It was the black château from her dreams.

Built to accommodate the mountain’s crags and cliffs, tucked between juts of rock, it hugged the slope in long, flat layers, the rooftops square and sharply peaked, as though each level of the building wore a pair of horns.

What is it? Ludivine asked. You’re terrified.

I’m not. It’s nothing. Rielle fumbled to draw shut the doors of her mind. Her thoughts felt as ungainly and numb as her fingers. I’m very cold.

As she followed Vaska up the path, she searched the snow, her heart pounding so hard she felt it in the soles of her feet.

• • •

They were given rooms in a private wing of the Obex temple—dimly lit, the musky, still air sweetened with incense. The hallways were silent, lined with thick carpets that offered some respite from the bitter cold. A few Obex shuffled throughout, quiet in their thick robes and furred slippers. Hoods drawn, heads bowed, they ignored the exhausted newcomers tracking ice and mud across their floors.

The rooms they were assigned were blessedly warm, an enormous fire roaring in the hearth.

Once Ludivine had left them, and her Sun Guard had stationed themselves outside the door, Rielle stripped off her clothes. Shivering, she retreated to the bed, heaped high with furs, and once Audric joined her, they clung to each other, saying nothing until their bodies had warmed.

“This is a strange place,” Audric murmured at last. “I don’t like it. I fear we should not have come. Once the storm has stopped, we should leave.”

“We need the casting,” Rielle argued, her head tucked beneath his. “This is how we find it.”

Audric said nothing, his fingers absently combing through her hair in the way she so loved.

What are you hiding from me? Ludivine’s voice came sharply from her room across the hall. What are you doing, Rielle?

Trying to sleep, Rielle replied. Leave me alone.

But she did not sleep. She lay awake until Audric’s breathing slowed and then sent out a single, quiet thought: I’m here. Are you?

Corien answered at once. I am. Come find me.

She slipped out of Audric’s arms and dressed, hardly noticing the cold, not entirely sure if she was dreaming.

Are you watching me? she asked, tugging on her stiff trousers, her battered boots.

Always, Rielle.

She should have been alarmed, enraged.

She was not.

I wish I weren’t wearing these rags, she admitted, fumbling to fasten her cloak. They aren’t fit to be seen by you.

His pleasure arched against her like a contented cat. You want to look beautiful for me.

Rielle fled down the corridor, past her oblivious Sun Guard, her gloved hands in fists. The temple had darkened, most of the candles burned to stubs.

I don’t know when I’ll see you again, she explained to him. I want you to…

She hesitated. Her face burned and tears tightened her throat.

He finished the thought for her. You want me to remember you at your loveliest. Oh, Rielle. He laughed, a silky fall of sound. Your beauty is beyond anything of this world, whether you appear before me in dirty rags or in a gown woven of stars.

She hesitated, leaning against a wall. She tried to gather her breathing into a steady rhythm.

You’re feeling frightened, he observed.

I am feeling many things. She realized she had heard nothing from Ludivine. Have you hurt her? If you have, I’ll kill you.

No. I am hiding you. His voice curled, delighted. The little rat thinks you’re asleep.

Don’t call her that. Her name is Ludivine.

That is the name she stole from your friend, he pointed out. Her true name is—

Not yours to tell, Rielle snapped.

He relented. Come find me.

Where are you?

You know exactly.

Yes, she did. She crossed one of the temple courtyards, climbed over the low stone railing, sank into a shallow white drift. She trudged on through the snow, following the trail left behind by her dreams.

• • •

She found him, at last, in a clearing hedged by cliffs. A green clearing, quiet and fresh, empty of snow. Birdsong trilled sweetly.

It was a lie of his creation, and he stood waiting in the middle of it.

“Change it,” she said, short of breath as she approached him. She could hardly speak—her side cramping, limbs numb with cold, ribs tight and hot around her heart. “I don’t want to see your lies. I want to see the truth.”

At once, the warm green clearing disappeared from her mind. Instead, Corien stood before a set of sheer cliffs, at a cave mouth piled high with snow.

He lowered his hood, revealing himself to her—his white face, his pale-blue eyes, snowflakes melting in his hair.

She ran for him, forgetting herself, forgetting the cold and her exhausted body and the fact that she wanted to flee from him as utterly as she wanted to touch him.

He opened his arms to her, just as he had in her dreams, and when she stumbled against him, he enveloped her in his cloak. She clutched his coat; it was stiff with cold. Drunk on his nearness, her head spinning and her knees hardly able to hold her up, she reached for his face, hands burning inside her gloves. She ripped them off with her teeth, let out a soft cry of frustration, and then her bare hands were on his cheeks, her thumbs smoothing over the sharp turn of his jaw.

“You’re here,” she whispered, smiling through her tears, hating herself even as she rejoiced to feel his body pressed against her own. “You’re here, and I’m here, and I shouldn’t be.” She wiped her face, her hand shaking. “God help me.”

“God has no place here,” Corien murmured, and then lowered his mouth to hers.

She stretched up onto her toes to meet him, hooking her arms roughly about his neck. He opened her mouth with his tongue, lifted her against him, moved swiftly to steady her against the cave wall. The sharp stone dug into her back, lighting it up with pain. Her heartbeat howled in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the storm, and when he wound his fingers in her hair and sharply tugged her head back, exposing her neck to his hot, seeking mouth, Rielle cried out a wordless plea.

He looked up at her, dark hair falling over his eyes, pale eyes glittering. “Shall I stop?”

Stop? Stopping was unthinkable. Stopping was death. But suddenly it occurred to her how he knew that she liked to be kissed this way, with fingers roughly twined in her hair. Her stomach clenched, and she pushed herself away from him.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please stop.”

He released her, watching as she stumbled away, collecting herself.