Azalea shifted her gaze from Elena to Marcus, seeing a shared resolve in both their faces. She was deeply moved that these people were willing to go to such lengths to help her.

“I’ve thought about it too, but is it even possible? In Aden, a divorce can only be initiated by a man. It must be the husband, father, brother, grandfather, or uncle, whoever heads the family. I don't think my father would support such an idea, and as for Albert... I’m not sure.” She looked at Marcus.

“My dear, Azalea is right,” Marcus said.

“I know, Marcus,” Elena said, holding up a hand. “But we cannot simply leave things as they are.” She sighed. “Perhaps we should speak with this Albert? We don’t have much money, but we could ‘buy out’ Azalea. I know how terrible that sounds, but I see no other way.” Elena stood up and began to pace the room.

Marcus watched his wife. “Actually, it might work.” He clasped his hands in front of him and rubbed them together. “We could use Count Bernier’s scheme.”

Elena looked at her husband in surprise, then let out a light laugh. Azalea, confused, watched them.

“Count Bernier’s scheme?”

“There’s this man, Donovan Bernier,” Marcus began, his voice tinged with the disdain of a master craftsman for a dishonest man. “A wretched person, but his fraudulent schemes allow him to get whatever he wants. When his lawful wife proved barren, he brought a girl into his home, registered her as a distant relative, and told his wife she would bear a child for them so the lineage would have an heir. Except, that girl was actually his mistress.”

Azalea frowned, trying to follow the connection.

“And how does that help me?”

“It’s simple,” Elena picked up the thought, her eyes flashing with excitement. “Bernier used this to legally ‘replace’ his wife. He convinced his spouse to sign papers transferring the rights of household management to this ‘relative’ for the sake of the child, and then... he simply threw her out, announcing she was voluntarily entering a convent, leaving the heir in the family's care. There was no divorce, but she vanished from the world while he saved face.”

Marcus nodded.

“We can use Bernier’s scheme, but adapt it to our needs. We won’t show up as saviors, but as merchants. I’ll tell Albert that Elena and I are a childless branch of the old Rosenthal line, and we desperately need an heir since we haven't been able to produce one ourselves in all our years of marriage. I doubt he’s heard that our family is ruined, and even if he has, we can say there’s a sister’s side of the family that left an inheritance to the male line, which can’t be claimed without an heir.”

Azalea held her breath. she began to understand where he was going.

“We’ll offer him a deal,” Marcus continued. “We will officially ask him, as your husband and legal representative, to approve a petition for your ‘adoption’ or entry into the Rosenthal family registry. Then, in exchange for a ‘compensation’ in gold, he will have to initiate a divorce.”

Elena smiled triumphantly.

“To him, it will look perfect. Aristocrats passing by picked up his flighty, runaway wife and decided to use her lineage for their own purposes. He’ll get the money, regain his bachelor status, and save face before his command. He can say he ‘gave’ you to your relatives for your own good.”

Azalea gave a small huff.

“It’ll look as though I’ve decided to acquire a legal, younger mistress,” Marcus joked. “But in reality, you’ll be our niece.”

Elena stood behind her husband and placed a hand on his shoulder, Marcus covered it with his own.

“If it doesn’t work, we’ll think of something else. However, first we must settle one thing, dear. Do you want to be part of our family?”

A silence fell over the room.

“We aren’t very rich. Our family is ruined. We can’t offer much. Right now, Elena and I live on what we make from trade. Mostly, we buy goods in the trading capital of the Eastern Empire and bring them here. We’ve been saving money to buy back my family’s estate and restore it, but I think it would be better spent on saving you.”

As Azalea listened, she didn't notice a tear escaping down her cheek, which she hurried to wipe away. Seeing this, Elena rushed to comfort her.

“I do,” Azalea said quietly. “I’m already indebted to you for saving me from a cold death, and now you want to buy my freedom as well. I don’t know if I have the right to accept, but I want this.”

“You have every right, dear.” Elena wiped her face and smiled gently.

Marcus clapped his hands on the table. “Right then! It’s time to pull my finest suit out of the trunk. It’s been gathering dust for a long time, but it’s time to use it to throw some dust in his eyes,” Marcus said briskly, patting his sides to cheer the women up. “Windbreak Outpost is a three-hour ride from here. I’ll take Gaston. We don’t even need to hire a carriage.”

Azalea chuckled, her nose turning a funny shade of red from the tears.

“Windbreak?”

“Yes, the border outpost. The easternmost point of Aden.”

Azalea froze with her mug in hand. The steam from the tea tickled her face, but that same icy chill from the forest suddenly stirred within her again.

“But... I live in Greyholds.”

Marcus and Elena exchanged a look. A heavy, bewildered silence filled the room. Marcus slowly lowered his hands.

“Darling... Greyholds is nearly ten miles west of here. Between there and Windbreak, it’s a three-day journey on a good road. And in a storm like that...” He trailed off.

“Three days?” Azalea sniffled, her eyes widening. “But I left the house last night. I only walked through the forest for a little while, and then the snow started...”

Elena went to the window and pulled back the curtain. Outside, the sun shone brightly, illuminating snowdrifts that had already begun to settle and crust over.

“Yesterday? Azalea, the storm began two weeks ago, and it was only yesterday that the snow finally stopped.” Elena frowned, looking at the girl with growing concern. “We were supposed to travel through Greyholds. It’s the shortest route to the border, but they told us at the outpost that a terrible snowfall had been going on there for a week, blocking all the roads. That’s why we had to take the detour through Windbreak.”

Azalea felt the room start to spin. She touched her face with her hand. Her skin was smooth, though by all the laws of nature, it should have turned into a crust of ice on that very first night.

“Two weeks...” she whispered. “But to me, it was only an hour. Or something like that.”

“An hour?” Marcus slowly rested his hand on the table. His gaze became intensely serious. “Listen, Azalea. A person cannot survive in the forest for two weeks without fire or food when the snow is waist-deep. The fact that you are standing here is a miracle.”

“Two weeks...” Azalea looked at her palms, which still felt like someone else’s. “But I... I only remember the cold. And then...”

She fell silent, searching for words. She couldn't tell them about buses, phones, or a blue-haired goddess in sneakers. They would simply think she was mad. But the silence in the room was becoming too heavy.

“I remember...” she said softly, looking up at Marcus. “There, in the forest, when I couldn’t breathe anymore. I saw... someone, and then I fell asleep.”

Marcus and Elena stood still. In the borderlands of Aden, legends of the “Snow Maidens” and “Keepers of the Way” still lived. Spirits who sometimes led the lost out of the storm if they were pure of heart or had unfinished business.

“A spirit, then...” Marcus slowly crossed his chest with an old guild gesture. “The boundaries of reality are thinning at the borders now, Azalea. Many see things that have no name. But if a spirit decided it was too early for you to die, it means it has great plans for you.”

Elena only squeezed the girl’s shoulder tighter. There was no fear in her eyes, only a quiet reverence for the miracle.

“The old folk say that spirits do not come to those who have no strength within them. You didn’t just survive, Azalea. You were chosen. And if Fate itself intervened to pull you from beneath the snow, then who are we to argue?”