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He did not let go of my hand until we came to the courtyard where a white horse grazed. His coat shined beneath the sun, so bright it was almost blinding.

“I did not know you had horses,” I said. I had seen no stables since I had arrived.

“I don’t,” he said. “Balthazar is wild, but he has agreed to help us today.”

“You do not keep animals, but you keep humans?”

“Animals are pure of heart,” he said. “Humans are not.”

I did not disagree. I pet Balthazar’s nose.

“Have you ridden before?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said, and he stepped back as I mounted Balthazar. He followed and settled behind me, arms circling my waist, hands smoothing down my arms to my hands.

“Do you know the way?” he asked.

“I know the tree. I go there every day,” I said, then corrected myself. “I used to. It is an old willow by the wide river.”

“Hold on,” he said. Our fingers tightened into Balthazar’s mane, and the horse bolted into the Enchanted Forest. I could not tell if Casamir guided the steed or if he knew the way, but he carried us deeper into the woods on a smooth and even gait, dodging limbs and bramble walls. Soon we came to a river, which Balthazar followed until it forked, at which point he made a hard left, right into the river.

The water splashed us, and I gasped at how frigid it was. Casamir chuckled near my ear but said nothing as Balthazar waded through to the bank and continued galloping through the forest, always within sight of the river, which curved like a snake around tall trees and between hills. There came a moment when the surroundings looked familiar and I realized I knew this place.

My heart rose into my throat as the willow came into view, its long, slender branches sweeping the ground like a cascading waterfall.

Balthazar slowed to a stop and Casamir dismounted. I followed, and once my feet touched the ground, I raced to the tree. The ground was disturbed by an elaborate root system, making it difficult to stand beneath its eaves, and yet I managed to walk the perimeter until I found the spot where Winter had once lain. But there was no sign that anyone had risen from these roots.

I felt panicked as I fell to the ground and tried to pry the roots apart, but they would not give.

Then Casamir’s hands covered mine and I stilled, meeting his dark gaze.

“Feel her,” he said and pressed my palms flat to the roots.

“Ican’t,” I said, my voice too high, my head too light.

“Breathe, sweet creature,” he said. “Your sister is not far away.”

My chest rose and fell rapidly for a few seconds longer before I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of Casamir’s hands atop mine and the roughness of the willow’s roots beneath my palms.

Then I felt it—a faint pulse against my skin.

A heartbeat.

I opened my eyes.

“She’salive.”

I met Casamir’s gaze, and I could not quite place the expression on his face. It was caught somewhere between kind and compassionate, and I was not prepared for how it would complement his beauty.

“I told you,” he said.

My brows lowered. “But…how long until she’s healed? It has been ten years.”

“The willow does not often heal mortals,” he said. “She likely only did because each of you have some fae blood.”

For the first time in my life, I was grateful for that little bit of blood.

“She may rise in a day or ten. She may rise long after you and I are dead and the world no longer looks the same.”