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“How cruel they are to you!” she whispered furiously. “For the sin of refusing to marry a tyrant! She is beautiful, but that does not justify this. Not even for a queen.”

She rested her bare palm on his forehead. The cold was like death. She caressed his dark hair. What a strange color! He must really be from far away, beyond the western mountains, because everyone she knew or had ever heard of had golden hair like hers, shading to silver as they aged. The thousand shades of gold, from the rich gold of summer sunlight to the palest gold of winter wheat, were lovely, and the silvers and grays that camewith age signified wisdom and understanding. But dark hair! That was strange and exotic.

There was something in the color dear to her already, unusual as it was, because it fit his face. The scruff of beard upon her palm caught her attention; only now had she noticed he had shaved. Perhaps the queen required it, because none of the goblins had a beard. Even his eyebrows were brown. She ran a finger over them gently. Was it wrong to touch him while he slept? It felt simultaneously invasive and innocent; she wanted nothing from him but for him to live.

Her hand was too cold; she would lose her fingers soon. Gytha bit her lip and pulled her thick glove back on, her fingers tingling. She bent to speak into Alexander’s ear.

“I haven’t given up, Alexander, so you shouldn’t either. Wake up, if you can.”

His pale face remained as still as death, so she tucked the furs and blankets around him again and stood.

She strode out of the room with her head high. Again, Wirkelshen was waiting for her, his expression grave. His arms were folded over his chest, and he gave the guards a quick nod before he led Gytha away.

She didn’t speak until they were back in the apartment with Eshkeshken, Dakjudr, and the others. The ice goblin prince sat on the floor with his gray head in his hands, and he looked up at her entrance.

“He didn’t wake, did he?”

Gytha shook her head. “There is something unnatural in it. He’s not well.”

The prince nodded as if he had expected this. “The queen has enmagicked him in a different way than before. Perhaps his food or drink.”

Wirkelshen nodded. “I spoke with the guards. One of them thinks it is the drink, and the other is sure it is the blankets.I told them to tell the bear prince when he wakes that what they suspect, and if he will try to stay alert, we will do what we can for him.”

A strange, fraught silence followed this. Eshkeshken’s icy eyes flicked to Gytha and then back to Wirkelshen’s hard features. “I am surprised,” he said in a low voice. “I did not think you so trusting of the queen’s servants.”

“I wasn’t.” Wirkelshen bowed deeply in apology. “But the guard on the second shift, after Gytha entered the room, is my cousin, Karantikai; I hunted seal and fished with him a thousand times before he entered the king’s service. Like many of us, he suspected Javethai in the king’s death, if not your mother’s. He never approved of the bargain with the bear prince, but he did not see any way to help the unfortunate prisoner. When I told him of the queen’s new bargain with the bear prince, that the prisoner might be free if he chose Gytha publicly, Karantikai gave me what information he could.”

The ice goblin bowed again, as if a little afraid of what Eshkeshken might say.

Eshkeshken’s face contorted for a moment, and he pressed a hand to his chest, his breathing shallow and uneven.

“Your Highness?” Dakjudr asked.

“Don’t worry about it.” The prince’s voice was rough. “The drink is easy to avoid, but he will freeze without the blankets. I imagine the queen has enchanted those to keep him insensible; even if he wishes to remain alert, he cannot do so and live.”

Gytha said, “Can we get him other blankets? Where did mine come from?”

Eshkeshken looked at Arenenak, who answered, “Our people do not keep furs or blankets often, for we have little need of the warmth. These are borrowed from several friends around the city, and I know of no others.”

“I can give him mine,” Gytha said promptly. “My clothes are warm enough.”

The ice goblin prince looked at her for a moment, his expression difficult to read. “Barely. You would risk death for him yet again? You hardly know him, and he cannot possibly repay you as you deserve.”

Gytha’s cheeks heated, and the feeling was exacerbated by the frigid air. She wondered how obvious her blushing was. “I know he is good and kind and brave, and that he saved my family from a miserable death. I’m not doing it because I want anything from him.” She bit her lip and tried to hold Eshkeshken’s steady gaze without looking away. “I want to save him from the evil queen because he has been captive for so long, and he must feel so lost and lonely and forgotten.

“No one should feel that their existence doesn’t matter, least of all him. Out of his loneliness and despair, he still chose to be kind to me. How can I forget that and leave him in her power, knowing that I could have fought harder to free him?”

The ice goblin prince held her eyes a moment longer and then nodded, looking down at the floor of ice. He pressed a hand to his chest and coughed. “Sleep, then, if you can, and we will give him the blankets so that he may not freeze. If he keeps himself from the enchantment tonight, he may be able to speak and understand his peril and what he must do. For I wonder if she has not so enmagicked him that he remembers little or nothing of recent days other than the pain of the spears in his sides.”

Gytha swallowed, feeling colder than ever. “What about a needle and thread? Or sinew? I can make some of the blankets into clothes for him. Anything would be better than what he has now.”

Eshkeshken nodded and looked to Arenenak, who disappeared for some time into the city before returning with asmall wooden box with a bone needle and a great quantity of fine thread.

Meanwhile, Dakjudr offered Gytha a plate of seal meat and whale blubber, both raw, with a faint crust of frost already forming over their surfaces. “Is this what the bear prince eats?” Gytha asked. Although she did not want to complain, the food was not to her taste in the slightest. Someday, she hoped, she would be able to make bread again with her sisters and teach them how to score the tops of the loaves to make lovely patterns. Warm, fresh bread with a good crust and butter melting into it was a homely delight.

Eshkeshken gave her a flat look. “I’d be surprised if she’s fed him in days. She wants him weak and bewildered, not clear-headed, at least until she has gained his cooperation. Bring a plate of food for him tonight, and you might save his life.”

Gytha nodded, feeling her heart twist with sympathy. Cold, raw meat and fat were unfamiliar and unpleasant, but they were kindly meant and generously offered.