❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐄,
𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄. ❞
Saskia Vrana knows what to do when the Nights of Smoke come: Close the windows and doors. Don't look out into the darkness. Sacrifice and pray. And never dare to leave the co...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HOW THE SHADOWS FEAST iii. a prince of wolves
the second night
❅ ❅ ❅
IN WINTER, SCHWARZHAIN SEEMED as though it was carved from ice and snow—a magical city fit for Perhta, the Lady of Frost herself. Beautiful but hostile to humankind.
When Saskia and Katinka entered the marketplace, they did so in silence and with their full habit: white dresses and veils, carefully falling down their faces to obscure their features to untouchable, divine beauty.
They looked like shy young brides or snow-adorned trees in their wintry mourning.
People moved out of their way, mumbling some blessings with respectfully lowered eyes as if they feared even one glance too much would be their last. Perhta punished those who tried to see her with blindness or even death. Who knew if she wouldn't do the same for her beloved daughters?
Besides, there were two kinds of people they respected in Schwarzhain the most: The priestesses of the Bright Mother who soothed the goddess with prayers and the men of the Order of Wolves who slew bandits and demons alike with swords.
And those who summoned them by breaking the rules ...
This thought, Saskia violently shoved aside.
The princess could not remember when she had been allowed to leave the convent for the market the last time. It felt like ages ago. Privileges like this one were usually granted to the more pious maidens.
In her fear, Katinka had burned all their sacred sage and juniper last night, leaving their cell in a thick fragrance Saskia had nearly choked on. Neither of their sisters had been willing to share their own herbs, and Mother Gesa had not done as much as allowing them both to go to town to buy new ones.
There was nothing else to do, anyway.
"Something evil in the convent? Nonsense. You would do better sharing some of your fear with Saskia, Daughter. She needs it more," the priestess had said and dismissed them.
Now, Katinka clung to Saskia like a child to its mother, fingers clasped forcefully around hers as if fearing to lose her among those few other people. Underneath her veil, the girl's face was almost as white as the fabric itself.
"Mother Gesa is right, you know? You must not fear so much, srnitsa," Saskia said. The words left her mouth sharper than intended—only the nickname softening them a little—although in her heart she felt for her.
Other than Saskia, Katinka had no other home than the convent. If anyone could call herself a Daughter of Perhta, it was her. When she called Gesa "Mother" it almost rang true. For years, this mother had taught Katinka awe but now turned away from her child's fear.
