The cold bit deep, sharp as a dagger through my armor. My vision blurred, my limbs heavy, but I forced myself to keep moving. The battle had gone to hell—betrayal, bloodshed, a war not yet won. I should have died on that battlefield. Perhaps I still would.

Each step sent fire through my body. Blood seeped from the wound in my side, trailing behind me, marking my path in the snow. My fingers trembled, numb from the cold, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I was a king—meant to stand tall, meant to be unyielding. But here I was, barely standing at all.

The princess. The arranged marriage. The duty I had never wanted but could not refuse. It all seemed so far away now. The only thing that mattered was surviving the night.

The wind howled in my ears, a cruel, mocking thing. My knees buckled, the ground rushing up to meet me. Snow cradled me like a deathbed, freezing against my skin. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight it anymore.

So this is where it ends.

But then—warmth. A voice, soft but urgent. Small hands grasping at me, trying to pull me from the grave the snow was digging for me. I wanted to speak, to tell them to leave me be, that I was beyond saving. But my lips wouldn’t part.

The world shifted. I wasn’t outside anymore. Firelight flickered behind my eyelids, and a faint scent—lavender, herbs, something warm—lingered in the air. A gentle touch pressed against my forehead, cool against my burning skin. Someone moved beside me, murmuring words I couldn’t quite grasp.

I tried to fight the darkness, to open my eyes, but it swallowed me whole.