Page 19 of Heart of the Summer Queen

“I—” He clears his throat. “I’ll get out.”

“No!” I blurt, unable to stop myself from imagining how he’ll look when he climbs out. No, not imagining. Remembering. And the looming canopy bed just makes it all far worse. “Stay there. Please.”

He hesitates before sinking lower into the water. Though not so low to hide his knees.

At least it’s only his knees . . .

“The curse,” I continue, seeking a much-needed distraction. “I searched the library and found that victims can’t speak or write about their curses. So I brought these”—I hold up ink and parchment—”to prove it.”

The king’s fingers curl around the edge of his bathtub. I don’t dare look directly at him and keep my gaze lowered. It’s safer this way. If I look at him for too long, I’ll lose the ability to speak.

“I also read every curse can be broken.” I pause, waiting for him to add something. He doesn’t. “You’re certain I’m your Summer Queen?”

“Without a doubt. You alone in three hundred years are immune to my power.”

“But what does any of it mean? I’m immune to frost, not fire, and I can’t manipulate it like you can. Being your Summer Queen just seems to mean I can break your curse, but I don’t know how.”

As expected, he offers no explanation.

“And what makes everything so frustrating is that the magic prevents you from saying anything. If only there was a way you could tell me the truth.”

He lowers his head. “I am sorry, Adara.”

My chest constricts at the softness in his voice. It was much easier when the only emotion I possessed for him was hatred. Now I don’t know how to feel.

“What about the witch who cursed you?” I ask, returning to the matter at hand. “Can you tell me who she is?”

“I cannot.”

“Is she still alive?”

No answer.

I try a different question. “How long do witches live for?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“How powerful the witch is,” he says. “Some have lived for millennia.”

I do not know which witch cursed him, but it’s possible she’s still alive. “Can you take me to her?”

He doesn’t reply, of course.

I run my hand down my face. Even if he told me who the witch is and I found her, it’s doubtful I’d convince her to revoke the curse.

And as much as I wish it were not the case, the cure for his curse likely involves true love. Right now, my only plan to save my sister is to wait until fate decides we’re madly in love.

But sitting around and doing nothing has never suited me.

“Adara,” he says, and the strained note to his voice causes me to look up. “It... It seems I’ve overstayed my welcome in here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The water.”

I force myself to look at him. All the bubbles have disappeared, and in their place is a film of ice. “Don’t tell me you’re stuck?”

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