I wrenched open the door and stepped outside. The cold air was a mild relief against the fire burning in my face. I tried to control the bound fury, but it fought back. My feverish blood coursed through me, making everything feel searing hot and excruciatingly painful.
“The snow does what I tell it to do. If I wanted to bury you in snow, I would have. If I wanted to grow a wall of ice and trap you in it for 100 years, I would have. I let you find me. Now take me to him before I change my mind and keep this staff,” I said, my tone icy and filled with warning.