After the ball,
The carriage rattled through the streets of the capital, leaving the golden glow of the Palace behind.
Inside, the silence was heavy. Caspian sat with his eyes closed, his hand resting over his heart where the Star-Iron hummed its broken tune. Orion was asleep against his father's arm, clutching a napkin he had saved from the chocolate fountain.
I looked out the window.
"Stop the carriage," I whispered.
"Primrose?" Caspian opened his eyes, alert. "What is wrong?"
"No," I said, pointing at the sky. "It's the sky."
A single white flake drifted down. Then another. Then a thousand.
Within seconds, the world turned white. The wind howled, shaking the carriage. The temperature dropped so fast frost formed on the glass instantly.
The First Snow.
"The Whiteout," Caspian murmured, looking at the storm. "I have read about this. The surface winter. It stops armies."
