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“Your Highness,” Dakjudr said gently. “Can you eat a little? Please?” She knelt before the prince and offered him a plate.

He nodded and took the plate with a tired smile. “Thank you.” She bowed her head to him.

No one could find scissors, but Dakjudr lent Gytha a sharp knife. Gytha spent some time figuring out how she would turn the blankets into clothes that would be as warm as possible. Trousers were challenging, but she made them with several layers, a drawstring waist, and cinches around the ankles to keep out the cold air. The coat was also made of several layers of fabric and left very long, so that with a belt it might keep even the worst drafts out. She knew how to make clothes, of course, but she had never been in such a rush to make something warm before. These were rough and unlovely, but at least they would be better than what he had.

Her eyes were bleary and she was beginning to fall asleep when Eshkeshken touched her shoulder.

“Sleep,” he said. “There will be time to work when you wake.”

So she went to the other room to sleep. She lay on the ice with one arm under her head and stared at the darkness. It still seemed strange that the bear was a human prince. But the scar on his face was clear evidence.

What would he be like as a human? He had instinctively put himself between her and the queen’s anger when the queen had come in a rage at the end of the bargain. His voice, at least his bear voice, was deep and calm, with quiet strength even when sorrowful. Would his human voice be as compelling as his bear voice, when it wasn’t rough with sleep? Would he remember her at all?

What if he thought she meant to capture him the way the ice goblin queen had, and resented her for it?

The sound of the ice goblins talking softly in their own language in the other room was a low, grinding background to her whirling thoughts.

Eventually she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Chapter 14

What was time, anyway? When Gytha awoke, she could not tell how much time had passed, or whether she was rested or exhausted. Everything was strange, and time felt like a strange, ephemeral thing, as insubstantial as the dust on a butterfly’s wings and as mysterious as the northern lights. She ate and continued sewing. Her stitches were hurried and perhaps a little uneven, but they were close together, so the seams would be strong and tight. As she sewed, she listened to the goblins talking among themselves. Eshkeshken lay with his back to the room on a single blanket, untroubled by the cold but obviously deeply unwell.

“What is wrong with him?” Gytha whispered to Dakjudr.

“Ice.”

Gytha felt this was not a clear answer, since there was ice everywhere for hundreds of miles in every direction, but she did not ask more.

At last, it was nearly time to go to the bear prince again. Eshkeshken was awake and alert, though he looked even worse than before. His eyes were deeply shadowed, and his lips were white. His straight, strong shoulders were hunched a little, and at times he pressed one hand to his heart, his eyes squeezed shut.

Dakjudr prepared a plate of raw meat for Gytha and another for the bear prince. When she offered Eshkeshken a similar plate, he muttered, “I can’t stomach it.”

Gytha hesitated and then, before she could talk herself out of it, put one hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you feel so bad.”

His silvery eyes flicked up to hers. He gave a short huff of laughter and muttered, “You are too soft and warm for this land. Go to your bear prince, and don’t worry about me.”

He stood and offered her a hand, as if to reassure her that he was not yet at death’s door.

The clothes were heavy, so Iphreshken carried them over one arm. Gytha had not used all the blankets for the clothes, so Dakjudr handed Wirkelshen the remaining blankets, which she had wrapped cleverly into an enormous bundle which he could sling over his shoulder. She gave Gytha the plate of food for the prince, piled high with raw meat, blubber, and fish.

Again, Gytha followed the ice goblins through the strange corridors of ice and snow. In some places, the walls were smooth panels of ice, as clear as glass, letting the light of the stars and the gibbous moon turn the hallway into pale shadows that skittered away in the light of the lantern. In other areas, the walls and ceiling were white ice or packed snow.

When they reached the bear prince’s room, Wirkelshen nodded to the guards. They studied Gytha for a moment andthen nodded her in. She stepped in and set the plate and lantern on the floor and then turned to accept the bundle of blankets and the clothes before closing the door.

A strangled sound made her turn hurriedly, her heart thudding with nerves.

On the far side of the room, well away from the door, Alexander stood shivering.

“You came,” he said, half to himself.

“Hello,” Gytha said. “Do you remember me?”

“A little.” Shivering racked his whole body, and he did not approach her. His clothes were hardly warm enough for autumn in Gytha’s village, and entirely insufficient for winter there, much less here in the frozen top end of the world. His shirt and trousers were thin and hung on his gaunt frame, and he wore old leather boots that might have been suited for long walks in the forest but not for the snow and ice that blanketed the world.

“Do you remember that my name is Gytha?” She held out the clothes. “I made these for you. They’re not warm enough for this place, but they are better than what you have. You can have my coat if you want, too.”

His dark eyes were wide and a little wild, darting from her to the door and back again. “You’re the girl from the village,” he said carefully. “The one I met as a bear.”