Page 119 of Heart of the Summer Queen

Yet the closer they drew to Netham, the harder it became for him to ignore the trepidation churning within his gut. His nerves grew tauter with every passing moment.

And then, when the city’s stone walls finally came into view, nothing could distract from the nightmarish images which echoed through his mind. Though they belonged to centuries past, they played out before him as if they’d happened mere hours ago.

Releasing her hand, Elaric leaned forth to shut the curtain on his side. Then he reached over Adara, closing the one beside her as well.

With both drawn, the carriage dimmed, faint light penetrating the silk. A golden glow rimmed the fabric’s edges, where it didn’t fully cover the window.

Frowning, Adara turned to him. To his surprise, she made no comment. Perhaps she would assume he wanted more privacy during their ride through the crowded streets.

Elaric inhaled slowly, forcing his body to relax into the bench. He listened to the clatter of hooves, the scrape of wheels on stone, the mutters of the guards escorting them.

And for the briefest of moments, his uneasiness began to retreat.

Then the cries erupted.

Every muscle in his body seized tight once more, his hand twitching toward his sword.

The shouts were so chaotic that they were almost indecipherable. He could only just make out fragments such as “king!” and “queen!”

His stomach lurched.

All he could think of was the bloodshed during his last visit here. The demands for his head. One woman claiming the cold which had seized her son last winter was his fault.

Adara’s eyes seared into him.

He didn’t turn, barely daring to breathe.

Perhaps the dimness would disguise the tension in his shoulders.

But then she said, “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” He didn’t intend to say it through clenched teeth. He swallowed, banishing the strain in his voice as best he could. “I’m fine.”

He could still feel her gaze on him and knew she was far from convinced, but she didn’t press him further.

After that, Elaric forced his body to ease lest she question him again.

Yet that attempt lasted only minutes. The carriage slowed to a crawl, while the shouts roared louder outside.

If the people demanded his life, a dozen guards wouldn’t stop them.

As much as he’d hated his curse, there was something to be said for the power—the invincibility—it had provided. With a mere thought he’d frozen hundreds of soldiers, arrows useless against his power. That rebellion had been instantly crushed.

Now mortal, he was powerless, and he loathed it. What use was steel against these masses? How would he protect Adara?

What if she perished because of him?

Despair washed over him. Magic had flowed through him that wretched day, yet he’d still failed to save Cerise...

His throat tightened at the memory.

Clearly his discomfort showed more than he realized, since Adara was already reaching for the curtain near her and pulling it open, flooding the carriage with light.

She gestured to the clustered, shouting crowd around their carriage. “They’re only curious. Many here have never seen you, and even those who have will know of your changed appearance and be desperate for a glimpse themselves.”

At the mention of his appearance, Elaric studied her face carefully. Since leaving Eruweth, this was the first time she’d mentioned it. Like then, he worried that her opinion of him had shifted. After all, the transformation of his appearance was so stark. If he couldn’t adjust to his own reflection, how could he expect others to?

Granted, he did now look more like the noble lord she might have married if not for him. But he no longer looked like the man she’d wed—the man she’d somehow fallen in love with—and he couldn’t decide whether it was a good or bad thing. Day and night, it burdened him.

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