Page 96 of Heart of the Summer Queen

With every step, the trees seem to offer less and less shelter until I start to consider whether we should retrace our path to find a more concealed route. But just as I slow, an edge catches my eye—one far too straight to be natural.

“Elaric,” I call. “What’s that over there?”

He follows my gesture, frowning. Curiosity piqued, he starts over to where I’m pointing. I scramble after him through the sparse trees, grass crunching underfoot.

When we approach, the strange structure reveals itself as a modest hut. Completely frozen like everything else across this accursed isle. The roof looks as if it was once made of thatch and the walls from crude rocks.

Elaric halts before we draw too close, scrutinizing the building ahead. The sparse trees around us offer little cover from the hut’s windows.

“Do you think this is Isidore’s home?” I whisper.

“It is doubtful,” he says after a moment. “Given her arrogance, she would likely choose somewhere much more lavish. Even Belinda’s cottage is more impressive than this. The castle would be my guess.”

“There’s a castle?”

He nods. “In the mountains. I glimpsed its spires in the distance when we flew here.”

Without another word, Elaric stalks toward the hut. I hastily rummage through our sack, seeking the sword. If this place doesprove to be Isidore’s lair, it’s best we stand prepared rather than be left weaponless.

My fingers close around the hilt, and I unsheathe the blade, bolstered by its weight. Only then do I follow him through the trees.

Elaric stops before the door, waiting until I stand beside him. Then he extends a cautious palm to push it aside.

The door creaks open. I wait for our demise to rush forth, but the door stops. Everything remains still.

Elaric’s eyes narrow as he peers into the cottage. It’s too dark for me to see anything, and with how he offers no remark, I suspect he doesn’t notice much either. With only Isidore living here in Eruweth, it’s likely this cottage is vacant.

He pushes the door open wider and strides through, each step slow and cautious. I keep close behind him, gripping my sword. Its jewels gleam in the shadows, but they’re no substitute for a torch. All they do is act as a beacon for whatever lurks in the darkness.

We descend deeper into the abandoned dwelling, floorboards groaning beneath us. All around sits humble furniture and wares immobilized in frost, remnants of lives now extinguished. My gaze lingers on a ceramic vase where a bouquet remains captured forever, delicate petals transformed into fragile crystal.

“I wonder what happened to the people who lived here,” I muse aloud, “whether they had enough time to escape?”

As we step into the next room, I find my answer.

A family surrounds the long-dead hearth at the center. My stomach flips at the sight.

The people of this kingdom had no warning before Isidore laid siege to it.

A woman is frozen mid-motion in her knitting, while the man in the armchair beside her is leaning back, a broad smile eternally carved onto his face.

And the children . . .

Nausea washes over me as I look upon them.

Two brothers are locked mid-play, fingers inches from each other. The younger boy rushes ahead, giggling as he glances back. A pastry lies in his hands, the elder brother’s eyes ever fixed on it.

“Elaric . . . ”

He reaches out, clasping my hand. For long moments we stand there in solemness, mourning the tragic fate of this innocent family.

Then anger burns within me. So fierce it scalds my heart.

“They did nothing wrong,” I seethe, “and yet here they stand in icy graves. For three hundred years.”

Elaric lets out a sigh, a note of regret tinging the sound. As if it’s his fault. But Isidore is the one responsible for the fate of this family.

Unless perhaps he is thinking of the Crystal Palace, where over three hundred girls dwell in similar prisons. I want to tell him that his situation is completely different, that he was seeking his Summer Queen to break the curse. Whereas Isidore had no noble reasons to freeze this kingdom. This is just senseless cruelty.

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