The morning after the Winter Ball arrived wrapped in heavy snow and uneasy quiet.
Gerffron stood at the window of his solar, watching thick white flakes drift past the glass. The villa was stirring slowly — servants clearing away the last traces of last night's decorations, the low murmur of voices echoing through the corridors as everyone prepared for the real Winter Ball tomorrow night. The air smelled of pine and cold stone.
He had not slept.
The image of Styrmir on that white-silk stage refused to leave him. The gold collar. The empty storm-gray eyes. The way the bids had climbed while Teivel laughed and Gorgina's hand rested on his thigh beneath the table.
A soft knock pulled him from the memory.
Selfi entered with breakfast and a small cream-colored envelope sealed with Count Remal's sapphire rose.
"Your Grace," she said, placing the tray down. "This arrived at dawn. Count Remal invites you to join him for a winter deer hunt on his southern lands today. He says the stags are at their finest this season and the fresh snow will make for good tracking. Lady Elowen has already approved the outing."
Gerffron took the envelope. Inside was a short note in Remal's elegant hand:
The stags are moving early this year. Join me at the southern lodge by midday. Bring only your bow and whatever secrets you can carry quietly. The forest has ears, but the hunt will cover our voices. — Remal
A public invitation. A perfectly innocent winter hunt. No one would question a new consort accepting such an offer from a respected house-husband.
Gerffron looked up. "Tell Lady Elowen I accept. And prepare Shadow."
Selfi bowed. "As you wish."
He dressed for the hunt — practical dark wool, heavy cloak, bow slung across his back. The silver ring stayed on his little finger. The two pebbles from Styrmir stayed in their hidden pocket. The blood-stained black rose petal he left on the desk like a silent vow.
The ride to Remal's southern hunting lodge took two hours through thick forest and fresh snow. When he arrived, Count Remal was already waiting outside the lodge with two saddled horses and a small hunting party of three trusted men who immediately moved out of earshot.
Remal greeted him with a warm smile for anyone watching, then lowered his voice the moment they were alone on the trail.
"The silver ring worked faster than I expected," he said as they rode deeper into the woods. "The deer hunt was the safest cover I could think of. No one questions a nobleman chasing stags in winter."
They rode in silence for a while until the trees grew thick enough to hide them completely. Remal reined in his horse and pulled out a folded map.
"Styrmir is in the Crown Prince's east wing lower cells," he said without preamble. "He was delivered there two nights ago. They're keeping him heavily drugged and collared for the public opening of the slave market right after tomorrow night's ball. Twenty guards on rotation. The auction itself will be in the underground hall — invitation only."
Gerffron's breath clouded in the cold air. "How do I get in?"
Remal traced a faint line on the map. "There's an old servant tunnel here — almost forgotten. It surfaces inside the east wing laundry. Baron Acquikth has a man on the inside who can leave the outer grate unlocked for one night only. Tomorrow night. During the chaos of the ball's final hours, when half the guards are distracted by fireworks and drunken nobles."
Gerffron stared at the map. Tomorrow night.
Remal continued quietly. "My men will create a distraction in the main ballroom. Some of them will watch the outer gates. Baron Acquikth will have fresh horses and the southern safe house ready. Once you have the boy, you ride hard south. The border is three days away. My acquaintance across the border owes me a life debt — he'll take Styrmir in and raise him safely until the time is right."
Gerffron folded the map with steady hands. "It's risky."
"It's suicide if you're caught," Remal said bluntly. "But it's the only window we have before they move him again. If you want to do this, tomorrow night is the night."
Gerffron slipped the map inside his cloak. "Then tomorrow night it is."
They spent the next hour riding slowly through the forest, pretending to track deer while Remal gave him every detail — guard shift changes, the exact location of the laundry grate, what to bring (sleeping draught, dark cloak, rope). When the sun began to dip, they turned back toward the lodge.
Before they parted, Remal gripped his shoulder. "You're not alone in this. But once you cross that line… there is no going back."
Gerffron nodded. "I stopped going back the night I woke up married to her."
He rode home through the thickening snow with the map hidden and the plan burning in his mind. The rescue was now set for tomorrow night — during the chaos of the Winter Ball itself.
When he returned to the villa, Gorgina was waiting in the entrance hall.
She had changed into a simple black gown, hair loose, eyes sharp with something new — suspicion mixed with hunger. The moment he stepped inside she crossed the room and caught his face in both hands.
"You've been gone all day," she said quietly. "Hunting with Remal."
Gerffron met her gaze steadily. "Yes."
Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones. "You're planning something. I can feel it in my bones." Her voice dropped. "I should lock you in this room until the ball is over. I should chain you to my side so you can't disappear on me."
She pulled him into a kiss that was fierce and possessive, almost desperate. When she pulled back, her eyes were wet.
"But I won't," she whispered. "Because the man I bought as a tool… he's becoming the only thing in this empire I'm terrified of losing."
Gerffron let her hold him for a long moment.
Later that night, when she finally fell asleep in his arms, Gerffron slipped from the bed and returned to the balcony and looked at the two pebbles on the nightstand.
Tomorrow night he would either bring Styrmir home… or die trying.
Gerffron touched the silver ring on his finger and smiled at the falling snow outside the window.