Page 9

I collapsed onto a cot with Myla lying next to me. She’d draped her cloak over both of us, and I thanked her through my trembling jaw, knowing I’d be dead by dawn without her help.

On day two of initiation, my body felt worse.

Every muscle groaned in protest as I limped to the cabin door and stepped into the flurries of dawn.

Snowcapped mountains framed the clearing, and moss-flecked boulders, deprived of sunlight for decades, jutted along the horizon.

Congealed ice curled with each wave in the distance, drowning out the ringing in my ears.

The crunch of bones I’d dreamt of all night lingered, haunting me.

Bridger stood by the fire, freshly showered, while Myla sat on a carved log, eating porridge. Forcing a grin, I flattened my palms near the flame, trying to warm them.

“I’m starving,” I muttered, sitting beside her .

She passed me the bowl of porridge. “Take the rest. I didn’t realize there’d only be enough to feed ten of us.”

Ten. Only ten could eat.

I hesitated. “I can’t take your food, Myla.” She’d already done enough for me, and I owed her my life.

Bridger scoffed, his voice dripping with derision. “How long can someone survive without food, Severyn?” He spat my name like venom, legs spread as he basked in the fire’s warmth.

I forced a sharp smile. “Careful, Bridger, you might warm your cold heart if you get too close to the flame.” I took a spoonful of the oats. Myla nudged the bowl toward me, her eyes urging me to have more.

“Thank you, Myla,” I said earnestly. Every word of gratitude I’d uttered to her that cold night had been genuine—even my apologies for my chattering teeth.

Eleven more students joined us over the next half hour. Bridger scooped the last of the porridge into his bowl, licking his fingers clean. When the remaining cabin doors creaked open, I closed my eyes as those students realized the food was gone.

Bridger stood, brushing crumbs from his coat. “Those who are hungry should’ve woken up earlier. If you beg, you will never thrive.”

His words weren’t for the group—they were a direct jab at my father. I knew exactly what he thought of me.

“For day two of Winter,” Bridger announced, “your quells should be waking up. Some of you may have ice manipulation or a variation. There are two types of quells: the one you’re born with, and the one passed through your enigma. Focus on your mark. Feel its strength.”

He raised his palm, revealing the faded snowflake etched into his skin. An icicle hovered above it, its point sharp enough to kill—a craft perfected through years of training. Without warning, he hurled the spear toward me. It grazed my ear, drawing blood.

I gasped, clutching my shoulder as blood rolled down.

Myla leaned in. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

I nodded, though my hands trembled.

Death may stare you down, may laugh and offer a hand of bone, but I would not fray. I recited passages from Cully’s Fables to steady my heart. The Bones of Love was my favorite. Death, disguised as a friend, a lover—greedy for a single breath, a glimpse of my soul.

Everyone extended their palms. Hunter was the first to summon a snowflake, pride lighting up his face. A vein pulsed on Myla’s forehead as her eyes locked onto her mark. I raised my palm to the sky, willing the ice to break through, to prove to Bridger that I was Winter’s daughter.

“Shit,” Myla breathed as icy tendrils spiraled around her fingers. The storm grew until Bridger clamped her hand shut.

“Your professor can train you,” he said tightly. “For now, let’s not kill us all. Your father was skilled with ice powers—I expected nothing less from you.”

I couldn’t hold back. “Are you even qualified to open our quells? You’re a senior and still haven’t claimed the title. Why is that?”

The group stilled, and Bridger’s face darkened. “I don’t see your quell, Severyn. A Serpent’s daughter should’ve caused the ground to shake by now. I am… disappointed.” His tongue clicked twice.

Hunter frowned at me. “Open your palm wider.”

I obeyed, holding both hands out, but nothing happened. Tears burned my eyes as I stared at the falling snow. Father always made it look so easy. I clenched my fists, trying to summon anything—ice, frost, even a chill. Nothing .

Bridger smirked. “Good luck at the Rite tomorrow, Blanche. Jenessa was hopeful for you—it’ll be a shame when I tell her you’re falling behind.”

A few others laughed. I clenched my fists against my ribs, trying to drown out their mocking voices as the rest practiced their powers. I stared at my scarred palms. Please, give me something.

Leaning into the crackling fire, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Myla’s voice was soft. “You’ll get it. Give it a few days.”

Before I could respond, a shorter girl with pinned-back dark hair overheard and interrupted. “There aren’t days—only hours left to prove ourselves. Only twelve of us will make it on.” She gave a small nod. “I’m Chanvin. I was born in Icillian. Your father was a great man, Myla.”

At least someone’s father had kind words spoken about them.

Bridger’s gaze never left me. I felt the weight of his scrutiny with every move I made. Delwyn and Aspen, cousins from Autumn who had been placed in Winter, walked past, their fingers stained red as they popped berries into their mouths.

“What are you eating?” I asked, desperate for a distraction.

“The berries from that vine,” one said, pointing toward the mistletoe.

I shot to my feet, nearly knocking the berries from their hands. “Those are poisonous! Spit them out!”

Their eyes widened. “We were starving. We couldn’t help it.”

I stormed toward Bridger. “Two of them ate mistletoe. They’re starving! We’re starving! You’ve tortured us enough!”

Bridger’s silver eyes flared with rage. “You don’t get a say in how I lead, Blanche. This is Winter. Food is sparse in most regions, and people die. This is your first test to know if you belong, which, from the looks of it, you don’t.”

I bit back my anger. “What about those who fell off the wall? Will their bodies be returned home? ”

“Most students who die here don’t get letters sent to their parents.

The academy won’t waste resources dragging bodies out of the ground.

People die here—it’s nothing new,” Bridger said coldly.

He waved dismissively at Aspen and Delwyn, who clutched their stomachs.

“They’ll live. Besides, mistletoe is the most invasive species in the North—after the Blanches. ”

“I am not your enemy, Bridger.”

“I saved your life on that slope.”

“Not kicking me off isn’t heroic.”

Bridger’s jaw tightened. “Do you know why your father’s wards are failing?”

“He needs an heir to lean on,” I said.

Bridger smiled cruelly. “You have no idea, do you? Your father bartered something he couldn’t uphold.”

The weight of his words settled in my chest like ice. “Over my dead body will the Blanche name leave the North.”

“That’ll be easy,” Bridger sneered, his silver eyes piercing mine. Ice crept into my throat as he raised his hand, choking me until I couldn’t breathe. “You are weak and don’t deserve to become a ruler. Misspeak again, and I’ll freeze your tongue until it snaps.”

He released me, and my tongue felt like a stone in my mouth.

Bridger stared at the sun dipping past the horizon.

“Everybody rise. It’s time for your enigma bonding.

The younger the creature, the stronger your bond will be.

We have griffin eggs that should hatch in a few weeks, but the egg will choose you.

” He unsheathed a knife from his inner thigh.

“Can someone tell me what type of creature will bond with us?”

Myla spoke first. “In Ravensla, we have dragons and wyverns.”

Bridger’s smile twisted. “You’re not wrong, but a dragon won’t choose you. There are other bonded creatures for the Frozen Valleys—griffins, hippogriffs, rocs, phoenixes, and wolves.”

Hunter’s eyes flashed at Bridger. “I want to fly. A wolf can’t fly, and a phoenix is a small bird.”

“You don’t get a choice. If a creature doesn’t bond with you, you’re out,” he said. “I was lucky—bonded to three wolf pups my first week. And a griffin.”

The bushes rustled, deep growls cutting through the air. Two yellow eyes stalked, a grey coat flickering through the frosted trees. The other was midnight black.

“Where’s the third?” Myla asked.

“I prefer her to keep an eye on my parents,” Bridger replied, gesturing sharply. The wolves vanished into the trees. “It’s against academy law to kill another student’s enigma in your first year. The bond strengthens over time. If your enigma dies, so do you.”

Chanvin asked, “What about rider bonds? My sister formed a pack during her year. She could speak to her best friend from halls away.”

“Bonding with other riders is forbidden until year three,” Bridger said, voice flat.

Hunter frowned. “Why? I have nothing to hide.”

Bridger shrugged. “Hormones. No sense in bonding with someone who might be your rival. Rider bonds tie you to one mind. Being indebted to someone for the rest of your life when you’re still figuring things out? Foolish.”

We entered the forest, evergreen trees swaying in the wind. The low tide revealed three small caves along the mountain’s edge, their entrances submerged beneath icy water.

“Who wants to go first?” Bridger’s eyes locked onto the black waves, daring someone to step forward.

A male named Robi shook his head. “The water’s freezing. We’ll drown if we get stuck inside. ”

Even Hunter stayed at the water’s edge, unwilling to step closer.

Bridger folded his arms over his chest. “Then you drown. If you want your enigma to give its existence to you, you must earn that trust. Nothing will be handed to you—especially not a title.” His gaze flickered to me.

“Severyn, since you went last down the mountain, why don’t you go first this time?

I wouldn’t want anyone to think I was treating you differently. ”