The castle was quiet. Illyra tucked the bundle of sticks under her arms - sticks she’d stolen from the hearth in her bedroom. There was no one outside her bedroom door this late and the guards in the halls were further spread out. Illyra could slip away unnoticed…
Following the same path she’d ridden on horseback, only struggling through the deep snow in her furred boots and cape, Illyra headed back to the frozen lake. Sabriel’s story of so many lost, frozen souls had shaken her.
The princess dropped the sticks on the ground and arranged them like and pyramid. With a flick of her wrist, the sticks burst into flame, a small bonfire bursting to life and reflecting across the sheet of ice that covered the lake.
Illyra grinned, the warmth of the fire filling her veins like she was back home. She threw her cape off, not caring that it fluttered away on the wind, and started to dance.