Page 30 of Heart of the Summer Queen

My stomach twists. I close the journal and stare into the shadows.

Elaric’s father died facing Seraphina, leaving this story unfinished.

twelve

Gripping the journal, I bolt up from bed and hurry out the room. I could return to the library and search for more books to determine what happened after the king died, but I’m certain I know the truth and how it all links to Elaric’s curse. Asking him to finish this story will confirm my theory quicker than consulting more books.

Though my pace is frantic as I rush through the palace, I slow when I reach the innermost room of his chambers and remember to knock loudly on his doors, recalling the disaster from earlier this morning.

The doors open, and Elaric appears, wrapped in his navy robes. With how ruffled his hair is, he must have been sleeping.

“Did I wake you?”

“I wasn’t asleep.” He pauses, looking down at me, and then his eyes settle on the journal tucked under my arm. “Is everything all right?”

“I have questions,” I blurt. “So many of them. But if you’re tired, they can wait until the morning—”

“I’m not tired.” Elaric holds the doors open wider for me to step through and gestures to the armchairs beside the fireplace. As I sit, he clicks his fingers and blue light sparks, dancing over the icy logs. “Shall I ask a guard to fetch us wine?”

“I’m all right, thank you,” I say quickly, lowering my head as I recall the last time we drank wine together.

Why must everything remind me of our wedding night?

He sits in the opposite armchair, watching me. My mind races over every detail I’ve read of his past, realizing how much more human he seems to me than the last time I saw him, even though that was just hours ago. So much has changed since then, and I feel I have lived the first twenty-five years of his life with him through his father’s journal.

I open my mouth to say something, but Elaric speaks before I can.

“My father was such a reserved man that I once believed he possessed no emotions,” he says. “He would chastise me for any tears I shed when falling or scraping my knee in sparring, when Caltain always beat me. My brother was three years my elder and always so much taller and stronger. My father told me crying is a useless thing, serving only to sap my strength, and that my time would be better spent training to beat my brother. By the time I was eight, I had stopped crying.

“After that, the only time I cried in front of my father was during the funerals of my mother and brother—that awful year when pestilence devoured our kingdom. Yet during both funerals, my father didn’t shed a single tear. I decided then that he truly had a heart made of rock.”

My head snaps up, surprised by his words. “But—”

He interrupts me, a light smile playing on his lips. “But then I found his journal after his death and realized that his outward coldness only served as armor against the abundant emotionwithin. That is why I never truly understood my father until he passed from this world.”

For so long, I’ve believed that Elaric’s own stoicism results from his curse. But perhaps it is mostly to do with his upbringing.

“Do you keep a journal?” I ask.

“I would, if I could. Unfortunately, the journal would freeze long before I finished writing in it.”

“Oh,” I say softly.

“What were your questions?”

I lay the book flat on my lap and gaze down at it, mind still reeling. “Your father wrote that he intended to face the fire witch who was destroying the kingdom, but there’s nothing else after that.”

“Indeed,” Elaric says. “I was away when he decided to strike against Seraphina. Had I returned sooner, it is possible he wouldn’t have been killed.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It was a long time ago. But thank you.”

I hesitate, unwilling to probe so soon after discussing his father’s death.

Luckily, Elaric continues, “When I returned, few cities remained, crammed with refugees behind walls which offered no protection from Seraphina’s flames. Those who could fled and never looked back.

“My uncle had taken over as steward, since my sister’s sons were too young to rule. I expected him to cling to power given his greed, but he readily relinquished the throne. I suppose he was unwilling to bear the burden of saving a doomed kingdom.”

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