The snow began to fall in earnest, covering the forest floor in a pristine, white blanket. Kaia moved like a ghost through the undergrowth, her breath hitching in the frozen air. She had slipped away from the rebel camp while Silas and the others were distracted by a heated argument over their next move.
She knew the King's hunting party was nearby. She could smell the faint scent of woodsmoke and hear the distant, rhythmic jingle of horse bridles.
She stopped near a frozen stream, her heart hammering against her ribs. Suddenly, the snapping of a dry twig behind her made her spin around, her hand flying to the hilt of her dagger.
A tall figure emerged from the mist. He was cloaked in heavy furs, but the way he carried himself—straight-backed and commanding—was unmistakable. It was Alaric.
"You're late," he said, his voice a low vibration that seemed to cut through the cold.
Kaia gasped, her hand dropping from her weapon. "You... you were waiting for me?"
"I knew you'd come," Alaric replied, stepping closer. The moonlight caught the silver frost in his hair and the intensity in his dark eyes. "You're a Valerius. You don't just run away. You fight. And right now, the biggest fight is whether you trust me or the man who wants to turn this kingdom into a graveyard."
"Silas knows about the secret entrance," Kaia whispered, her voice trembling. "They want to strike the palace at midnight. They think you're leading the hunt in the south."
"Let them think that," Alaric said, a grim smile touching his lips. "My best soldiers are already positioned in the shadows of the capital. If the rebels attack, they will be walking into a trap."
Kaia froze. "You're going to slaughter them?"
"I'm going to end this war, Kaia," Alaric said, his voice turning soft as he reached out to touch her cloak. "But I can't do it if you're on the other side of the blade. I need you to lead them, but not to the palace. Lead them to the Northern Pass. My diplomats are waiting there with a peace treaty. We can give your people the autonomy they want without shedding another drop of blood."
Kaia looked at him, her mind racing. If she did what he asked, she would be betraying Silas and everything she had been taught to believe. But if she didn't, she would be responsible for the deaths of hundreds—including Alaric.
"Why should I believe you?" she asked, her eyes glistening. "You're the King of Aethelgard. You've broken promises before."
"Because I'm not asking you as a King," Alaric said, stepping so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. He took her hand, his gloved fingers intertwining with hers. "I'm asking you as a man who is tired of being alone on a throne built on bones. Help me build something better."
From the distance, a wolf howled—a signal from the rebel camp.
"They're coming for me," Kaia said, pulling her hand away. "I have to go."
"The Northern Pass, Kaia," Alaric urged. "Midnight. Choose the future, not the past."
As Alaric disappeared back into the snowy mist, Kaia stood alone by the frozen stream. She had less than four hours to decide the fate of her people—and her heart