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“I’m sorry, but Frost took your magic fully,” Santa said. “There are places you can go with others who’ve had their magic stolen. Don’t worry about that right now. Let’s all get inside. Now that we don’t have to mount the rescue mission we were planning, we can get on with the day.”

True was glad they had planned to rescue them, but she was even happier she and Winter had been able to set each other free and get home.

The group turned toward the main building.

True squeezed Winter’s hand. “We’re safe.”

He smiled at her, but something seemed really off. His face was strained, his eyes an odd pale gray, as if the color was being leached from them.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said with a rough voice. “Just tired.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

She was tired too, of course. They’d escaped a dungeon, run through a blizzard, and nearly brought down the Well of Magic with a tainted elf.

But as they walked toward the main building, True felt something shift in their bond.

“Winter?”

He stumbled. She pulled on his hand and he pivoted, leaning hard against her with a deep groan.

“Winter!”

He collapsed, pulling her down with him into the snow. She tried to keep him upright, but he was far too heavy. His body hit the ground hard and she scrambled beside him, panic clawing at her.

“Winter, what’s wrong?”

As she tried to pull him up, the collar of his shirt opened and she froze in disbelief. His chest was covered in frost—actual frost spreading across him like ice over a frozen lake. Pale veins of deep blue ice magic crawled beneath his skin.

“Oh, no! Santa, help!”

Santa dropped to one knee beside her, growled, and then hefted Winter over his shoulder. “Move!” he yelled, his long strides eating up the distance to the building.

She hurried behind him as Ana joined her. “He was fine,” True whispered. “He saved us both.”

“Frost did something to him,” Ana said. “But Santa can heal him.”

Someone opened the doors for them, and True hurried behind Santa to the infirmary, where he laid Winter on a bed and ripped open his shirt. The frost had spread farther now, creeping across his ribs and shoulders. His breathing was shallow, his lips pale, and their bond as mates seemed to be disappearing by the second.

“I heard you need some heat,” Emberlin said as she rushed inside with Sebastian by her side. “Oh, shit. Santa?”

“It’s my brother’s ice magic, but I’ve never seen it like this,” Santa said.

“We can combine our magic,” Emberlin said. She put her hand on True’s shoulder. “We’ll get him back for you.”

True nodded, too afraid to open her mouth and simply wail in disbelief.

She watched silently from the head of the bed as Santa laid his hands on one side of Winter’s frost-covered chest and Emberlin laid hers on the other. Santa’s golden magic and Emberlin’s fire magic flared together, and the frost on Winter’s chest retreated. But it surged again, faster this time, covering more of his body.

“No,” Emberlin said, shaking her head.

“What?” True asked.

“There’s something different about this ice magic. It’s like the magic is planted inside him, very deep,” Emberlin said, her glowing hands hovering over Winter’s chest.

Santa lifted Winter’s arm where a puncture wound leaked blood, surrounded by a purple bruise. “I think they took some of Winter’s blood.”

“They took my primary flight feathers,” True said.