Adair ran a hand over the smooth dome of the gray fox perched on the throne's arm. It nuzzled against her skin, but its eyes never quite strayed from the form of the uneasy Brenna standing a few feet away. Adair didn't blame the fox. She didn't trust her sister, either. And she trusted the brooding husband even less. She wished her aim had been truer.

"Are you willing to consider our offer?" Brenna asked, her voice too loud even in the huge chamber.

Adair took her time with a shrug, her hand trailing along the fox's back. She felt at home in this ice castle, not like when they were younger and she was the outcast. Here, it was all hers. She'd made this giant of ice, and these wild animals listened to her words. Brenna was not in charge here.

She didn't like the idea of troops marching through her lands, despite their supposedly being there only to forge a quicker path to the ice plateaus. Her mountains had been empty for years, untouched and unspoiled. She didn't like the king of Anjeluund, and she doubted that she'd like his soldiers any better.

Her mouth opened to test her sister a bit more, see how much they were willing to spend for the privilege of the mountain passes. She wasn't entirely sure she'd grant it to them, but she wanted to see what they'd pay. But before she could get a word past her lips, Silver hesitantly stepped forward from the shadows he seemed so adept at hiding in, and faced Brenna.

"Where did you say Morna was again?" he asked.

It was an odd question, and Adair looked at him with her brow furrowed. It wasn't like him to ask such strange questions, especially to Brenna, who had been more than a little antagonistic to him as children. Yet he stood in that alert posture that usually meant a blizzard was coming or the wolves were hunting the reindeer in starving packs.

Brenna smiled a little too quickly, a nervous laugh escaping her in a bubble. "At home. Like I said."

Adair's eyes trailed over Brenna's shoulder to Robbin, taking in the sour and dark expression on his face. He made no attempt to hide it, and when Brenna noticed she tried to cover it up with even more forced cheerfulness. "She loves Latterstill, but I think she preferred the country manor better."

Something wasn't right. Adair motioned for Silver to come to her side. He leaned in, and Adair whispered to him while staring at Brenna and Robbin.

"What is it?"

Silver's eyes lingered on the Anjeluund royalty for a moment, before he turned his head away and brought his lips to Adair's ear. "I don't trust them. They are not telling the truth about Morna, or maybe something to do with her. He looks as if he's prowling wolf, and she the night that hides him."

Adair nodded, and Silver pulled back.

"I want to confer with Silver over this issue," she said, standing. "We will be back shortly with an answer for you. Please wait here. The wolves aren't trained for strangers walking about in places they shouldn't."

With that warning, Adair and Silver quit the throne room, leaving Robbin and Brenna nervously eyeing the wolves that still sat cluttered around the dais.

"Where are we going?" Silver asked, his voice a bit strained. Adair didn't have the time to wonder why, as she was setting a course to the staircase as quick as she could.

"I want to locate Morna, see what is really going on with her." She took the steps two at a time, her furs dragging against her legs. Silver jogged behind her the rest of the way, down the halls, toward that familiar lookout room. "I wouldn't be surprised if Brenna had left her behind with their aunts."

Adair pushed open the ice door to the room, marching to the bowl in the center. It seemed as if she'd spent so much time in here recently, called in to observe the sudden influx of those who wanted to gain access to her lands. And now she was going to look beyond her frozen tundras and into the lands beyond. She'd not done such a thing in years, ever since Silver's eyes had lingered on the scenes and greenery too long. Even now she almost felt like sending him from the room, banning him from seeing those images from the outside world. Yet, she knew he would only sink further into the bog he couldn't seem to escape if she sent him away. So, with a deep breath, she waved her hand over the bowl.

It took the magic a long time to locate Morna. Adair's powers were of the North, and wherever Morna was, it was far, far away. Her magic felt thin and brittle as it wandered farther away, searching, searching, searching. The shimmering water blurred and smeared, like they were in the sled, only no sound accompanied it. Adair bit her lip, her hand shivering a bit as she felt the cold of her powers start to leach into her veins.

Finally, the blurring in the water slowed, taking but a few more moments to solidify into something visible. They looked down in a gray room at the sparse furnishings. Adair did not boast much furniture at all in her castle, but she had the option of changing the architecture whenever she wanted. This room, however, looked so utterly bland and plain that she wondered how someone could even sleep in it without having the life sucked out of them.

In one corner a strange, rigid chair faced a large window. Another chair, this one more like a normal piece one might find in a home, pressed up against the wall. Then a cot, seemingly empty until the mess of blankets shifted.

Adair leaned in, even though it wouldn't adjust her vision. She twisted her wrist, the image slowly floating down from the ceiling, closer to the bed. This did not look like a palace, or at least it didn't look like a room that the sister of the queen would occupy. Adair began to have doubts that her magic had gone to the right place, when a sudden bright light cut across the floor as the door opened behind Adair's field of vision. A man came into view, wearing a white coat, his hair dark and his movements furtive. Adair narrowed her eyes, watching as he sat on the edge of the cot and began to shake the lump there. It rolled over, a frail arm appearing, covered in bruises.

Then Morna's face appeared from the lump of blankets, and Adair drew in a hissing breath between her teeth. Her little sister, now grown, looked more akin to a winter tree than a girl. Her red rimmed eyes focused on the man in the white coat, widening in fear for a moment, before turning dull and heavy. There was no sound at the moment, but Adair didn't need to hear what they were saying. She could see what conditions Morna lived in. Wherever this place was, whether it was in the castle or in the aunts' house, or all the way in the barren wasteland deserts, Morna was not a cherished and beloved sister. Brenna had shipped her away, and Adair was fairly certain she knew the reason why. It was always the reason that Brenna had for being terrible to both or either of them. They were the unwilling conduits of strange powers, ones they couldn't control. Brenna hated that. Hated the strangeness, the way it marked them as different.