We are all dying.

The water turns colder. The pain turns numb. It all turns numb. My mind flicks in and out.

I am a breath away from breathlessness.

From the great beyond.

From nothing.

From death.

I muster a last bit of fight. I lift my arm and pound against the ice freezing between me and air. Me and sky.

Pain shoots through my wrist. The ice doesn't move. It is unbreakable. It surrounds me.

Warmth.

Like a small ball of fire at the pit of my stomach. But it spreads, reaches out for my extremities, filling me with delicious heat. I look up, into the ice, and I lift my hands. They glow a silver light, and they send their heat outwards—breaking through the ice and bringing me to air.

Breathe.

In. Out.

***

Breathe!

Choking.

Gagging.

Lungs burn. Throat burns.

Someone is holding my head. A voice, deep and strong, is telling me to breathe. To live. To stay.

I vomit all the water that ever was out of my mouth.

And then I can breathe. And his face is over mine, a wry smile on his lips. His green eyes crinkled in humor. "Good girl, Princess. Can't have you dying on me yet."

***

I don't know how much time has passed, but I awaken in a dark space. My body shudders, ice still penetrating my nerves, despite the fire that blazes beside me.

***

There is an animal here with me. But I don't feel scared. He is big. Fierce. A white tiger with black stripes. I think he even purrs.

***

The tiger is gone and the man with the secret eyes is back. He always smiles when I open my eyes, and his voice always soothes me. Warm. Caressing. Safe.

***

"Where the hell am I?" I push myself up from the hard ground and nearly knock myself silly on a stone protruding from the wall of a cave.

I could swear I saw the tiger, but when I blink it is the man, sitting with a stick beside the fire, watching over me. "Who are you?" I demand, trying not to get too lost in his green eyes. Dear gods those eyes. Where do you even get eyes like that? Is it some sort of spell? Where can I learn it?

Doesn’t matter. I need answers. I need to find my troop. If anyone else survived.

When I sit up, the furs fall off me, exposing my nudity.

The man with the eyes does not avert his gaze.

I glare at him, but don't attempt to cover up. "Where are my clothes?" I ask.

He points his head to the side of the cave where my clothes are strung up on cords to dry near the fire. He stands, though he can't stand all the way up—he's too tall and would knock his head—and walks over to the clothes, testing them before pulling them off the line. "They aren't fully dry, but they're better than nothing," he says, his voice deep and smooth. "For now."

He tosses them to me and turns around while I dress. I hate putting on damp clothes, but I have no choice at the moment, so I finish as quickly as possible.

"You can turn around now," I say. "Besides, I assume you're the one who undressed me, since we're the only two people here."

He faces me again and nods. "You would have frozen in your clothes. I saved your life."

I blink, and remember the feeling of drowning. Of freezing. Of breaking through the ice. Then, nothing.

I believe him. "Thank you. I didn't want to die just yet."

"Better places to be?" he asks.

"As a matter of fact, yes." I glare at him. "I must return to Stonehill as quickly as possible. It's life or death. And I must find my people. The troop I was traveling with. Surely I can't be the only one to survive?"

He's silent, his gaze unwavering.

"I'm the only one who survived?"

He nods once. "I'm sorry. You were the only one left to save by the time I arrived."

I look around as I pull on my cloak. "I must leave. Now. Where's my sword?"

The man pulls my sword out of the scabbard hanging from his hip and spins it in his hand. "It's a beauty. True artistry and craft went into the making of this."

I cross my arms over my chest. "I know. I'm the one who made it."

He raises an eyebrow. "Impressive. I'd heard rumors the bastard daughter of the King had a knack for metal work. I didn't put much stock in it."

My laugh comes out like a croak. "You really have elevated ideas of who I am. I'm nothing. A Shade like the rest."

That's when I take a closer look at my savior. At the white fur cloak spilling down his back. At his ears. "You're Fae."

He bows. "At your service, Princess."

"Stop calling me that. I'm no more a princess than you."

"Surely someone misses you?"

"The only one who'd miss me if I was gone is about to be hanged, if he hasn't been already."

Something changes in the man's face. "Would this by chance be one of the princes?"

"Yes. Fen, Prince of War. My brother."

"And he's dead?"

"He's scheduled for execution. Which is why I need to go. Now." I hold out my hand for my sword, but he doesn't move to hand it over.

"Here's my dilemma, Princess. You're my ticket out of this shit hole. I was going to take you to the Seven Realms and sell you back to your family for a nice profit. But if what you're saying is true, then it's not the vampires I need to be negotiating with."

"What are you talking about?"