Milo jerked awake as if someone had forced her to the surface, her maw wide with a rapidly pulled in breath, her tiny bodice instinctively pushing closer to Kershov’s impressive warrior bulk. In response, the Ice King stiffened like a marble statue, his expression carefully passive. “Welcome back,” he rumbled dryly. Part of him wanted so badly to stand up and move away, to reestablish distance and personal space—yet for some reason he remained curled around Milo, sharing her shivers as if they were familiar packmates. What am I doing? Why am I doing it? Was the winter dragon attempting to prove something to himself right now? Obsidian windows continued peering down at the grey-dusted damsel, blank, until she made a lame attempt at a joke that had him snorting and glancing back toward the ocean.

“I’m used to dealing with the cold. Comfort is not the first of my priorities when choosing a territory from which to rule.” Kershov stated this as if he had personally decided for his homeland to shift toward the sea—as if he had been the sole architect in designing Uyaraut’s landscape. And why not? Something had told him this was his pack, the very same place he had marched into not long ago, only transformed and relocated. He instantly felt a fearsome protectiveness of the ragged black cliffs cutting up the sky, of the waving grasses, the pale sand, the rushing blue waves. Uyaraut called to him. Eventually, Ker had to answer. “And I don’t know what you mean—what other way? From the ocean? From the land?” Now he abruptly stood up, tearing his warmth away from Milo’s trembles, and he glared down at her with frigid arrogance. A silent reminder that although they had survived the river together, they were still strangers—and they were now in his kingdom. “You insult me.” How DARE you insinuate my kingdom is less than perfect. “Don’t let your ignorance change my mind about bringing you here. Or preventing you from drowning.”

Her presumptuous questions grated on nerves scraped raw from their long swim. “I’m not sure—are you up for a meandering hike through an unfamiliar territory?” Words meant to scathe and dominate. To build distance between them. A wall that Milo would not easily climb. Without waiting for her to shuffle to her paws, Ker started marching toward the sea, tossing his crown back to howl at the sky and call his pack to him. Please let them all be okay. Please let them still be here.