Winter tightens its hostile grip on my territory. The mountains have been bombarded by blizzards each night, and the last was no exception. Luckily, Alexei was able to traverse the fresh snowfall now piling under the evergreen canopies, but, until tomorrow morning, I must manage alone. A crispness has enveloped my keep, and the stone walls are ice cold. Firewood supplies diminish; the keep has enough to get by, but my people do not have such an excess.

My body turns cold as though the God has already taken my blood in exchange. Alexei said no more — rightfully so — but that cannot justify my people's suffering. I write a message to Alexei instead and query about a possible lumber transport if his reserves allow it. He should be arriving at his territory soon, but my messenger won't reach him until sundown. The sun is setting much too early, restricting travel for those even fierce enough to conquer the snow, and it can be impossible to climb out of deep powder once fallen in.

I walk along the upper hallways alone and stop at Tabitha's old chamber doors, yet another abandoned apartment in this keep. The key to it is on the same ring as my childhood chamber's key, and I am the first to unlock it since Tabitha's exile. I do so with a clear head and shut the door behind me. I don't want any passing housekeeper or servant to peer inside.

The curtains are drawn, so I open them to chase away the shadows, but all sunlight is diminished by cloud cover. Dust floats in the air around the windows and has begun to coat the room. Everything is exactly as we left it; she didn't have time to take these secrets with her to her grave. Against the windows, her dressing table is covered with vials, trinket boxes, and jewelry. The center drawer is open halfway, and among her silver and gold rings and earrings is my much larger knife.

Tabitha kept the dagger Alexei threw at my feet — the very one she tucked under my sleeping mat. The God armed me with this — what was meant for protection against Alexei and his men — and set me on stage to be an antagonist even greater than the villain I had made Alexei in my head. Maybe the God could have helped me somehow as he whispered he would before I left the cover of my tent.

I was nearly the bad one. Then the bond changed my mind.

Bundles of herbs hang along the walls, scenting the musky air. On a work surface beneath, jars of herb mix both pulverized and not sit unlabeled and unused. I take one and removed the lid; the smell tickles my nose and urges me to sneeze, so I seal the jar and leave it with the others. Additional jars filled with salts and unknown liquids line the shelves in front of her books. I remember her drawing circles with the salt like a transcendent paintbrush. She bridged us to His world, and I was always her offering.

I cross the room to her desk. Tabitha's velvet sack of seeing stones is spilling the future onto the tabletop. I pick one stone up and study its symbol though it means nothing to me. Perhaps this stone was the one that told me to increase my men along the lower bank during mine and Alexei's first battle — my turning point in our packs' war. Or maybe it was the stone that warned me of matehood just before my eighteenth birthday; a message I disliked for its threat to Tabitha and my plan.

We were supposed to rule the pack together, use my bond with the God and her skills as a witch to be a new sort of threat, and it worked so long as I didn't know the truth.

Was this the stone that solidified Tabitha's fate?

I leave the stone where I found it and advance my investigation to an open book. The pages are rough with speckles of green, yellow, and red, like pieces of plants and flowers. She must have made this book herself. The writing is her hand, done so with the quill resting in the slope of the binding. I cannot help but read from the top of the page.

My God says again, He wants Brea to kill her mate, but He underestimates the dominion of their bond. I know she will not be capable of it until her will is taken. Even so, she will not love Him. I pray He does not blame me for this. She will be what she is meant to be, but my God is stubborn and particular in His processes. He longs for what was and what can never be, and He desires it to be made tenfold.

I turn the pages to read further into the past, but some are recipes, rituals, and songs, and others are written with His letters. In between these practices of faith seem to be brief moments of confession. I read another:

I trust my God, but my jealousy overcomes me. I bled for five years only to give Him to another, to sustain myself with __ so I can live a fourth lifetime serving her. I do not know whether I hate Brea for being what I could not be, or whether I hate myself for my inadequacies. I will always remember the night He told me to bring Him another. For five years He told me I would be enough, but I should have known better. Like the women before, nothing changed within me, and so I must live to see the day Brea changes. If she does, I will want to kill her, but I know my duty is now the opposite. Once she kills her mate—

I lift the book and hold it by its leather cover, fingering the pages, not caring if they tear. Only one word is unreadable for me — something written in His tongue that defies death.

Once she kills her mate, she may try to take her own life. She will need me, so I must release this envy. If I cannot be His maiden, then I will bring her forth.

The binding bends under my frigid grasp. I hold the book open against my chest and leave the apartment. The keys drop from my hand when I try to lock the doors, so I stoop and snatch them and hurriedly try again, always racing after the truth though it often deceives me.

I read from more random pages as I proceed to my city gate. These words are the closest I have come to Tabitha's reality, and even though they sound painfully unlike her — the person who called me sister, who guarded me through the night — I continue to read.

It is clear that the God is looking for a woman to change, and Tabitha stayed with me to see if that woman is me. She didn't want to siphon my Alpha power or protection. She wanted to be close to my tormentor. Little did I know I wasn't safe when the God would finally fade into black smoke — Tabitha was there when he could not be.

All she had to do was close her eyes, and I'm sure the God was there listening in her head.

I reach the flight of stairs descending into the main hall and stop to finish the last sentence of a God-praising paragraph written months ago.

If she ruins the world, so mote it be.

A small sniffle reaches my ear from below. I shut the book, tuck it under my arm, and walk down the steps. A hunched figure sits on the bench in front of the hall's largest window, looking through the frost built up along the grilles. Red hair drips down her back in fallen strands.

Edith is the only red-haired girl in this keep.

"Does the winter depress you?" I ask and step over the bench to sit with her. I place the book beside me and look out. The view is of my city blanketed in snow. All interesting details I like to spot on the city's rooftops are obscured, and the snowfall hides the forest and fields nestled down the mountain.

Edith wipes her face before looking from her lap. "No. I like the snow."

"There's plenty on the terrace to play with."

She nods and wipes again.

"If it isn't the winter that upsets you, then it must be Lady Iyana."

"Lady Iyana is fine," Edith says while cracking a smile. "She's just misunderstood, that's all."

I admit, "It's lonely in this keep. We're warm and fed, but there isn't anyone here. Not because they want to be."

Housekeepers, cooks, servants, and guards are here only because I can afford them. My advisors had to be conjured from the underworld, and Edith is only here because she has nowhere else to go, but I won't remind her of what she already must know.

"I miss my mother. Well, I miss having a mother — a family. She wasn't very kind, but she was there."

"It's nice to have people there."

"Yeah."

"But that doesn't mean you will never have people there for you again. Now you are here, learning, developing skills, and yes, it is lonely, but once you're finished, the world is yours."

"How?"

"How? Do you know who you are talking with, Edith? Let me enlighten you by saying you are a product of my keep and my name. Surely you can't keep your mother's name and get very far, so I'll... make you my cousin. Edith Pryor. And with the name of a good, powerful family comes luxuries. Edith Pryor has a dowry and an inheritance waiting for her after her schooling."

Edith's stare doesn't waver. "You mean it? I'm Edith Pryor now?"

"Yes, I do. Besides, you don't have a dress shop to inherit anymore."

"What happened to it?"

"Well, if looters haven't stripped it bare, then whatever's left will be searched or confiscated. The building will then be turned into a small orphanage if that's alright with you."

Her smile brightens. "That'll be good. I like that."

"Good. You don't seem like much of a seamstress, anyway."

She shakes her head in agreement.

"Now, I know you've been snowed into this keep, but I'm positive you haven't found all of its mysteries yet."

"There are mysteries?"

"Hidden doors, passageways, rooms — it's quite entertaining to find them all. I'm not even sure I have."

"I don't believe you. You really haven't?"

"Not a chance," I say and stand. "I'm on my way into town for Alpha business. You'll be alright?"

Edith stands as well. "I'm going to start looking."

I grab the book and tuck it back under my arm. "You'll have to tell me what you find."

She sets off and peers over her shoulder. "I hope I find something then."

~•~

Snow blows onto the temple floor as I escape the storm outside. The entry is dim, but the iron chandeliers above light a path into the temple's belly. The scent of ginger and cloves warms my nose, and I follow it into the grand hall. No one is here — each pew curving around the raised, painted moon is empty. I set Tabitha's book down and step onto the platform, staring up at the large glass dome though the moon is hidden.

I remember my moment here on the winter solstice when the moon aligned with the temple and shone on me like a shower of starlight. It was the beginning of the season before the Goddess bonded me, and just for a moment, I was at peace.

So I return now though Her light is its weakest, and I lower to my knees. I place my palms on the painted moon and bow my head. "Goddess, I come to you — I come to you in a time of fear. I am afraid of what might happen to me by His hand."

Blood rushes to my head, so I close my eyes. Wind and snow blow against the stained glass windows; it's all there is to listen to. I breathe in.

"I don't want to hurt Alexei — please."

"Alpha Pryor?"

I lift my head and straighten my spine. My priestess Eudelene waits in the archway of the back hall and watches from there. "Yes," I say, "I know the temple is closed in this weather, but I was hoping for an exception."

"Alpha, you've come alone. Is there anything I can do for you? There's hot tea and cakes in my study, and a fire to warm yourself. Gingerbread, too."

"Can you bless me?"

"Oh? Yes. Of course." She raises a finger. "Just a moment."

I move to my feet while Eudelene disappears into the temple's back rooms. She returns with a silver ewer of moon water with a boar hair brush strapped to its side and a bundle of smoking sage sitting in a sand dish. I remove my cloak and toss it to the edge of the platform where I left Tabitha's book. She places the ewer down and presents the sage. She holds the bundle from her body then ropes the smoke around me, circling me and lifting my arms to make sure the smoke saturates. "I love the smell," she mumbles.

Eudelene dabs the burning end into the sand dish and then exchanges it for the ewer. "Is there a reason you need to be blessed, Alpha?"

"I feel far from the Goddess."

"That is a frightening feeling, but you know the Goddess is always with you; there is no near or far. Her love is absolute."

She dips the bristles into the ewer then douses me. Moon water drips across my cheeks and fuses with my dress, cold but thankfully not burning. "Thank you, Eudelene."

"Have you given your share of prayer or would you like more privacy under Her light?"

I look up at the moon dome. "No. I've—"

The temple doors clamor open and closed down the corridor into the entryway. Heavy footsteps echo, a worthy match to the winter winds, then a guard from my city gate appears with a raised hand. Between his fingers is a slip of parchment, and he says, "A messaged arrived for you, Alpha."

I leave my priestess' side to retrieve the message. It must be a reply to my lumber request. I unfold it and read: Gaius returned Karim prematurely with no explanation. The plans and preparations for our temple are incomplete.

"I must go," I say as I stash the message in my dress and grab Tabitha's book and my cloak. "Thank you, again, Eudelene. Stay warm and well."

"The Goddess is with you, Alpha. Goodnight."

I throw my cloak over my shoulders and exit the temple with my guard. He opens the temple doors for me and ensures I do not slip and fall on our way to my keep. He walks in front of me to shield me from the snowfall, but flakes still find their way into my hood.

Alexei didn't ask me to return in his message, yet the desire to builds in my chest. He is supposed to get me in the morning, but Tabitha's writings have infiltrated my conscience, and I can't brave this night alone.

I know I shouldn't run alone — especially in such conditions — but I can't help myself. All I want is to be near Alexei again where these fearful and rancid thoughts can wash away. He may be upset once he hears of my trip, but I'll make it better.

All I have to do is get to him.