Judas was looking at the woman standing in front of him.
Seraphina Frost. The Ice Witch. The anomaly who had rejected the Three Kings and turned the entire North District into a frozen wasteland.
She was tall, with skin as pale as fresh snow and hair the color of the deepest glacier ice—a vibrant, shifting blue that seemed to glow with its own internal light. Her eyes were kaleidoscopic mirrors of frost, beautiful and terrifying.
And she was smiling.
It was a soft, dopey, infatuated smile that looked completely out of place on her face.
She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, swaying slightly on her heels, staring at Judas as if he were the sun that had finally risen after a thousand-year winter.
"Warm..." she whispered, her breath misting in the air. She took a step closer, invading his personal space. "You are so warm."
Judas stiffened. He could feel the heat radiating from his back—specifically, from the five pairs of eyes drilling holes into his spine.
