Morgana has heard of a witch who lives where it is always winter.
Claire is lost, and so, so cold. Even the voice in her head has faded away, and she misses its teasing, its nagging, its gentle constant implacable presence.
The sleigh is upon her even as she begins to hear the bells jangle out against the harshness of the air, and when it stops beside her and the Lady steps out, she feels that same familiar tugging in her head.
“Come sit with me, child,” the Queen says, opening her furs, motherly. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Claire says.
OMG ALL THE STORIES ABOUT JADIS AND ALL HER PROTEGES o/
REMEMBER WHEN JADIS AND SAM?