Beside me, Lia Mara is still and intent. “What shall we call you?” she says.

“My name is Iisak.” The way he says his name is both sibilant and not, like taking the word ice and dragging it to a hard stop.

“Iisak,” says Lia Mara. “Thank you for the goose.”

I’m not ready to see Iisak as our savior yet. “You’ve been following us.”

“I watched them take you prisoner,” he says. “I watched them drag you into that castle in chains.” He pauses. “I watched them torture you and the boy.”

Tycho frowns and keeps his eyes on the bird, but I do not look away. “Why?”

“You freed me. I owe you a debt.”

“I freed you as a distraction. You owe me nothing.”

“Perhaps, but you gave me the means to escape. You told me where to go.”

I cannot decide if this creature is toying with me or if he’s being genuine. I glance at Tycho, who’s removed the larger feathers and is now struggling with the light downy ones underneath.

Unbidden, a memory comes to me. I must have been twelve or thirteen, the summer my father—the man I thought to be my father—was injured. My younger brother Cade was trying, and failing, to pluck a goose for us to take to the market. He was desperate to help. Half our crops hadn’t been harvested, and we had little to sell. We were all so hungry and worried and uncertain of what our future would hold.

Much like right now.

I shake off the memory. “Hold it into the fire,” I say to Tycho. “Singe them a bit. They’ll be easier to pull free.” I look back at Iisak. “Am I to believe you followed me all this way because I opened your cage door?”

“I followed you because you are so clearly a magesmith, yet you use none of the powers available to you. I followed you because you are the rightful heir to the throne of this cursed country, yet you make no claim.” He pauses, his black eyes narrowing. “I followed you because you travel with a daughter of Karis Luran, and I cannot reach Iishellasa by myself.”

“The ice forests?” says Lia Mara. “No one can cross the Frozen River.”

Iisak flares his wings, making the fire flicker. “I can.” His expression darkens as his wings fold back into place. “Though perhaps not yet. I have spent months in a cage.” These words bring a bitter wind that ruffles leaves overhead.

“Perhaps not ever,” says Lia Mara, “if my mother discovers your existence. The scravers have been treaty-bound to stay out of Syhl Shallow since before I was born.”

“So you see why I thought we might help each other.”

The day has been long and exhausting and full of too many questions. I have no idea what the right decisions are. “We are traveling slowly now,” I say. “But tomorrow we will find horses and weapons and cover ground more quickly.”

“You will find an arrow in your back.” His eyes narrow, and that low growl rolls into his voice again. “I see much from above. The cities are full of guardsmen, searching for you both.”

I go still. I knew Harper wouldn’t be able to force his hand. Rhen organized guards and enforcers quicker than I expected. The thought of fleeing again right now is almost too much to bear. Even if I could manage it, I doubt Tycho could.

Tycho turns from the fire. The feathers lie in a pile at his feet. “I’d kill for a dagger. Lend me the sword?”

I begin to draw the weapon, but Iisak steps forward, plucks the carcass from Tycho’s hands, and, with two swipes of his claws, drops the bird in pieces at the boy’s feet.

Tycho stares at the carcass, then peers up at Iisak. “Ah … thank you.” He gingerly shifts to lay the meat on rocks that he set in the fire.

Iisak licks the blood from his claws.

I’ve seen enough monstrous creatures and done enough monstrous things that I don’t flinch at the sight, but I expect Lia Mara to grimace. Instead, she looks intrigued. “How did you get out of Iishellasa without breaking the treaty?”

The creature smiles. “I didn’t.”

“So you hope I will intercede for you with my mother.”

“If I only cared for myself, I would attempt to sneak through Syhl Shallow alone.” He pauses. “I believe your mother has something of great value to me. I am willing to risk punishment for breaking the treaty to acquire it.”

“What is it?” I say.

“That is between me and the queen.”

Lia Mara studies him. “If we allow you to travel with us, what do you offer?”

Tycho glances over. “Did you see what he just did to this goose? How are you going to stop him from traveling with us?”

Iisak smiles, but his fangs make it more frightening than reassuring. “I can see what you cannot, from the air. I can scout the cities for guards and enforcers before you attempt trade.” His eyes level with mine. “Until then, I can feed your people, Your Highness.”

They’re not my people, but my pride takes a blow anyway. “Stop calling me that.”

“I can help you find your magic.”

I shiver as another unnaturally cold breeze slides across my back, making the lash marks sting. “How?”

“We are both creatures of magic. The magesmiths were once allies with my people.” Iisak steps forward, and I tense, putting my hand on the sword again. Tycho wasn’t wrong. I’ve already seen the damage Iisak can do.

The scraver stops, dropping to a crouch in the leaves in front of me. “If you knew how to use your magic, you would not fear me at all.”

I swallow. His eyes are level with mine, and I wonder how I ever missed the keen intelligence there. Nonetheless, it’s like meeting the gaze of a predator. Lia Mara has gone absolutely still beside me.

Iisak holds out a hand. “Your wrist, Your Highness?”

I remember what happened the day Worwick had me yank the canvas off the scraver’s cage, how I tried to feed him water and he sank those fangs into my arm. There’s a glint of challenge in his eyes now, and I’m distantly aware of Tycho and Lia Mara waiting with held breath.

I let go of the sword and hold out my hand.

I expect his touch to be icy, the way his words feel, but his fingers are warm as he turns my arm over to bare the underside.

He drags a razor-sharp claw along the jagged scar left by his teeth, and I fight to keep still. “You could have healed this.”

“You could’ve not bitten me.”

He ignores my tone. “Your blood is full of magic,” he says. “I would wager that you call upon it without knowing. Have you ever survived an injury that would’ve killed another?”

“No. Never.”

But then I stop. Think.

The first season, when Rhen was cursed to become a monster, he terrorized the castle and killed nearly everyone. I was injured—we all were—but I was one of few guardsmen who survived.

After the second season, I was the only guardsman to survive.

I’ve always attributed that to skill and luck.

“You could likely heal your injuries now,” says Iisak. “The boy’s as well.”

“How?” says Tycho.

Iisak’s eyes do not leave mine. “How do you learn to walk on two legs?”

I frown. “Balance?”