Fire. It was fire everywhere – across her skin, in her flesh, in her bones. The purple vines and thorns on her body were glowing, constricting her wherever they covered her. Chrysanthyllis gritted her teeth, enduring the pain best she could. Crumpled on the floor, she stared up at the empress and her cold green eyes.

“You will go to Huvestria castle and bring forth the man known as the snake of the battlefield.”

She dropped her head and her shoulders, breaking eye contact. The empress was finally doing it, banishing her.

And, just like that, the princess of Keashire empire vanished from the royal palace.

Chrysanthyllis found herself in a foreign land of sheer white with nothing but the clothes on her back. It was deathly cold. She stood in front of tall, looming gates, enclosing what she could only assume to be Huvestria castle. Grey stone walls, large dark windows, blue-tiled rooftops and intricate sculptures, it was a dwelling straight out of books detailing the vicious north.

Teeth chattering, bones quivering, she treaded along the castle walls until she came to the main entrance. She reached up to wrap her hand around a thick rope, and with all her might, she shook it. The deep, sharp clang of a bell broke the torrential silence of a cold, cold winter.

An attendant appeared. He was middle-aged, with kind hazel eyes and muddy brown hair, an unlikely candidate for the snake of the battlefield. He took one look at her sorry state, and without questioning what she was doing out in the dead of winter, he let her through the gates and into the warmth of the castle.

“I am Elliot Osham, the head butler of Huvestria castle. May I offer you a cup of heated malt?”

“Thank you.”

“Your name, my lady, if you assent.”

“Chrys.”

“Lady Chrys, I shall offer you a room, and you are welcome to stay for as long as you wish. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I did not see any travel bags nor carriages. Might I offer you some dry clothes?”

“Thank you.”

Chrysanthyllis was relieved to have a place to stay, but she was also wary. Elliot seemed like a decent man, but it was not normal for a butler to have the authority to welcome and provide long-term lodgings for a complete stranger. If Elliot was not the snake of the battlefield, he was most likely serving him. It was a mystery that could wait. A hot bath was more important if she wanted to retain her fingers and her toes.