Page 4

It was subtle at first, the current changing slightly.

Then the temperature dropped sharply.

She tilted one wing, adjusting her angle, but the air felt strange, the wind gusting harder.

A blast of freezing air tore across the sky, scattering several Parliament members. True flapped her wings harder as blowing snow obscured her view of her parents and the others. The air current twisted wildly around her, and another, stronger gust of wind hit her.

Snow exploded like a snowflake-filled bomb, covering her in icy-cold flakes. Cries of alarm from her family filled the air as the formation was broken apart by the sudden storm.

She’d flown through countless winter storms, but this one felt different. There was an edge of something dark among the cold winds and freezing snow, and she kept getting a whiff of sulfur.

True tried to angle herself back toward her family, but her visibility was cut off entirely when another powerful gust of wind slammed into her, and she lost control.

The wind seized her like a toy and tossed her off course. She beat her wings furiously while she called for help, but the storm drowned out her voice, pushing her one way and then the other, holding her helpless to its whims. The last thing she saw before the storm swallowed her was what appeared to be the faint glimmer of the Northern Lights ahead.

Then the wind whipped her upside down.

True tumbled helplessly through the storm toward the frozen wilderness below, one last cry tearing from her beak, as ice covered her wings and the wind stole her breath.

Holy crap. She was going to die.

Winter made another round inside the perimeter of Northernmost. His polar bear was driving him nuts and had been ever since he’d walked outside to patrol. Something was going on with his bear, and whether it was some paranormal sense of coming danger or something else, he didn’t know, but all he could hear over the grumble of his bear was the howling wind.

Jack Frost was cooking up a storm like it was his sole mission in life to freeze every freaking thing around, and he was damn good at it.

The wind was practically violent in its intensity, and the visibility was shit because of the snow. Or sleet. Or whatever nasty combination he was causing.

“It’s not Solstice, right?” Alder, one of the elves on the team, asked as he joined Winter.

“No, we’re over a week out,” Winter said. His breath puffed out as he spoke, and he shivered despite his shifter nature and the parka designed for freezing temperatures.

“He’s up to something,” Alder said, his gaze straying beyond the magical perimeter.

And it was true. Aside from Frost starting a harsh winter earlier than usual, he’d been dropping people he’d taken magic from outside in the stark wilderness, too far for them to make it on their own to the safety of Northernmost but not too far to be rescued by the Guardians and security team.

Alder wasn’t wrong. Frost was growing bolder, and perhaps even testing them.

The two stared into the darkness through the harsh, icy winds toward the place where Frost’s underground lair was located. No telling how many elves, witches, and warlocks he’d abducted to steal their magic or turn them into one of his evil followers. Poor bastards.

Winter’s bear grumbled again, louder, and his gaze slipped upward to the dancing Northern Lights.

Over the roaring wind, he heard something.

A bird call?

Out here?

He tilted his head and focused his hearing more intently.

For a moment, there was nothing but the howl of the storm.

Then he saw it. A wall of swirling snow rushing toward them from the south. As the storm passed overhead, something dark flashed against the clouds, something falling. And then he heard it again: that sharp, panicked call.

His bear roared furiously in his head. He didn’t know what was dropping out of the sky, but he knew one thing for sure. Whoever—whatever—it was… was important. To him.

“Did you hear that?” Winter asked Alder.

“The wind?”