The walk back from the thermal pond was the longest, coldest journey Roxy had ever taken within the walls of the Iron-Wood Manor.
She clutched the heavy woollen shawl tightly around her trembling shoulders, her bare feet numb against the freezing stone corridors. The echo of Caspian's retreating footsteps played on a cruel, agonising loop in her mind.
The King of the Southern Seas had looked at her with eyes made of impenetrable ice. He had turned his back on her.
When Roxy finally reached the master suite, she crawled back into the massive bed of dire-wolf pelts. She curled into a tight ball, completely shivering despite the roaring hearth fire, and cried until her exhausted body finally dragged her into a restless, dreamless sleep.
When Day 2 dawned, the pale winter sunlight filtered through the frosted glass windows, but it brought no warmth.
The silence in the Manor was absolute and entirely suffocating.
