qoryxa. The words froze in her throat.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the fire, her mind a storm of conflicting emotions. She couldn’t let her fury get the better of her, not now. She owed that much to Lexyn, if not this vulgar man. Besides, she lived by Qoryxa’s will and was bound by divine mandate to welcome him into her brood. She shuddered, tendrils of disgust sending spasms through her, nauseated by her attraction to him during her divinedamned delirium.

A primal scream erupted from Zyryxa, a raw, visceral cry that tore at her throat. She needed to do something— anything—to channel the explosive anger boiling within her. Zyryxa hefted her mother’s greataxe, the haft eroded where wyrm’s blood had eaten through the bone. The metal head glimmered with a blue sheen, tainted by the icy blood. She grinned maliciously, knowing this would make her blows deadlier, especially against the Fire Tribe. During her unconsciousness, she had been haunted by visions of Saevah and her mother, helplessly reliving the scene where the red-haired knight repeatedly delivered the fatal blow to her mother.

She swung the axe, her rage breaking through her torpor. She hacked at the phantoms in her mind, imagining the air was Saevah, and she chopped her into pieces. Her strength did not outlast her fury. She dropped the axe into the ice, sweating and panting, then slumped by the fire.

Pelzyq sat across from Zyryxa, his eyes leering at her chest as he jangled his fucking flask. Zyryxa hugged herself for warmth and concealment, determined to ignore him. He sighed, took another swallow of his foul drink, and the fire crackled in the tense silence.

Zyryxa’s mind raced. Why hadn’t Pelzyq left after recovering from his wounds? He had been so intent on beating them to Riverwatch and invoking Zamael against her. So why was he still here? Was it just to ogle her while she was vulnerable?

“Why are you still here?” Her question came out sharper than she intended.

“Pelzyq pays his debts,” he replied

“The mighty Pelzyq admits that he is indebted to me?”

“To you, Pelzyq owes nothing.”

“Lexyn?”

He nodded. “Little Mouse saved us both from the big bad wyrm. For two days, Pelzyq was unconscious, frozen, while she kept me alive. Two days,” he put up two fingers, “Pelzyq told her he would do whatever she asked.” He grinned lasciviously. “And Pelzyq means to do whatever it takes to satisfy Little Mouse.”

Divine Qoryxa, Zyryxa tried to control her rage, each mention of ‘Little Mouse’ spreading the thread of her restraint to its limits. She struggled to keep the vindictive blizzard within her at bay, to honor her vow. “Stop calling her that, you ugly fucker!” she snapped, the cloak slipping off her as she rose. Catching her breath, she sat back down, covering herself again.

Pelzyq tsked. “Why hide? Qoryxa crafted you in her image so you can be admired. Pelzyq can take some off if you want it to be fair. Pelzyq is more impressive without clothing than you are.”

She hated that she allowed the wyrm to put her in this damnable position, wishing for anyone else as company. Zyryxa tried to remain civil for Lexyn’s sake, constantly reminding herself of the vow she made to Qoryxa. Pelzyq had honored his word to Lexyn; she would not prove less honorable than this vile man. “Thank you for honoring your words,” she said icily through gritted teeth.

Pelzyq’s smug grin made her regret the words instantly. He leaned back and inhaled deeply. “What can Pelzyq say? His word is as unblemished as Zyryxa’s skin, as firm as Zyryxa’s breasts, as—”

The thread snapped. She lunged at him, clawing his face. “Leave me alone!” she shrieked.

His jaw tightened, and his blue eyes flared with rage as blood trickled down his cheek. She was convinced he would attack, try to pin her down, and force himself on her. If he did, she could justify breaking her oath and leave his body broken. But once again, Pelzyq disappointed her.

Pelzyq’s fierce scowl softened into genuine concern as he pointed urgently behind her. “Little Mouse!”

Bless Qoryxa! Zyryxa thought, relieved at the prospect of company she didn’t want to castrate. She swung around, at first confused, then assuming Pelzyq was distracting her for an ambush. But then she saw. Several pillars of smoke rose in the distance, burning far more fiercely than any bonfire or hearthfire. The homestead was aflame. And Lexyn was there.