Page 37 of Heart of the Summer Queen

Elaric doesn’t reply, and just stares out the window at the world. Is the reason for his silence because he doesn’t know the answer, or is it because his curse prevents him from doing so? Or maybe it is neither, and he simply has no wish to speak about the witch who has imprisoned him for centuries.

fourteen

We fly day and night, clouds rushing beneath us. Though the carriage is comfortable for one made of ice, flying for so long without stopping brings me great discomfort.

I’ve no idea how Elaric can sit there hour after hour without needing to relieve himself. Perhaps his curse provides him with superhuman levels. Yet I possess no such luxury, and my bladder remains very much mortal.

I try ignoring the urge, willing for it to pass until he stops. Surely his immortality can’t make him completely immune?

But I wait and wait, and Elaric makes no mention of our stopping. In the end, I’m forced to swallow down my dignity and ask, “Would it be possible to stop the carriage tonight?”

At first, he looks ready to protest but then takes in my strained expression and his eyes soften. “It’s best we avoid doing so. I know resting in the carriage won’t be comfortable, but you must try to rest as much as you can.”

“I don’t mean stopping for the entire night,” I blurt. “Or even in a city. Just a few minutes. Anywhere. Maybe in the countryside. With plenty of trees.”

“Ah.” He hesitates, finding this matter as awkward as me. It is, however, not one which can be ignored. “Yes. Of course. We’ll be clear of Felton City in the next few minutes, and I’m sure there will be somewhere we can briefly stop. That will besoon enough?”

I give him a quick nod, though my bladder protests at the thought of having to wait even a few more minutes.

Those moments stretch on for so long, but true to his word, we begin our descent toward a field. Elaric stops us near a cluster of trees and then he opens the door, stepping out to help me down.

When I’m outside, he just stands there, shoulders rigid.

I jab my finger at the shadowy trees. “I’ll be, er, back in a few minutes.”

He gives a quick nod. “I’ll be in the carriage.”

Cringing inwardly, I dart past our winged steeds which nicker and flick their tails, like real horses.

I find a tree with plenty of bushes for cover and ensure I’m not visible from the carriage before bundling up my skirts and squatting, though I trust Elaric won’t look. I’m certain the prospect alone would mortify him, and the thought draws a silent laugh from my lips.

Once I’m done, I return to the carriage where Elaric is waiting, and it seems I was quick enough since the grass hasn’t yet frozen. I shut the door behind me, and we resume our flight.

An hour later, I manage to fall asleep upright but end up toppling over and hitting my head against the wall, and I immediately awaken.

“There’s a blanket at the bottom of the sack,” Elaric says, gesturing to it. “If you curl up on the bench, you'll be able to lie down.”

I find the blanket in the sack like he promises, and though it’s a squeeze, I curl up onto the bench. The softness of the blanket is a welcome comfort against the solid ice beneath.

This position allows me to sleep without accidentally knocking into the wall and waking up, but it means my legs feel cramped by the morning.

That next day continues much like the first, and I spend a good portion of it staring out at the land. The towns beyond Avella look much like our own, and I’m sure it would disappoint Kassia to learn this. But maybe they look unremarkable only because we’re so high up. Maybe if we were on the ground, they’d look far more interesting.

We stop twice, once in the morning and once in the afternoon.

On that second occasion, Elaric also leaves the carriage for a few minutes, and I’m relieved to confirm he remains mortal in some ways.

And more evidence of his physical limits comes later that evening.

By nightfall, the toll of using so much magic is clear on his face. His brows pinch together with strain. But more concerningly, his usually bright eyes are glazed over with the fog of exhaustion.

“We should stop for the night,” I say, regarding him carefully.

“We cannot.”

“We must. What will happen if you run out of magic and can’t keep the horses flying, and the carriage plummets to the ground?”

“I won’t let the carriage fall,” he says, frown deepening. “We have almost reached Belinda’s woods, and I have enough strength to sustain the spell until then.”

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