Page 99 of Heart of the Summer Queen

With every step, tension winds my shoulders tighter, fearing may Isidore appear any second. But as we reach the gate’s imposing arch, only stillness greets us.

The street ahead is morphed into a graveyard of ice, people shackled in their last moments. Guards stand with weapons drawn, faces tilted to the sky in warning shouts. Townsfolk are suspended mid-flight toward the gates, their features distorted with fear, aware until the end of their horrifying fate.

Bile scalds my throat. At least the family we found in the forest seemed to be entirely ignorant of their impending doom. Not like these people.

“We must move quickly,” Elaric says. His voice is low, as if to avoid disturbing the frozen statues around us. When I drive this sword through Isidore’s chest, they will all become flesh and blood again.

I clench my fists. No matter what, I will free them.

Faint lines etch Elaric’s brow as he continues, “While we’re less visible here in the city than outside, we’ll stand out amid all the frost.”

“Then it’ll be best to keep to the alleyways as much as we can.”

We plunge past the gates into the city, and the knot in my stomach twists more with every face we pass. At first, I keep my eyes on my feet, unable to bear their anguish. But with the carts,horses, and people obstructing our path, I’m soon forced to lift my gaze. The only way I can endure looking at them all is by uttering silent promises as I weave past, vowing to release them from Isidore’s spell.

Failure is not an option. Too many lives depend on our success.

Elaric turns a corner, leading us into a narrow side street. Here, with the buildings pressed so close together, the risk of being discovered from above is greatly reduced. But our pace slows considerably as we pick our way through a cluster of statues, their limbs outstretched toward escape.

The alleyway opens to a large market square, stalls laden with crystal wares: glistening meats, breads, fruits. More citizens are stuck in eternal hysteria, some pointing at the towering castle, others cowering behind the barrels and cart which failed to save them.

Elaric stops before leaving the safety of the alleyway. His gaze drifts over the square, assessing the frozen chaos beyond. “Perhaps we should make our stand here?”

While the market square is more exposed than the alleys, these narrow streets are too cramped to battle Isidore.

“So far, I haven’t seen anywhere better,” I say. “And there should be places for me to hide.”

Elaric gives a tight nod. “Here it is then.”

With that, he marches on, shoulders tensed as if already readying himself for the confrontation ahead.

He makes for a tavern, its open doorway swathed in darkness. A disheveled stall lies a few yards away, along with an overturned cart and heaps of crates. With plenty of cover provided here, no other spot in the whole square is more perfect.

Once we both stand in the tavern’s doorway, I turn to Elaric and say, “I’ll wait here for you to draw her out. Keep her talking,preferably with her back to the tavern, and when I’m within striking distance—”

“Adara.” He cups my face with both hands. While the gesture is sudden, his thumbs are gentle as they trace my cheeks. “It isn’t too late to change your mind.”

I drop my eyes, afraid meeting his will cause me to agree. “We’re already here.”

“I can fly us back.”

“Isidore will see us.”

“We would be in the clouds long before she realizes.”

I shake my head. “We can’t.”

“I can’t bear to lose you.” Upon hearing the agony in his voice, a part of me longs to concede.

“This is bigger than you and me,” I say, gathering my strength. “It’s bigger than Dalia, and all the other girls in your palace. Yes, we could return home and there’s a chance we could break the curse as it was meant to be broken, even if it takes years. But look at this city. True love might save you—it might save Dalia—but it won’t save these people. How can I turn my back on them, knowing that they’ll stay like this for eternity? Knowing that driving this sword through Isidore will save everyone?”

He sighs and presses his lips to my forehead. “Though I wish so dearly for you to reconsider,” he murmurs, “you wouldn’t possess my heart if you were not my maddeningly stubborn Adara.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t be.” He releases my face, thumb trailing across my lower lip.

Then his mouth is on mine and he’s kissing me with such desperation it hurts. I can’t help but kiss him back with the same fervor.

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