" What everyone else calls me. Lise. "

She follows silently. She's starting to feel overheated, which probably isn't right noting they're in the middle of an ice kingdom. Her hands also feel like somebody's stabbing them repeatedly, but since she can't even go anywhere without holding onto Ash she can't do much about that.

"Yeah, but I don't wanna be like everyone else."




The interior was smoky and dim. Battered wooden tables were scattered about the room, hosting a variety of unsavory-looking fey, from the redcap gang in the corner to the single, goat-headed phouka who watched them with glowing yellow eyes. Ash glided through the room, weaving his way to the bar, where a dwarf with a tangled black beard glared at him and spit into a glass. "You shouldn't be here, Prince," he growled in an undertone, wiping the tankard with a dirty rag. "Rowan's got half the city lookin' for you. Sooner or later, the Thornguards will show up an' tear the place apart if they think were hidin' you."

"Im looking for Sweetfinger," Ash said in an equally low voice. "I need to get out of Tir Na Nog, tonight. Do you know where he is?"

The dwarf shot Isiea a sidelong glance, his thick face pulled into a scowl. "If I didn't know you better, Prince," he muttered, polishing the glass again, "I would accuse you of goin' soft. Word is you're a traitor to the Winter Court, but I don't care about that." He plunked the tankard down and leaned across the counter. "Just answer me this. Is she worth it?"

She can't even hear any of the conversation. She feels dizzy, as if she's going to topple over at any second.

" then you don't have to call me Lise, but don't call me princess. "

Ash's face went blank and cold, like a door slamming shut. "Would this be considered payment for finding Sweetfinger?" he replied in a voice dead of emotion. The dwarf snorted. "Yeah. Sure, whatever. But, I want a serious answer, Prince."

Ash was still for a moment. "Yes," he murmured, his voice so low it was barely audible, not like Isiea could hear anything anyway. "She's worth it."

"You know Mab will tear you apart for this."

"I know."

The dwarf shook his head, giving Ash a look of pity. "You an' your lady problems," he sighed, putting the glass under the counter. "Worse than the satyrs, I tell you. At least they're smart enough not to get attached."

Ash's tone was icy. "Can you find me Sweetfinger or not?"

"Yeah, I know where he is." The dwarf scratched his nose, then flicked something away. "I'll send someone out to find him. You and the Summer whelp can stay upstairs until he shows up."

Ash pushed away from the counter. His face was still locked into that expressionless mask as he turned to Isiea. "Lets go."





"Then what do I call you?"

She doesn't even notice. Her ears are ringing so loudly, that if it wasn't just ear-ringing it'd probably deafen her.

" anything besides princess. "

He noticed that she was not feeling well, so he picked her up and carried her. As he made his way across the room, no one stopped them. The other patrons either ignored them or gave them a very wide berth. Which wasn't surprising; the cold radiating from the Winter prince was palpable.






"What about...yeah, I got nothing."

He can feel her shivering. And yet, she's also feverish. Which most definitely isn't good. And her cut still is bleeding.