Kershov had been seething with destructive madness for moons—but the recent return of his Queen and the successful kidnapping of Kobato had suffused him with a healing triumph. The cracked parts of his brain that had leaked anger and viciousness like oil slowly came back together; the shattered bars of his inner ice prison had reformed stronger than before, keeping his secret monster at bay. He was back in control. All his plans and designs were his own, without the humiliating necessity of entertaining the beast he hid from sight. The white demon no longer worried about accidentally harming any of his precious soldiers. As he relentlessly patrolled his border, a satisfied sigh blew from between Kershov’s teeth. Yes . . . this was how things were meant to be . . .

The massive Ice King was preparing to rake his long talons down the bark of a tree when a tiny howl warbled through the air. He hesitated, the upper portion of his body twisting away from the side of the oak so that he could land on all four paws, head tilted in interest. Odd . . . had someone abandoned their baby on Abendrot’s doorstep? An army was a strange place for someone to seek asylum for their children; Ker’s military struck fear into the hearts of wolves across the country, hardly a nursery pack. Nevertheless, he stalked toward the source of the call, hackles smooth and flat along the vast expanse of his spine, muzzle pointed straight ahead to catch the little one’s scent.

His single onyx lantern caught her quickly. She stood out like a miniature flame amidst the dark forest undergrowth, sunlight creating a ginger halo about her puppy form. A faint tang of blood flavored her signature—ah, her paws were injured. Poor dear. At least she had some fight in her, though. Kershov wasn’t sure how many pups that hadn’t been born within Abendrot’s walls could stomach traveling so long that their pads split.

“What are you doing here all by yourself, dear?” Kershov extricated himself from the embrace of many shadows, all at once materializing as a colossal ivory statue before the pup. He made no effort to hide the ravaged side of his face where his muzzle had been all but shorn away, glittering daggers exposed in a permanent grin. “I’m afraid you’ve got to be a little taller to be a soldier.”