Reina Morow had three days left to cut the mark from her wrist before the frost moon closed the season and made her refusal permanent. She pulled her sleeve down over the faint glow and stepped into the village square. The bond mark had burned there since the ceremony last week, the same ceremony where the man chosen for her had looked at the priest, then at her, and walked out through the side door. A refused bond did not fade on its own. It had to be severed by someone who knew the old bond magic. And bond magic was heresy here. She went to the baker first. He was kneading dough at the front counter, sleeves shoved to his elbows. Reina laid a silver coin on the flour. "I need the name of someone who studied the old ways. Anyone. I'll pay more." His hands did not stop moving. "I bake bread, Miss Morow. Try the priest." "The priest is the reason I'm asking you." He pushed the coin back with one floured knuckle and looked past her at the door. She left before he called someone. The herbwoman said the same thing in fewer words. The weaver pretended not to hear. By afternoon Reina had asked six people and been refused six times. Her green gown dragged in the slush. The fur at her waist was damp. The mark under her sleeve had begun to itch, which the midwife had warned her about: refused bonds turned inward if left too long. She walked out past the last fence and into the birch woods because she had nowhere else to go. She sat on a fallen log and pressed her thumb against the mark until it hurt. Something moved in the brush. A fox stepped out onto the snow. It was the size of a hound, its coat pale silver, and it had more tails than one animal should have. Nine, fanned behind it like slow smoke. It watched her with yellow eyes and did not run. Reina did not move. Every child in the village knew the stories. The silver fox came only to those with a true bond. It was the one creature in the province that could not be fooled about love, and the one creature the priests would burn on sight. The fox walked to her. It lowered its head and touched its nose to her wrist, right over the sleeve. The mark flared hot, then cold. The fox turned and walked three steps back toward the trees, then stopped and looked at her. Waiting. Reina stood. Her hands shook. The creature in front of her was proof that a true bond existed for her somewhere, and it was also the only guide to bond magic she was going to find. Following it would mark her as a heretic to anyone who saw. Not following it meant the refused bond would keep turning inward until it killed her. She stepped off the path and went after the fox.