Chapter 1
One snowy morning, in the master bedroom where Malachi and I sleep each night, I pulled open the heavy curtains and pushed them aside. Pale sunlight spilled through the glass doors leading to the balcony that overlooks all of Wynterhaven. I walked toward the doors, opened them, and stepped outside.
The cold met me instantly.
Clouds drifted across the sky, swallowing the sun, and when I looked out over the city—left, right, and far ahead—everything was washed in white. Light snow had begun to fall again, soft and slow, like the world was exhaling.
My fingers rose to the crown resting on my head. A quiet reminder:
I am the Queen of this country.
Malachi is the King.
And together, we carry the weight of Wynterhaven.
But today, I stood alone. Malachi was away on business, leaving the castle far too quiet.
I drew in a deep breath of cold, snowy air. When I exhaled, my breath fogged in front of me, and the temperature seemed to drop even further. Something tugged at my heart—an uneasiness I couldn’t name. A whisper of wrongness. I tried to shake it off. It was probably nothing. Today, I told myself, I would walk around the city, check on our people, and see if anyone needed help.
I left the bedroom and made my way down the long hallway. This castle is enormous. When I first married Malachi and moved in, I got lost constantly. It took months before I finally memorized every corridor and room. Now, the halls feel familiar—almost comforting.
I stepped outside the castle doors, but the moment I did, a low rumble rolled beneath my feet. It was faint, but unmistakable. Strange, too—there had been no warning, no storm; nothing that should have caused it. I paused, listening, but the sound faded as quickly as it came.
Trying not to dwell on it, I headed toward the heart of Wynterhaven, where people gather to shop, talk, and enjoy music. Snow crunched under my boots as I walked.
When I reached the center of town, I spotted Mr. Halestorm nearby.
“Hello, Mr. Halestorm,” I called as I approached.
He stopped and smiled warmly. “Oh—hello, Sylvia! What can I do for you?”
“I felt a low rumble near the castle entrance,” I said. “Did you feel it too? Or hear anything about it?”
He thought for a moment before nodding. “I did. I felt it when I passed the castle gates. But I don’t know what caused it.”
His answer didn’t ease my mind, but I forced myself not to worry. “What are you doing out in the snow today?” I asked.
“I’m on my way to see Gerald,” he said—Mr. Patches, of course. “He’s a good man.”
“He is,” I agreed. “Tell him I said hello.”
“I will. Have a good rest of your day,” he said with a smile.
“You too, Ezekial.”
We parted ways, and I spent some time speaking with a few citizens, checking on them, and listening to their concerns. Eventually, I turned back toward the castle.
That’s when I heard a familiar voice behind me.
“Sylvia? What are you doing out here in the cold?”
I turned and saw Malachi approaching, snow dusting his cloak. He must have returned earlier than expected.
“I wanted to walk through the heart of town,” I said. “Get some fresh air.”
He gave a soft, tired smile. “I’m glad you did. But come inside now. It’s freezing.”
“Alright,” I said.
Together, we headed back into the warmth of the castle.
