**Titan—Scott Buckley**
They said no state was as cold as Vaskor. And that saying rang true when Ember's journey began that morning when she woke up to a throbbing headache.
Her Mistress of Wardrobe had her dressed in a white gown lined with silver ivy that had been personally designed by Cecilia. Her belongings were loaded onto the cart that would take it to Thalor's port city, and all that remained at last was for Ember to bid an official farewell to the King.
Alone in her room with the Queen, she stared at her appearance in the vanity mirror, taking note of the woman that reflected in the clear glass.
Eight years ago, she was at least eight inches shorter, more freckle faced, more scrawny, and far more lost. She had seamlessly fit the image of Elara Thorne the sick princess because she herself had not yet recovered from the trauma of the night when she lost everything she never truly had.
