“Unite with your father, aligning the Daci and the Horde under one family crest.”

She nodded. “Serghei is the only one you can trust. Not my brothers or sisters with their scheming and plots. Solely my father. And of course you can trust your Bride. But what of everyone else?”

“I’m to use and discard them, caring about none, for they matter naught.”

She curled her forefinger under his chin. “Yes, my clever son.”

They spent the next few miles in this manner, with her teaching him the intricate customs of the Daci as they tried to ignore the cold. A lowering sky threatened even more snow; dawn would claw through the dark in mere hours.

Lothaire shivered, teeth and baby fangs chattering.

“Silence,” Ivana hissed. “The humans did follow.” She scented the air. “Gods, their smell aggrieves me!”

“What do they want?”

She murmured, “To hunt us.”

“Wh-where can we hide?” They were in a wide valley with high plateaus to the east and west. The mortals advanced from the north. Mountains loomed far to the south.

She gazed around despairingly. “We must make it to those mountains. I believe that is where we’ll find the pass that leads to Dacia.” She gave him a shove. “Now run!”

He did, as fast as he could, but the snow was too high on the ground, blinding bits of it raining down too swiftly. “We’ll never make it, Mother!”

She snatched his arm and attempted to trace with him. Their forms briefly faded but wouldn’t disappear. Gritting her teeth, she tried once more, to no avail.

Releasing him, she spun in place, searching for an escape—then stilled, listening. Her eyes shot wide. “Father!” she screamed, the sound echoing down the valley. “I am here! Your Ivana is here.”