Page 116 of Heart of the Summer Queen

The fields surrounding the palace’s mountain have always been starved of color but now wildflowers burst through the sea of green, petals of every hue under the sun. We stay there for a while, staring out at the landscape as the wind wisps through flowers and grass alike.

Enraptured by the tranquility ahead, I barely notice that Elaric is trembling.

“Are you all right?” I twist awkwardly to glimpse his face, but our angle restricts my view.

Elaric is slow to respond, transfixed by the mountain before us. Terrain once so bleak and foreboding now shines so bright and beckoning.

Eventually he says, “I never imagined...” He trails off, heaving a deep sigh. “Never did I dream of seeing the Summer Palace restored to its glory.”

“It’s a title well deserved.”

“You ought to see these slopes in late spring,” he says, nostalgia warming his voice, “when the wildflowers are even more abundant.”

We linger a moment more before Elaric spurs our horse on. We climb the winding mountain road which leads to the palace at the very top.

As we ascend, the wind grows fiercer, causing the temperature to drop. Yet it’s nowhere near as cold as the night Father and I traveled up here for the Midsummer Ball. Though it’s been mere months, it feels a lifetime ago compared to all I’ve endured since.

I dig my nails into my palms at the thought of Father. After I reunite with Dalia, we will seek his whereabouts. Maybe Elaric can advise on how best to locate him. And perhaps curiosity alone will lure Father here when news spreads of Summer returning to the Crystal Palace, all traces of winter banished forevermore.

SummerPalace.

I suppose adjusting to that change will take as long as adjusting to Elaric’s golden hair.

When we reach the palace’s walls, I almost weep at the sight. Gone is all the ice, replaced with gleaming white stone that’s so smooth and flawless it appears to be marble. Vibrant color now infuses everything: the verdant leaves adorning nearby trees, the flowers blooming from perfectly trimmed bushes.

As we stop before the gates, a guard calls down, “Who goes there?”

“The King of Avella,” Elaric says, “and his queen.”

There’s a brief pause, and then a great rumbling as the gates swing open.

We ride into the courtyard, and Elaric dismounts. He holds out his hand, helping me down beside him.

Barely have our feet met the ground before guards swarm around us, their captain exclaiming: “Your Majesty! You have returned!”

Elaric surveys the men. “What have I missed during my absence?”

“Everything,” the captain says, shaking his head in disbelief. “First the palace turned from frost to stone, and then hundreds of girls appeared from nowhere, flooding through the halls. But”—he eyes Elaric’s golden hair—“I suspect Your Majesty may understand these mysteries more than any of us do.”

“What of the girls?” Elaric asks. “Where are they now?”

“Confined to all the guests’ and servants’ chambers,” the captain says. “We were unsure what to do and thought it best to detain them here until we received your orders.”

“Release them immediately,” Elaric commands. “And inform them that those who have no place else to go may stay here as our honored guests.”

“I will see to it immediately,” the captain says, gesturing to the other guards.

“Wait!” I call before they leave. “Were there any men among them as well?”

“There were.” His brows pinch together. “They protested so greatly to being detained that we had to physically restrain them. We later recognized them as the men who broke into the palace several months ago and captured you, Your Majesty.”

My heart skips a beat.

“Where are they now?” Elaric demands.

“We locked them in the dungeons for the time being.”

“They are also to be freed,” Elaric says. “Is that understood?”

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