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She tucked the furs more carefully around Alexander and stepped into the hallway, leaving the lantern still glowing on the floor.

The lethal cold seemed to hit her anew as she followed Wirkelshen down the corridor, and she shivered convulsively. The walls glowed softly, but the light was so dim that it was still nearly impossible for her to follow the ice goblin until he reached back to take her gloved hand in his. Soon they had passed through several more corridors and a small, open courtyard. Wirkelshin knocked on a door made of ice.

It opened smoothly, and Arenenak ushered them in hurriedly. “The prince is sleeping,” Dakjudr said, her voice like the whisper of snow sliding over rocks. She handed Gytha a plate of chunks of well-marbled red meat and fish, both raw, as well as cheese and bread.

“What is this?” Gytha asked in surprise.

“Seal and char. It is tasty raw.” Dakjudr had a vague question in her eyes, as if evaluating whether Gytha would protest. “We don’t use fire here often, and I do not want to court the queen’s attention while the prince is ill.”

Gytha bit her lip and looked toward the corner where Eshkeshken lay atop an enormous sealskin with one thin arm over his eyes. “What is wrong with him?” she asked. “Will he get better?”

“He is waiting for you to free the bear prince, if you can, before he challenges the queen openly. His vengeance can wait a little longer to ensure that the bear is fully freed of his enchantment.”

Gytha set the plate down on the table and stepped closer to the prince’s bed. She knelt beside him. “Are you awake?” shewhispered. Her eyes were gritty with fatigue; it must be morning by now, as much as it was ever morning.

He coughed and turned on his side away from her, curling one arm under his head, without really waking up. His breathing rasped painfully.

Dakjudr said, “Eat, Gytha, so you can be strong for the challenge. Were you able to speak with the prince?”

“No.” She choked down the strange, unpleasant meal and told the ice goblins of the bear prince’s sleep that was almost death.

“What can I do?” she asked at last. “What can I do if he’s kept sleeping by magic?”

The ice goblins conferred among themselves for some time in their own language so quietly that even with the prince’s magic upon her, Gytha could catch only a few words. Finally, Dakjudr said, “They will try to understand the magic by tonight and devise some counter. For now, rest. You must be strong and brave for what comes.” She led Gytha to a smaller room in the back where there was a pallet of blankets and a strange, crystalline cup of water that ought to have been frozen. “You can sleep here. I borrowed blankets for you. Will you be warm enough to live?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Gytha settled down in the darkness and listened to Dakjudr slip quietly out of the room and close the door behind herself.

The whole world was cold and dark.

Would there ever be light and hope again?

For hours, Gytha drifted in and out of a restless sleep. The bear prince’s voice was hard to remember now; she remembered how she’d felt when she heard it, but not the exact tones. It was difficult to remember her father’s voice when he led the family in song, difficult to remember the laughter of the little ones. Brinja would be four years old now, almost five; she would be learning her letters and even embroidery. They had passed anentire summer without her, and it would be winter again at home. Did they have enough food for the long dark? Was Sigrid married already, since Gytha had not found a good husband who could help in time of need?

Gytha was not crying. But a few tears slipped down her cheeks and froze on the edge of her coat.

Too soon, Dakjudr woke Gytha with a hand on her shoulder. “Come eat. I am sorry it is not what you like, but it will keep your body strong.”

The ice goblins were gathered around a table carved of ice in the common room. They sat on chairs made of enormous bones; Gytha could not imagine what animal they had come from, but it must have been monstrous.

Eshkeshken had woken and sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression distant and his meal untouched. The others had nearly finished eating, and even Gytha had managed to swallow most of the raw meat she had been given.

“Your Highness,” said Wirkelshen at last. “You ought to eat. You will need your strength for what comes.”

The ice goblin prince blinked and nodded. “Yes. You are right.”

Gytha noted the deep shadows around his eyes and the white pallor around his lips. He looked even thinner and stranger than usual. She wanted to ask him if there was anything she could do, but he seemed to be focused inward, and she was not sure if he would welcome the question. Instead, she asked, “Did you find out anything about the magic?”

“Nothing useful. Try to wake him.”

A sinking feeling of hopelessness pressed upon Gytha, but she nodded. Once again Wirkelshen and Iphreshken led her to the bear prince’s chamber. The guards smiled coolly at them and allowed Gytha in alone, as before.

She found the lamp on the table again, so someone had moved it. Again she pulled off her gloves to light the jafliggi and then the lamp. The light was golden and bright, and the warmth of the flame flickered in sharp contrast to everything else about this strange world.

The bear prince was asleep in his pile of furs and blankets, and he did not react, much less wake, when Gytha spoke to him and shook his shoulder. Not even when she touched his icy cheeks with her warm hands. His skin was nearly as cold as Eshkeshken’s had been, but it was not right for a human to be so cold. Ice goblins could thrive with bodies like ice, but humans were meant to be warm.

Kneeling by him, she wept in frustration and anger. How could he die now, when she and Eshkeshken and Dakjudr had come so far to rescue him?

His injuries were serious, but they were not enough to kill him. At least she was reasonably sure of that. She pulled up his shirt and found no new injuries, but neither did she see any indication that his wounds had been dressed or treated.