SHANA

All thoughts of death and dismemberment fled from my head as I spy the sight below me. The city is a vision of crystal and ice, glittering in iridescent multicolored decadence. It's straight out of a movie, and I wonder briefly if I'm still trapped in the blizzard, experiencing a fever dream.

The entire place is a vision of grandiosity, a magical city. It's unbelievable, and yet, here I am. A roughhewn castle looms a little farther in the distance, its turrets so high they disappear into the fog covered peaks of the mountain behind it.

Below sits the city—Frostwynn, Penn said. It suits its name. I see beasts milling about, going into shops and restaurants. Giants of all shapes and sizes, all in varying shades of white and silver. Women carry bags. Men carry children. It's noisy and bustling, and in some ways, it reminds me of the home I'd left.

They may not be humans, but they're living, breathing, conscientious beings who love and lose just like we do. My worldview shifts in this moment. I always knew there were amazing, fantastical things in the world, but I never imagined I'd see something like this.

Penn nudges Wyn forward, and as the horse starts to move, the fear returns. He's boldly walking me into the city as if the threat of death is a mere suggestion. I stiffen in my seat. "Shouldn't we go another way?" I murmur.

The air is warmer here, and I realize my shivers have diminished to almost unnoticeable levels. Penn's cloak is still comfortable, but if it gets any warmer, I'll have to shed it. The thought of it sends a spear of fear through me. If I took the cloak off, I'd stick out like a sore thumb, so I tug it closer instead, ensuring my dark hair is tucked underneath the voluminous folds. The lower we go, the warmer it gets until my fingers and toes start to defrost, drawing a soft breath of relief.

The gates of Frostwynn loom in front of us, grandiose pillars of ice made of loops and decorative swirls. There's a faint shimmer to it, as if it operates via magic. Nothing would surprise me anymore.

As I glance around, I realize the surrounding forest and mountains protect the kingdom from inclement weather. They're obviously a hardy people, but even if this place receives the storm of a lifetime, their town will survive with minimal damage. Whoever built the place was clever.

I repeat my question about going in another way, but Penn's attention is focused forward. "Penn," I hiss, "just take me to your house. We can go through the stables. I don't mind hiding there."

Penn never told me what he did in this kingdom. His powerful body suggests work as a guard or a blacksmith. Perhaps he's someone from a humble background—a farmer or tradesman. Either way, he shouldn't risk his life for a stranger.

When he speaks, his voice is strong and resolute, the choice in it tugging at my emotions. "I've made my decision. The others will have to live with it."

I glance up at him, only to see his jaw clenched. A soft sigh escapes me. "But what if they kill me?" I ask.

I'm surprised when he laughs. "They can try." His words are ominous and send a shiver of foreboding down my spine.

"I'd rather they not try at all," I grumble mostly to myself. While his courage is admirable and impressive, it doesn't stop me from doubting the wisdom of this direct approach.

As we ride closer, I see two enormous Snow Beast sentries standing before the gates, strapped to the teeth with weapons. My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I lean back, trying to burrow into Penn.

Without a word, Alfryd spears his horse into a trot and rides toward the sentries. "Open the gates!" he barks.

I blink at the command in his voice. Who knew quiet Alfryd had it in him?

Penn and Agretha slide off the mounts. The female winks and leans close to me. "Nothing to worry about. Sit tight. Try not to freeze. Simple Snow Beast protocol. It shouldn't take more than a moment." If I wasn't staring directly at her, I might have missed the flicker of unease in her eyes.

She gives me a winning smile and falls into step beside Penn, leaving me astride Wyn, who shifts underneath me as if he's as uncomfortable as I am.

As I wait, my heart beating like a hummingbird, two other sentries approach from the side. There's nothing about their bearing or posture to alarm me, and I'm beginning to relax when I make eye contact with one. He begins to nod, but his eyes widen when he realizes what I am.

I resist the urge to take Wyn and flee, merely sitting there like a statue.

His eyes widen comically. "A human!" he blurts, raising his spear.

The other one grabs the spear, forcing it downward. "Are you daft?" he hisses. "You know the law. Don't overstep. The king will want to deal with her himself."

By now, my heart is on a full gallop. "The king?" I blurt. "What do you mean deal with? How does he deal with—?"

The sentry sneers at her. "You'll find out soon enough. They don't call him 'The Coldblooded' for nothing."

The two sentries turn away, finally leaving me in silence, and still possessing my head.

Penn returns a minute or two later, his eyebrows lifting as he sees my panicked state. "Shana?"

"He's going to kill me. The king! They said he's coldblooded—"

Penn frowns. "Who said that?" he interrupts.

I point to the retreating backs of the sentries. "Those guards!"

His expression turns thunderous, a glare forming on his handsome face. "Really?" he snarls. He falls silent for a beat. "Don't worry about the king," he says after a moment. "That's my job."

Screeching interrupted him, the towering gates slowly opening, exposing a stone paved main street, one of the few things not made of ice. Without a word, Alfryd rides through, leaving Penn and Agretha to follow.

Up close, the city is more fantastical than before. And much, much larger. Everyone and everything towers over me. The Snow Beasts are all at least a foot taller, and the buildings are so high I have to crane my neck up even while riding Wyn. Lively music comes from somewhere further into town, and I smell a dizzying array of food, drink, and other things I can't identify. It's a feast for my senses, and a mind-boggling look into another world.

I feel afraid, but I also feel lucky. How many other humans have seen these things? None, if Penn's right. His comforting presence resting behind me puts me a little more at ease, and I nestle into him as we ride.

Dozens of merchant carts line the edges of the street selling food and trinkets. I spy a beverage cart with a line wrapped around the street, happy, anticipatory expressions on the people in line. It's normal, in the way a Ren Faire feels normal to a human. Everything is foreign but familiar. Bakers, Blacksmiths, Carpenters, and consumers go about their business, but when they spot me, their steps slow, and they gawk. Soon, a shock wave ripples through the crowded town square. They've spotted me and, even mostly hidden under the cloak, realize what I am.

I stiffen, but Penn tightens his arm around my waist. "You're safe," his deep voice rumbles in my ear.

Their eyes are heavy on my skin, weighing me down and making it hard to breathe. I drop my eyes, hoping if I don't pay attention to them, they won't pay attention to me. The ripple of unease grows even as we pass them by, the word about the human in their presence traveling faster than our horses can walk. As we pass by the buildings, I hear the murmurs of whispers about humans and punishment, and the shivers I feel now aren't due to the temperature.

I hope we're close to his house, but I don't want to speak. I'd do anything to stop the attention on us, so I keep my eyes and lips shut. The stone on the road changes into something prettier, a clean white, glittering cobble, and I risk raising my eyes.

The castle I spied before looms in the distance, its icy spires higher than my eyes can see. It spans at least two acres of land and goes so far back toward the mountain that I can't see the end.

The king.

Penn can't possibly be riding toward the castle. Why would he take me there? I huddle against him, my eyes darting to the small side streets, hoping against all hope we're taking a shortcut and soon, we'll turn down one of them on the way to Penn's house. Then I could laugh away my fear and chalk this all up to one big joke. Maybe Penn is the groundskeeper for the king. Or a chef. But then he'd know more about cookies, wouldn't he? I'm spiraling into a Shana puddle.

Agretha, noticing my discomfort, reaches over her mount with one long, pale arm and pats my knee. "Don't worry, my dear. We're almost there." The words are meant to be comforting, but I can only stare at her mutely. She snorts with amusement, but I don't find it funny. Maybe it would be funny if I were seven feet tall with claws, but right now, all I can feel is afraid.

We grow closer to the castle with every clop of Wyn's hooves. Closer to the heart of Frostwynn.

Closer to my doom.

I swallow with a hard click in my throat and think about how to escape. But thoughts of Penn keep me from complete panic. He wouldn't save me only to throw me to the wolves, would he?

My heart tells me no, but my head is fickle, and it's throwing out a lot of true crime television scenarios. It would be a shame to die in a dirty wedding dress, wouldn't it? I'm close to a tailspin of emotion when I decide to ask the question. Honesty is always the best policy, right?

If I'm going to die, would I want to know in advance?

If there's hope of escape, yes, but I'm still trapped in an oversized, still damp wedding dress surrounded by Snow Beasts. The words die in my mouth, and I'm still hopeful even as we pass by each of those bright streets until we're left solely on the cobblestone path.

Soon enough, we arrive at the bottom of the castle, right where the front steps lead to a tremendous entryway with wrought iron doors and servants milling around.

My mouth goes dry. "Penn?" I rasp.

Wyn comes to an abrupt stop right by those stairs, and my breath comes out in a soft wheeze of fear. Agretha gives me a sympathetic look but says nothing.

Penn's presence is still a comforting weight against me, but who is he to stand against the king? The madness of this plan beats against my chest, and I itch to jump down and dash for the certain death awaiting me in the forest and the blizzard biding its time back at the château.

A crowd gathers near the stairs, Snow Beasts of varying sizes and genders dressed in strange finery. From them, a young child breaks free, his face fixed in a wide grin as he rushes toward us. No one is alarmed, so I try to relax, but even the child is almost my size. His face and mannerisms make him seem around eight or nine. He's...adorable, I decide. He skids to a stop not too far away, the smile widening his round face, and he lifts a finger to point at us.

"The king is back, and he brought a lady!"