In the frigid woods at the edge of a storm, I’m going to find myself or die trying.

I’m a fugitive of the fae city of Windhelm, framed for a murder I didn’t commit. I only made it out of their dungeons by luck, and now I’m on the run—but so is the Prince.

Nobody knows where he is, but my instincts pull me toward the Veridian; a roaring tempest of dark magic that roams the land of the winter fae.

Our trip through the forest is cut short, though, by a group of fae that seize our carriage and bring us to their village as their prisoners. The mark on my hand, the mark of the white wolf, is the only thing that keeps them from killing us outright, but if I can’t prove my mark is real, I’m only prolonging the inevitable.

I don’t have time for these people. I need to find Cillian before he does something stupid, but I don’t have a lot of options.