By morning, Evelyn had regained her composure. She suffered through her father’s shouted lecture, and then back went up to her rooms. To start the packing.

Silent-faced, she began sorting her ‘practical’ clothes, gloves and dresses that seemed the most durable and the least frivolous. Her hands were still shaking with the knowledge of what the packing meant an hour later, when a heap of clothes was piled on the elaborately carved bed.

DING! DING!

The clock started to chime the hour, shaking Evelyn out of her muted stupor. She had been imagining the worst sort of scenarios that could happen.

Getting lost on the road to the new place they were to inhabit, not having anywhere to go at all, her siblings crumpling under the shock and weariness of their new lives… She was deathly scared of what would come next, and her mind would not think of anything else.

If Jar was here, he would say, ‘Chin up, Winter Princess; life is often not fair, and it is never predictable, and the only way to get through it is to forge ahead and never give in. Smile and fight your way through, and everything will be alright.’

“But you aren’t here, Jar!” cried Evelyn to herself. “You aren’t and nothing will be alright, and I am so scared of what is coming!”

Immediately, she scolded herself for her outburst. She bit her lip and took in deep breaths, until the tingling in her eyes was gone and the rope constricting her chest loosened. Evelyn Villiers did not cry – she was stubborn, strong, made of stronger things than hysterics.

“Okay. That is better.” A deep breath. “Now, to find a trunk.”

She started looking around her grand and lavish quarters, starting with her sleeping room, and then her little library, and then the one with the piano and the sowing. She was sure that there had been a large, solid, black trunk here at one point. She remembered seeing it – all she had to do now was find it. After combing through her rooms, she started on the wardrobe, her face red and warm from the exertion.

“There! This is where you have been hiding from me!” She pulled out her trunk and started piling things in. Normally, Evelyn would not do this herself, and ask Darcia for help – she was always good at knowing what was necessary and what was not.

With the current circumstances, however, and the fact that Darcia still had not come out of her quarters (most unusual for her), Evelyn could not bear to disturb anyone. She would check travel manuals and books talking of modest peasants later in the library, in order to know exactly what to bring. That was what books were for. Though she disliked books and reading in general, the things were dead useful.

Finally, she managed to latch the trunk, and quickly wrote down a note that would remind her to check the books. Now done wither her task, she started wandering in an attempt to find something else to do.

The trinkets, she would sort another time. Something about this entire situation made her feel like doing something useful, getting things ready and doing things, and it also kept her mind occupied and at bay.

Evelyn pushed a door leading to a dusty corridor open. She did not remember ever going down there before. Her curiosity and desire to not dwell on the current situation drove her to continue down the hall. Her footsteps thudded on the dusty ground, and her every breath tasted of decay. There were not that many doors lining the walls, which Evelyn found intriguing.

There was something about this corridor that was otherworldly, removed from the despair of the current situation. Everything was silent, and still. She wandered on, getting lost in the soft and lulling ambience. Soon, a certain door drew her eye.

It seemed to be made of a different wood than all the other doors in the manse, and without thinking she turned the handle. The door was not locked, and when Evelyn opened it the hinges creaked noisily.

Inside, the room was quite small and bare. It was also very dusty. She sneezed, pulled out a lacy handkerchief to dab at her nose, and walked towards the middle.

With a clang, the door behind her shut. Evelyn jumped in surprise, but her attention was caught by something by the single small window. It was quite tall, and covered with a sheet that was once white. Before she could think better of it, Evelyn pulled the sheet off and started coughing as a cloud of dust rose in the air.

The object was a mirror, tall with a leg behind it to prop it up. The fact that it was grimy did nothing to change an appearance that was definitely not what you would call beautiful.

Evelyn had a sort of sharp beauty, too intense and sharp and frigid, like a piece of glass too saturated with colour and sporting a serrated and jagged edge. That was why people called her ‘Winter – she was as sharp and cold as winter’s chill. That was also why she avoided her reflection, and harboured an intense loathing for mirrors.

All they did was remind her of what she was and what she never would be. She dropped her gaze from her slightly distorted reflection in the dirt-encrusted glass. One glance was more than enough. It was time to leave.

After a few pathetic attempts to put the sheet back on the mirror, she gave up. She tried to fold the sheet as best as she could (which was not that good in the first place) and left the room quickly. There was a small thrill of relief when the door opened without trouble, and she was able to leave, seeking refuge in the Corridor of Windows once more. Evelyn did not see the shadowed reflection of a scarred man that appeared in the mirror for a flash.

“Sister!” She turned toward Ed, who was rushing to her. “Look, I know how you feel about errands, but Father has already let go almost all of the servants – and Darcia is not in robust health.”

“I understand. No worries, brother. What do you need?”

Equipped with a list of varied items to acquire, Evelyn bundled up in a cashmere coat and scurried to the market, thankful for once that she was used to the glares and sneers from the rest of the townsfolk. They had always hated her, and their disgust for her because of the family’s ruin did not faze her.

Pausing before crossing the street to the iron yard, a sinister voice froze her mid-step.

“Where do you think you are going, Princess?”