Page 31 of Heart of the Summer Queen

“Your father wrote you left in search of Belinda, another witch,” I say. “What happened?”

“I bargained with her for a weapon capable of withstanding magic and slaying a witch. The Sword of Veliantis.”

I sit up. “Did it work? Did you kill Seraphina?”

“It was difficult to get close without being burned, even with the enchanted sword to fend off her magic, and I lost countless men battling against her, but yes. At long last, I slayed the witch and rid Avella of her terror.”

“But her sister, Isidore, was maddened with rage,” I continue, hairs rippling across the nape of my neck, “and sought revenge against you. Killing you wasn’t enough, so she cursed you with winter for eternity, and the only way for it to be broken is through your Summer Queen, whom you’ve spent the past three centuries searching for.”

Elaric says nothing. I know he cannot confirm this part of his past, for it directly concerns the matter of his curse. But with the way he stares so steadily at me, I know with unfathomable certainty that what I’ve said is the truth.

“It’s true love, isn’t it?” I whisper. “That’s the only way to break your curse?”

“Adara . . . ”

My shoulders sag. I may have unraveled the mystery of how Elaric came to be cursed, but it does not change the fact the cure still likely involves true love.

“What happened afterward?” I ask.

“After I killed Seraphina?”

I nod. “In your father’s journal, it sounded like she destroyed much of the kingdom. I suppose you would have had to rebuild much of it from the ashes.”

“Unfortunately, yes. Many regions had become barren wastelands and with my... current state, I could not travel the kingdom without freezing the land. I locked myself up in here, the Summer Palace—”

“Summer Palace?” I ask, arching a brow.

“Long ago, this part of the kingdom was remarkably sunny,” he says with a laugh. “Of course, that quickly changed from themoment I made this palace my permanent home. But it is far away from any major settlements, and I gave my sister our other palace just outside of Netham.”

“It’s in ruins now,” I say, recalling the times I’ve traveled to the capital with my father and seen the derelict palace in the distance.

“It is.” He presses his lips together. “Though I was the first in line for my father’s throne, I was unfit to inherit it. I wished for my sister to reign in my stead, but the council at the time would not accept my request. They even opposed her reign as Queen regent until the day her eldest son came of age.”

“What did the council think of you remaining king?” I ask. “Did they mind, magic and all?”

“Some minded, their homes just destroyed by magic, and now their king held power too, albeit a different sort. But others took comfort in my new strength, believing I could defend against any future catastrophe. Still, those who feared me were vocal about their preference for my uncle to take the throne.”

“Even though they once saw him as a useless drunkard?”

“They feared magic more than they feared my uncle’s reign.”

“What of your uncle himself? You said that when you returned, he was quick to yield the throne. After Seraphina’s defeat, did he ever take an interest in ruling?”

“At first, the burden of a recovering kingdom was a heavy one, and my uncle detested work most of all. Yet as the years passed and Avella returned to normality, his interest in the throne became an obsession. It didn’t help that I remained here, keeping my distance from the kingdom and occasionally seeing my council. Over time, my people seemed to forget that I was human and began to regard me as something other.”

I don’t meet his eyes. What he says echoes a belief I too have shared of him until recently.

“People blamed me for the most bitter of winters, even those who resided on the other side of the kingdom, far away. After a while, I began to wonder whether I was somehow responsible for the severe weather which seemed to worsen year by year following Seraphina’s defeat. Yet even if my people’s suffering was because of me, I could not abdicate my throne. My uncle’s influence had grown so far that my sister’s sons would not even be considered as my successors. Despite his flaws, he knew how to entertain a crowd and courted most of the lords on my council. Soon, most became enamored with him and his false promises. In reality, he would have gambled away every coin in the palace coffers within nights of being crowned king. It was not for the sake of my kingdom alone that I could not yield my crown to him, but also because of my sister.”

I look up, regarding him. “Why? Because you feared he would have had both her and her children dispatched to secure his reign?”

“Partly,” he says. “But it was mostly because of the way he always looked at her. I remember my father once telling me that my uncle competed with him for my mother’s hand and his obsession didn’t fade until long after they were wed. My sister greatly resembled my mother with her golden hair, and apparently my father once complained to my uncle about the never-ending stream of marriage proposals, and my uncle joked my father should wed her to him.”

I blanch.

“I believe it was before I was even born. My sister wouldn’t have even been five years old.”

“That’s . . . ” I swallow down my nausea. “Horrifying.”

---