Once upon a time, there was a young queen, beautiful and beloved by her people for her just and wise rule. They called her the Red Wolf for her copper hair and fierce love of her kingdom, but not all were so enamoured by her. A rebellious faction known only as the Usurpers ransacked the capital and forced the young queen into exile. Escaping into the far reaches of the Hollowed Mountains, a young man with a mysterious past is enlisted by her guards to lead her across the border into the neighbouring country still loyal to her rule. The Dragon, they call him, for his sullen and quiet temperament and unmatched swordsmanship. The young queen, however, is not so impressed. But theirs is a love story that has no beginning, middle or end. She doesn’t know when she falls and he doesn’t know when she begins to mean more than a paycheck. It just happens like the first flakes of snow on frosted ground. Natural, beautiful and dangerous.
“Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams.” [x]