She and Rhaela move to stand with their father, though Rhaela and Izzy continue watching each other.
“Shoulders back,” Lady Uanna instructs sharply when I turn to say goodbye to her, as well. “Remember—every gesture, every breath must be perfect. The court watches everything.”
I straighten instinctively, and she nods once, apparently satisfied, before sweeping toward her own waiting carriage. She turns and gives Ivrael one long, hard look before she steps inside.
The courtyard erupts in a flurry of movement as everyone begins to depart. Carriages pull away, ice horses stamp and snort, final farewells echo off the manor walls. I remain rooted in place, watching the firelords and Uanna leave.
“Are you ready?” Ivrael’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. He stands by the coach door, one hand extended toward me. The golden sparks in his eyes seem to dance as he waits for my response.
My fingers tremble slightly as I place my hand in his. His skin burns cold against mine, and my core tightens at the touch.
As he helps me into the coach, his scent makes my pulse race.
Izzy follows, settling beside me on the plush velvet seat. Ivrael joins us, and the coach door closes.
The coach lurches forward, ice horses’ hooves crunching through the snow, then leaps into the air. My stomach drops as we soar upward.
Below us, Starfrost Manor shrinks until it looks like a dollhouse carved from ice, its windows gleaming.
It’s not long before Izzy is dozing beside me, her head resting against my shoulder. The events of the past few days have exhausted her, though she’d never admit it. I’m grateful for her steady warmth, even when everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control.
My gaze drifts to Ivrael. Golden sparks dance in his ice-blue eyes as he watches me, and heat floods my cheeks.
He’s not the monster I thought he was when he first bought me in the Trasqo Market. Not the heartless duke who threw me into his kitchens, who bound me with magic ribbons.
But he’s not Prince Charming either, no matter what fairy tale transformations he might undergo.
And I’m nobody’s princess.
The thought catches in my throat and lodges there.
Because that’s what he wants, isn’t it? Not just a princess, either, but a queen. Someone to help him save his dying world, to restore magic to this frozen realm.
Maybe even someone to love the monster he believes himself to be.
The carriage hits a pocket of turbulence, and my hand shoots out instinctively to steady myself. Ivrael catches it, his fingers burning cold against my skin. The contact sends electricity racing up my arm, and my breath catches as memories of this week flood back—his hands on my body, his mouth on mine, the way he made me feel both powerful and powerless all at once.
I pull away, wrapping my arms around myself.
That’s the real danger. Not his ice magic or his dragon form or even his political schemes.
The real danger is how easily he makes me forget everything else when he touches me.
How close I am to admitting that I love him.
Below us, the landscape stretches endlessly white, broken only by the shadows of mountains in the distance. We’re flying toward the Ice Court, toward whatever plots and plans await us there.
Toward a future I’m not sure I’m ready to face.
Because I’ve read the fairy tales—the real ones, not the sanitized versions. I know what happens to queens in those stories.
They’re always beautiful, always powerful.
Always evil.
Is that what waits for me at the end of this journey? Will I have to choose between becoming the villain or watching this entire world—this impossible, beautiful, terrible world—crumble into nothing?
I can still see the twin moons hanging in the sky, despite the morning sun. Their pull affects all magic here, Ivrael said. Makes it stronger, wilder, harder to control.