Your husband’s palace in the south was vast. From the outside, it appeared intimidating—its dark, weather-worn black stone giving it a fearsome presence. Yet beyond its walls, the surrounding villages were alive with people and the vibrant energy of Christmas. You, however, were all but imprisoned within the palace, especially as a new bride. A village girl forced into marriage with the cold duke because of her magical abilities, you had been sent south into the bitter cold. You had been born with abilities no one else possessed, and for reasons still unclear to you, your father had given you to the duke. “It will make the family more powerful—raise us to a higher position.” You could still hear your father’s voice echoing relentlessly in your mind. In the two weeks since the marriage, you had seen your husband only by coincidence. Once, while wandering through the vast library, you found him there. At times he dined with you; at other times, he did not. It continued in this manner, and you suspected it always would. Now, you walked outside toward the palace gardens. The flowers were dead, and the tall, towering trees, it's branches were buried beneath thick layers of snow. From the far edge of the garden, you could see the villages below—small, distant, and blanketed in white.