Page 28 of Heart of the Summer Queen

After the May following Cerise’s birth, there’s a gap of six months when the kingdom was at war with Maecia, a kingdom I’ve never heard of and suspect no longer exists. When he writes in his journal again, he shares his thoughts on defending his kingdom and mentions how his last battle was as a young man during his father’s reign. His council implored him not to oversee the war in person, reminding him of how he has no heir, but Theron insisted battles can’t be won from the comfort of a palace.

After that, he writes about the daily struggles of running a kingdom, of lords and dukes and barons scheming for their own ends, of marriage proposals being sent for his daughter despite her not even having reached her second year.

In November 1013, the queen becomes pregnant with her second child. Rumors spread throughout the kingdom: that this child might also be a daughter, that his queen might never bear him an heir, that his younger brother might inherit the throne. Theron describes his brother as a well-meaning fool more suited to parties than court, a sentiment shared by many of his council, adding further pressure to the queen’s pregnancy.

His entries become infrequent once more. Then, a dozen pages later, he writes about the birth of his second child, which to the relief of his council, is a son. He names him Caltain, after his father.

While Theron doesn’t write heartfelt paragraphs like he did for the birth of his daughter, he does share his relief of having an heir, and how he didn’t realize the burden which was weighing on him until Caltain entered the world.

I flick through the next entries, deciding that as interesting as the workings of a king’s mind are, none of what I’ve read so far will help me uncover the truth behind Elaric’s curse.

Soon, I reach a page where Theron writes about the birth of his third child, whom he names after his wife’s father: Elaric.

My gaze trails back up to the date written at the top of the entry.

6th December 1017

I can’t help from my lips pulling into a smile, though a detail like the Winter King’s birthday shouldn’t intrigue me so much.

Here is concrete proof that he was born from a mortal mother, rather than ice and snow, like I once believed.

With how focused I am on Theron’s journal, I barely notice the sound of the library door opening and am slow in turning to look.

This time, it is my maids returning and not the king.

“My goodness, it’s cold in here,” Kassia says, rubbing her arms.

Elona glances around the library. “Is there a window open? It’s usually warmer in here than the palace.”

There isn’t a window open. If the library is colder than usual, I can’t tell, but it must result from the king lingering here earlier. Hopefully, his magic hasn’t set into any of the books. How disastrous it would be if there’s one in here which contains all the answers I seek but freezes before I can find it. Maybe I should check the shelves before continuing to read Theron’s journal.

“It’s fine,” I say with a shrug. “You know I don’t feel the cold.”

My maids hesitate, but the reminder seems to placate them.

Elona nods. “Dinner will be ready shortly.”

“Perfect,” I say. “Would you be able to arrange for it to be brought here?”

“The king has already informed us of your request,” Elona says. “But you’ve been in here all day. Surely a change in scenery would be for the best?”

She’s probably right. As much as I want to, I can’t stay here day and night until I find a way to break the curse. I’ll end up driving myself to madness. Maybe a break from the library would be beneficial. Since I’m only a fifth of the way through Theron’s journal, it’ll take me the rest of the night to finish it. I can sit and read it in bed.

“All right,” I say, closing the journal and standing. “Could you tell the kitchen staff that I’ll have dinner in my chambers?”

Kassia’s brows rise, and she eyes the book in my hands. Yet she doesn’t question me.

I quickly inspect the shelves, and once I’ve confirmed no books are at risk of freezing, I blow out the candle and head back to my room.

There, I sit on my bed, wrapped in furs, and resume reading Theron’s journal. Servants soon arrive with dinner, and I eat as quickly as I can before returning to my spot on my bed.

Two-thirds through, in the Year 1035, Theron writes of a violent plague sweeping across the kingdom. It spread from town to town, killing indiscriminately—rich and poor, young and old alike fell to the disease. Even the palace offered no refuge, first striking servants before reaching the royal family.

The first one to catch the disease was Cerise, and despite Theron’s pleas, the queen insisted on staying by her daughter’s bedside. A few days later, the queen also fell ill. While Elaric’s sister survived, his mother was less fortunate.

But the queen’s death wasn’t the only tragedy to befall the royal family that year. Months later, when the kingdom was recovering from the onslaught of the plague, both Elaric and Caltain caught the disease. Much of Theron’s writing during those next fateful weeks is full of grief, demanding to know what he did for God to punish him so severely.

In the end, just one son survived.

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