Page 14 of Heart of the Summer Queen

“You didn’t mean to hurt them?” I exclaim. “What did you expect when you chose them at the Midsummer Ball?”

“I hoped they would be you,” he says, looking away. “My Summer Queen.”

“Until now, I’m the only bride who didn’t freeze. When you chose Dalia, you knew three hundred brides before her succumbed to your magic. You knew there was little chance she would emerge unscathed. Yet you chose her anyway.”

“I wish more than anything I did not bring such pain upon you.”

“You only say that because I stand before you now. What about the other grieving families who’ve suffered because of your actions? I don’t know why you seek a Summer Queen, whether it is to control your magic since you clearly have no leash for it, but your reasons don’t erase the hurt.”

“Adara,” he says, voice brittle and broken.

There’s no denying his guilt, yet I cannot help cutting through the veil of excuses, exposing all the suffering his choices have wrought.

“When you chose me, you didn’t know I would be immune to your power,” I say. “You chose me and risked my life like all theother girls. You can’t claim that you didn’t intend to hurt me as well.”

“And you intended to hurt me even before you arrived at the Midsummer Ball. You wanted to be chosen, to seduce me, to drive a dagger through my chest. That was why you sang, wasn’t it? To draw my attention.”

“It was.” The words ring in my ears even long after I’ve said them.

He heaves a sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you were dancing with a dagger beneath your dress that night.”

“And poison.”

He snaps around to face me. “Poison?”

I shrug. “It didn’t work.”

“When?” he demands.

“One afternoon when we were playing chess outside. We were interrupted when you were called for a meeting with the Duke of Walsworth.”

“You tried to kill me twice,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“There were no other opportunities.”

“Why must you be this cruel, Adara?”

“At least I don’t deny my sins and pretend to be innocent.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand what?”

“Do you think Iwishedto keep choosing a bride year after year, knowing they were all but certain to freeze?”

“Maybe,” I say. “After all, you stow away all their bodies as if they’re trophies.”

His jaw hardens. “To protect them.”

My heart skips a beat. “What protection do the dead require?”

“They are not dead.”

“Is she alive?” I blurt. “All those girls, are they alive?”

“I do not know.”

“They’re either dead or alive,” I snap. “Which is it?”

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