••{GARRICK'S POV}••
The cold is relentless.
It doesn't just bite. It gnaws. It sinks past wool and leather and fur until it settles deep in my bones, a dull ache that never fades. I've lost count of how many times I've moved my fingers inside my gloves just to remind myself they're still there.
Twenty five days.
That's how long it's been since we left Astragarde.
Prince Alexei rides a few paces ahead of me, his cloak pulled tight around his shoulders, his posture straight despite the grief that has not loosened its grip on him since his brother's death. Lord Thorian keeps to the front ahead all of us. A dozen soldiers from the Astragardian army trail quietly behind us, faces set with determination that hasn't yet been tested by what lies ahead.
Every night, when we make camp and the fire burns low, my thoughts return to her.
Princess Rhiannon.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her as she was on the day I failed her.
