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It had never been more clear that he was not human.

She nodded, biting her lip. Was he angry? Did he blame her?

His smile widened a little, and she could see sharp teeth behind his thin lips. Even his lips were gray. “You. You did not beat me.” The words came out in a soft hiss, a snarl of cold fury masked in sardonic amusement. “The queen ordered it. The queen’s servants held me down and wielded the staff.”

“Aren’t you one of her servants too?” The question sounded silly the moment it slipped out.

He licked his lips and smiled, showing his teeth. “Not anymore.”

Gytha swallowed. “So you are not angry with me?”

He blinked twice, his gaze flicking over her face so quickly that she wondered what he was seeing. What decision hewas making.

“I am angry,” he said at last. “Angry enough to kill. Angry enough to die.” His strange, pale eyes held hers. “But not with you.”

When he volunteered nothing else, she said, “May I ask your real name? I guess it’s not Magni.”

His lips drew back in a faint smile, less bitter than the others. “My name is Eshkeshken.”

Gytha repeated it carefully, testing the sound of it. It sounded like ice crystals scraping against stone, and the sound fit him.

“The bargain is finished in two nights. Do not betray your friend after all this time.” His words were soft and serious. “What did he tell you?”

The bear appeared in the doorway at this moment, and he entered, his eyes fixed on Eshkeshken. He gave a low, rumbling growl.

“Do not look. Do not touch. Do not fear.” Gytha’s voice shook a little. She did not want to be afraid of Alexander, but the menace in his growl made her heart turn over.

The ice goblin turned to look at him, a thin, almost frail figure against the immense white bear, and then looked back at Gytha. “Good. Do not fear him. Thequeenlies.” His lips twisted in fury and scorn as he spoke of the queen. Then he bowed and stepped out of the room. The bear looked at Gytha and then padded into the corridor too, leaving her alone.

Gytha found herself trembling, as if the ice goblin had threatened her. His fury was terrifying. But he had not threatened her at all; if anything, she felt that he was an ally in some conflict she did not understand.

She could not sleep, so she was intensely aware when the stranger crept in, his steps soft and his movements careful. He lay down with a groan that barely reached her ears, and in a matter of a minute or two, she heard his breathing slow as sleep claimedhim. He sounded exhausted, like her father did when he’d been working on the trail for days, when merely breathing was an effort because every muscle ached.

“I don’t know all of what’s going on,” she whispered. “But I did this because the bear asked me to. Are you Alexander, too?”

He did not answer, and his breathing did not change.

“I’m glad I did it, but I’m glad it’s almost done. I’m lonely here. I wish you could answer me. It would be less lonely if I could hear another human voice.”

Still he slept.

The next day she barely saw Alexander or Eshkeshken, and the female ice goblin was nowhere to be seen, either.

But at bed time, Eshkeshken appeared in her doorway. “Put on your coat and boots,” he said in a low voice. “Hat, too. Gloves.” He handed her a pair of lambskin gloves.

She blinked at him. “To sleep? I’ll bake like a loaf of bread in an oven.”

His gray eyes flickered, and he said, “You gave me bread as a kindness. Take this as a kindness from me.”

She licked her lips and finally nodded.

He added softly, “In the morning, the year and day of nights will be done. You must be ready.” He nodded to her and slipped out of the room in his usual silence.

Bundled up in thick layers, she struggled to get beneath the covers, and sleep did not come.

Her nighttime visitor crept in with his usual care. He slipped beneath the covers, staying far from her, and soon his breathing grew slow and even as he fell into sleep.

Gytha grew drowsy, despite the oppressive heat of her many layers. At last, she began to fall into dreams.