The cold bit at Prince Lucian’s skin as he crouched in the snow, his gloved fingers brushing over a fresh set of tracks. They were deep, pressed into the frost-covered earth—a stag, judging by the size. His breath curled in the air as he traced the path with his eyes, following the imprints deeper into the darkening woods. The sun was sinking behind the skeletal trees, casting long shadows over the snow, bathing the world in hues of amber and blue.

Then, the forest stilled.

A low growl rumbled behind him.

Lucian’s muscles tensed. Before he could reach for his bow, a rush of movement to his left sent his pulse spiking. A blur of gray fur lunged toward him, fangs bared—
An arrow whistled through the air, slicing so close to his head that he felt the wind of its passing. A sickening thud followed. The wolf collapsed mid-leap, its body hitting the snow with a muted impact. Blood pooled beneath its lifeless form, staining the white ground crimson.

The remaining wolves hesitated, then fled into the darkness, their howls fading with the wind.

Lucian exhaled, turning swiftly, his heart pounding. His gaze landed on the figure standing among the trees, bow still raised, her breath steady in the cold air.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Snowflakes clung to her chestnut-brown hair, which was woven into intricate braids before cascading freely down her shoulders. The soft glow of the dying sunlight kissed her features—high cheekbones, full lips, eyes like molten gold. She wore dark, form-fitting hunting leathers, her quiver resting against her back, black-feathered arrows peeking over her shoulder. A silver pendant hung just above her collarbone, glinting against the black fabric.

She was not a courtly lady, not one of the polished princesses his parents had paraded before him. She was something else entirely—fierce, untamed, and breathtaking.

Lucian straightened, meeting her sharp gaze.