As they reached Elissa's door, a soft whine and a tiny growl slipped through the wood.
Mack slowed. "What was that?"
Elissa's face brightened. "You'll see."
Martha gave him a warning look. "No yelling, no bolting, and no touching unless the princess says so."
"I'm not a child, Martha," he muttered.
She pushed the door open.
A small silver‑white shape stood near the hearth, fur catching the firelight like frost. The pup stared at them with clear, icy eyes, completely still.
Mack froze. "Is that…a Frost‑Walker?"
"Yes," Martha said. "So kindly remember how to behave around sacred things."
"They don't come this close to people," Mack whispered. "They're not supposed to." He breathed the words as he saw the pup.
The pup's gaze shifted to Elissa. The stiffness left his body; he trotted over and nudged her knee, tail giving a small, cautious wag.
Mack stared wide eyes. "He just…came to you." He muttered bewildered.
Elissa knelt and ran her hand gently along his neck. "He does that," she said softly. "He's been staying close since I found him outside the palace. Alistair gave me permission to bring him in."
"That's all?" Mack asked, eyes wide. "You found a Frost‑Walker outside and now he stays with you?"
"That's all you're getting today," Martha said. "The rest is for the storytellers." She huffed.
Mack edged closer, still wary.
"He won't hurt you," Elissa added. "Come on. Slowly."
Mack took a few careful steps forward. The pup watched him, ears pricked, but didn't growl.
"Hi," Mack said awkwardly. "Please don't bite me, great spirit of the North." He bowed a little.
The pup sniffed his hand, then gave it a quick, cold lick.
Mack jolted. "He licked me."
"That's usually a good sign," Elissa said, smiling.
"Or bad taste," Martha muttered.
Mack swallowed and, encouraged, let his hand rest on the pup's head. The fur was thick and cool under his fingers.
"What did you name him?" Mack asked.
"We didn't," Elissa said. "Nothing's felt right yet."
"Every name we tried sat wrong on him," Martha added. "So for now, he's just 'pup,' which is an insult, really."
Mack frowned thoughtfully at the silver-white creature.
"Can I suggest a name?" He asked curious.
" Go ahead," Elissa said with a smile.
"What about Skoll?" he said. "It sounds like it belongs to something northern. Strong. A hunter." His voice excited.
Elissa tried it quietly. "Skoll."
The pup huffed, then pressed closer to her knee, as if agreeing.
Martha nodded once. "Skoll, then."
Mack's face lit up. "Nice to meet you, Skoll," he said, scratching behind one ear.
Skoll leaned into his hand, and the room felt suddenly a little warmer, despite all that northern frost sitting on the rug.
Elissa watched them, soft amusement in her eyes.
"I think he likes you," she said.
Mack shrugged, trying to play it cool and failing. "Well, I did give him a good name."
Martha snorted. "Don't let it go to your head, young master."
Elissa just smiled and rested her hand on Skoll's back, feeling, for a rare quiet moment, safe.
Martha glanced at the window, where the light was already fading. "That's enough for today. The princess needs rest, and so do you."
Reluctantly, Mack drew his hand back from Skoll's fur. "Thank you for letting me meet him, princess," he said, a little shy.
"You're welcome," Elissa replied. "you should rest too, Mack."
Martha saw him out, closing the door softly behind them. In the corridor, the noise of the day had quieted; distant footsteps and low voices echoed off stone.
"Back to your room," Martha said. "You've earned your bed."
Mack yawned, suddenly feeling how heavy his limbs were. "Do you think she'll be all right here?" he asked as they walked.
Martha's gaze flicked once toward Elissa's door, then away. "She's stronger than she looks," she said. "And she's not as alone as people think."
She guided him through the halls to his small guest room, made sure he was inside, then left him to his rest.
Elsewhere in the palace, Kestrel rubbed at the ache in her shoulders as she finally slipped away from the last of the guests. Hours of polite smiles and careful words had drained her more than any ride in the snow.
"I'll check on her after I change," she murmured to herself, meaning Elissa.
But once she reached her own chamber and the door shut behind her, the quiet and the warmth wrapped around her like a blanket. She sat down for a moment on the edge of her bed…and woke only when the sky outside was already deepening toward evening.
Before the dinner bell...
There was a soft knock at Elissa's door.
"Come in," she said, smoothing her skirt, trying not to think about how many strangers were in this castle.
Kestrel slipped inside, closing the door behind her. She looked tired around the eyes, but her voice was gentle. "The bell will ring for dinner soon," she said. "There will be…a lot of people in the hall tonight. More than earlier. Alistair asked me to tell you that if you'd rather, your meal can be brought here. No one will be offended."
Elissa's fingers tightened in the fabric. Part of her wanted to say yes, to stay in this quiet room with Skoll curled by the fire and the walls between her and all those eyes.
"Do you think I should?" she asked carefully.
Kestrel studied her for a moment. "I think you've had a long day," she said. "And I think the court can be…unpleasant when it wants to be. But the choice is yours."
Elissa drew a slow breath. "If I hide now, they'll just say I'm weak," she murmured. "Or frightened of them." She shook her head, more to herself than to Kestrel. "I'll come to the dining hall. I won't give them a reason to call me a coward."
A small smile touched Kestrel's mouth. "Very well," she said softly. "Then I'll walk with you."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to," Kestrel cut in, gentle but firm. "Let them see you at my side."
Elissa's heart eased a little at that. "Thank you."
Kestrel's eyes warmed with something like admiration. "You're braver than most who sit at that table," she said. "Remember that."
When the great bell rang, Kestrel returned and offered Elissa her arm. Together, they stepped into the corridor, the murmur of voices and clink of dishes growing louder as they approached the dining hall.
The doors were already open. Light spilled out—gold and fire, gleaming off dark wood and silver. Servants moved like shadows along the walls. The long table was crowded; the low hum of conversation dipped as they crossed the threshold.
For a heartbeat, the room seemed to look up all at once.