Page 100 of Heart of the Summer Queen

Even when he pulls away and stares down at me, I still feel his lips burning against mine.

“I love you, Adara,” he says, knitting his fingers through mine and pressing my hand to his chest. “And though this is not the path I would choose for you, I will not stand in the way of what you believe.”

I know it is not his intention to break me, but he comes so remarkably close that I’m forced to bite back the tears which threaten to fall.

I refuse to believe we will be anything but victorious. Nor will I invite fear by uttering a farewell.

Over and over, I repeat that mantra, until those tears release their cruel hold on me.

Then I raise my chin, mustering every shred of courage as I declare, “We will return to the palace together.”

He gives the slightest of nods before releasing my hand. As he withdraws, his eyes darken.

I don’t let his expression shake me. Fear will only prove a liability in the battle to come.

With a deep breath, he strides down the tavern’s steps. Every step echoes across the deathly silent market square, chipping away at my resolve.

How tempting it is to call him back, to return to Avella and abandon all we have strived for. Even if it means never freeing Dalia and all these people here.

But I have lived a selfish life for too many years, concerning myself with hatred and revenge, and it is time I made amends. I will face this danger head-on. If we fail, at least I will die with bravery rather than cowardice in my heart.

Elaric reaches the square’s center several yards away. There he turns, eyes finding mine, though shadows shroud his view. His longing gaze implores me to reconsider one last time.

Yet I stand fast as he pulls the glass vial from his tunic. As he pops the cork and lets it clatter to the street. As he tips the liquiddown his throat in one smooth motion, eyes clenching tight. He waits, hopes, even now that I will call this off.

Only when certain of my unspoken response does he open his eyes. They linger on my hidden form a breath longer before wrenching away.

Jaw hardening, he looks up at the distant castle. Then swallows hard and shouts, “Isidore, I demand an audience at once!”

thirty-six

Elaric’s shout reverberates through the market square.

My pulse hammers, and I sink deeper into the shadows, spine rigid against the wall behind me.

Spotting a slight gap in the masonry, I press my eye to it. Beyond, I glimpse Elaric standing alone among the hordes of glittering statues.

While the thunderous pounding of my heart steadies, the fire coursing through my veins burns fiercer.

I turn my eyes upward, though my restricted viewpoint prevents me from glimpsing the stronghold’s distant spires.

When Isidore shows no sign of emerging, Elaric raises his hands and conjures a gust of ice.

The blast slams into a building across the square, ringing through the city. The structure trembles so violently I fear the roof will collapse, smashing anyone within into tiny crystalline fragments. But the quaking ceases, leaving an uneasy stillness in its wake.

Isidore could not have missed such a powerful display of magic. No matter where she may be, whether she lurks in hercastle or is currently searching the isle for us, the blast is certain to have seized her attention.

Dread rolls through me.

“Isidore,” Elaric shouts again. “I demand to speak—”

He cuts off, looking up.

My limited view doesn’t allow me to see much of the sky, and I don’t dare leave my hiding place to look. Yet I know what he must be witnessing right now. Only one thing would have caused him to cut off.

Isidore herself.

Though I press further into the wall, it does little to improve my vision. My palms dig in harder, skin blanching as the blood drains from them.

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