Chapter 16 — Snow Upon Iron
Alec's POV
The last stretch of the Dragonmorath Pass was a narrow throat of ice carved between black stone cliffs. The wind screamed through it like a living thing — clawing at cloaks, slicing at skin. My horse, Embermane, tossed her head as if offended by the weather's existence.
"I know, girl," I murmured, patting her neck. "I'm offended too."
Behind me, the three guards shivered violently, trying and failing to hide it.
Rhen rode beside me, hood pulled low, trying to pretend he wasn't freezing to death.
"You're the one who said it would be quicker to take this route," I reminded him cheerfully.
"It is quicker," Rhen snapped, "if the blizzard doesn't kill us first."
I grinned. "Think positive."
"I am. I'm positively sure we're going to die."
Cheerful man, truly.
The wind picked up, blowing sharp needles of snow across our faces. My lute, strapped to my back, thumped against my spine every time Embermane stumbled.
Stupid decision bringing it?
Probably.
Was I going to admit that?
Absolutely not.
We finally reached the end of the pass just as the storm thickened — and there it was, spread out below us in the valley like a fortress carved from winter itself:
Kvartor.
A city of grey stone walls dusted in white, towers rising like frozen spears. Smoke curled from chimneys. Torches glowed warmly along the ramparts, which was ironic because everything else looked like it wanted you dead.
I blew into my hands. "Well. Looks welcoming."
Rhen snorted. "If by welcoming you mean 'marginally better than the grave,' then yes."
We urged our horses down the switchback path toward the gates. As we approached, horns sounded; guards appeared above the walls, crossbows pointed down.
"Halt!" a voice barked. "State your name and intent!"
Rhen opened his mouth.
I beat him to it.
"Aiden of the Southern Orphanage!" I called happily. "Bearer of music, joy, and occasionally bad decisions!"
Rhen twisted toward me, horrified. "Alec—"
The guard blinked.
"…What?"
I cleared my throat loudly.
"Also, uh — travelers seeking shelter!"
Better.
The crossbows didn't lower.
The guards muttered.
The gate didn't open.
Rhen leaned close to me and hissed, "For once in your life, don't make jokes."
"I literally can't help it when I'm nervous," I whispered back.
"You're always nervous!"
"Exactly!"
Before he could strangle me, the gate creaked open just a sliver and a man stepped out. He wore a heavy fur cloak, grey beard braided with silver rings, and the stare of someone who slept with one hand on a dagger.
"You said your name was Aiden," he said. Not a question. A trap.
"Yes," I said brightly. "That is me. Just your average, perfectly normal—"
"Aiden of where exactly?"
"…the south?"
Brilliant answer, Alec. Flawless.
Rhen pinched the bridge of his nose so hard I thought he'd snap it.
The bearded man stared a moment longer, then turned his gaze to our horses, the insignia on the guards' cloaks, and the way Rhen sat like someone deeply regretting every choice that led to this moment.
Finally, the man said, "Enter. But you will explain yourselves to the Warden."
Oh, good. Starting the day with interrogation. My favorite.
The gates opened wider, and we rode into the city.
---
Kvartor was… not what I expected.
I expected cold stone and cold people and cold everything.
But the streets were alive — lanterns hanging between buildings, the smell of roasted chestnuts drifting from a stall, children playing in the snow, slipping and laughing.
A group of old women sat near a fire pit knitting scarves at alarming speed. One of them glared at me as I passed, as though sensing the chaos in my soul.
I smiled at her.
She narrowed her eyes.
I feared her deeply.
Rhen nudged me. "Don't antagonize the elders."
"I just smiled."
"That is antagonizing."
We dismounted outside a large stone building — the Warden's hall. Inside, it was warm, smoky, and far too quiet.
The Warden of Kvartor sat behind a heavy desk, armor still on, sword within reach. His eyes flicked over each of us, sharp as razors.
"You came from Dragonmorath," he said.
I gave a friendly nod. "We did."
"And you say your name is… Aiden."
"Yes," I said confidently.
Rhen choked on his own breath.
The Warden tapped his fingers. "Interesting name. Especially since the last envoy sent from Dragonmorath also introduced himself as Aiden."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Rhen stiffened.
The guards behind me shifted nervously.
I swallowed. "Ah. Yes. A common name in the south!"
"Is it."
Not a question. Not believing me.
The Warden leaned forward.
"When was the last time you heard from the envoy?"
Here we go.
Time to lie better.
Time to be clever.
Time to—
"WE DON'T KNOW ANYTHING," I blurted.
Rhen's face hit his hands.
The Warden's eyes narrowed like a wolf scenting weakness. "Strange. Most kingdoms check on their envoys regularly."
"Not ours," I said quickly. "We're very… um… relaxed."
"Relaxed," he echoed slowly. "Your kingdom is relaxed."
"Very."
Silence stretched so painfully thick I wanted to melt into the floor.
Finally, he spoke.
"Did you see anything strange on the road?"
I hesitated.
We didn't.
Not yet.
But whatever happened to the envoy was clearly serious enough to put the Warden on edge.
"No," I said truthfully. "Only snow."
The Warden sat back. "Then hear this, Aiden."
He looked me dead in the eye.
"The envoy never arrived."
I froze.
The words hit like ice water down my spine.
Rhen's breath caught.
My guards tensed.
I tried to keep my expression neutral — failing, of course, because my face enjoys betraying me.
"When did he disappear?" I asked quietly.
"Apparently long before reaching Kvartor," the Warden said darkly. "The patrols found no trace of him."
No trace.
None.
A shadow crawled under my skin.
"And worse," the Warden continued, voice dropping, "the last message we received from him was a half-finished report."
"What did it say?"
He held my gaze.
"They didn't let me pass."
Cold poured straight through my bones.
For a moment, I swear I heard something — a whisper — like a distant echo carried by wind.
they didn't let us pass…
I shook my head. Snow madness. Imagination. Who knew.
The Warden stood.
"You may stay in Kvartor tonight. But do not wander. Whatever is blocking travelers near the border… it is not bandits."
Well. That was comforting.
He dismissed us with a wave.
Rhen grabbed my arm the second we stepped outside.
"Alec, you absolute disaster—"
"I KNOW!" I hissed back. "I KNOW I'm a disaster!"
"You nearly told the Warden you were the prince!"
"I didn't say that!"
"No, but you said everything BUT that!"
I rubbed my face. "Okay, yes, I panicked. But we have bigger problems."
Rhen's expression shifted. "The envoy."
"Yeah."
I stared up at the cold, grey sky.
"And whatever didn't let him through."
---
That night, Kvartor did not feel safe.
Our rooms were small but warm. I sat on the bed, lute in my lap, fingers trembling slightly on the strings.
I strummed once.
The sound echoed strangely — hollow, tight, like the air didn't want music tonight.
Rhen paced the room like the floor insulted his family.
"Alec, this mission was supposed to be simple. Find out what happened. Report back. But this…" He shook his head. "This is something else."
"I know," I said softly.
"You're not thinking of going out there alone, are you?"
"Alone? No."
I grinned.
"With you."
He stared at me, betrayal in his soul.
"Alec."
"We can't ignore this," I said, voice firming. "If something's out there, blocking the border, stopping envoys, maybe killing them — we have to find it."
Rhen looked at me a long moment.
Then sighed like a dying man.
"I hate that you're brave."
"I prefer the word heroic."
"I prefer the word stupid."
"Same thing."
He didn't argue.
He sat beside me, rubbing his forehead. "We need a plan."
"We'll make one."
Silence settled.
The torch flickered.
The snowstorm outside intensified, pressing against the shutters like it wanted inside.
I plucked a soft melody on my lute — something calm, something to steady the nerves.
Rhen finally relaxed, leaning back.
I felt the music soothe the room.
For a moment, things felt almost normal.
Then —
A knock.
Sudden.
Sharp.
Rhen's hand went straight to his dagger.
I lowered my lute, heartbeat jumping.
"Who is it?" I called.
Silence.
Then another knock — slower this time.
I stood, crossed the room, and opened the door—
No one there.
Only a single piece of parchment on the floor.
I bent, picked it up.
Rhen moved behind me, tense.
I unfolded the parchment.
And in messy, shaking handwriting, barely legible:
"Don't leave the city.
They're watching the border."
Rhen inhaled sharply. "What does that mean?"
I swallowed.
"It means," I whispered, "the envoy wasn't the only one who saw something."
And suddenly, the snowstorm didn't feel like weather.
It felt like a warning.
---