Page 120 of Heart of the Summer Queen

Steeling himself as best he could, Elaric said, “I know.”

Adara narrowed her eyes. “Remember our conversation?”

Somehow the screaming citizens seemed less terrifying than his wife.

“There is nothing to talk about,” he said.

Adara sighed so heavily that her disappointment speared his heart.

Only a week ago, he’d made a promise. Hiding the truth had nearly cost them their marriage once and so, from now on, they’d vowed to always lay everything bare before each other. No more lies, no more secrets.

Yet he couldn’t have this conversation right now. Not mere minutes before facing Cerise’s grave and the memories which haunted him to this day.

So, he took her hand in his and looked deeply into her eyes, hoping she could see the sincerity within them. “Later,” he vowed.

Her expression softened, and she leaned up, kissing his cheek. Her warmth helped mend the fractures in his resolve.

“Don’t shoulder everything alone,” Adara said, her voice low. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze to emphasize her point, and Elaric had little doubt she’d feel the tension withinit.“Whatever you’re feeling, I’m here to share it with you—always.”

Perhaps she had a point. Already he could feel the weight clinging to his chest lifting.

He tilted her head back and kissed her the way he knew she liked, the way which always had her moaning and arching into him. And as he did it now, in a slow, deep kiss, with his teeth grazing her bottom lip, he heard that telltale sound from the back of her throat. It turned his blood molten.

It took great restraint not to pull the curtain closed and take her right there and then, inside this carriage. How easily she ignited him. As he gazed down at her, with her glimmering eyes and swollen lips, his troubles retreated far into the distance.

Tempting though it was, he decided not to cause all of Netham to witness him claiming his queen. If only for Adara’s dignity.

Elaric wasn’t sure how he made it all the way through Netham without making some very questionable decisions. And while his mood had lifted from when they'd first entered the city, it fell again the moment their carriage drew to a halt.

A knock sounded on the door.

“We have arrived, Your Majesties,” a guard called.

Elaric didn’t move. It was as if he was chained in place, his gaze fixed on the bouquet opposite him.

Adara’s fingers brushed over his cheek and then nudged his head toward her, so he had no choice but to look at her. She cradled his face in her hands as she murmured, “I’ll be with you. Every step of the way.”

Rising slowly, she retrieved the flowers. Her hand clasped his as she waited for him to stir.

How long he remained shackled there, Elaric did not know. But at last he slid from the bench, following her out the carriage. She kept hold of his hand, even when they were outside.

His first steps across the grass were hesitant, half-expecting frost to emerge underfoot. Since his curse had lifted, he’d hardly left the palace, only venturing into the gardens briefly.

Yet no ice came. He expected that would remain startling for the foreseeable future.

His gaze slid across to the crumbling castle walls before them. All he could see were the spears which had lined the castle’s gates and what had lain upon them.

His breath faltered, limbs turning to stone.

Adara squeezed his hand, tugging him back to the present. Though she didn’t push him onward, it was enough to dispel the shadows for now.

Elaric managed a step forth, then another, until they passed beneath the portcullis, forever drawn open.

The castle was even more decayed than reported. Stone was eroded to grit, and weeds swallowed fallen archways whole. Despite the war raging here on his last visit, at least it had resembled a castle.

Elaric quickened his pace, praying the gravestones hadn’t met the same fate. That they wouldn’t be toppling over in worn fragments, engravings lost to wind and rain.

Adara matched his urgent strides, her hand still clasping his.

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