Page 3 of Heart of the Summer Queen

That somehow, he isn’t the monster who killed my sister.

If all this is true, then last night I tried to assassinate an innocent man. A man who cares for me...

No. It can’t be true. During the nights leading up to our wedding, I considered all these thoughts countless times. Any doubt I feel is because of the way my body reacts to him. He is a villain through and through. With my own eyes, I witnessed him freezing Orlan—the captain of Father’s guards, the man who trained me to wield a sword.

I must stay true to my purpose.

I knit my fingers together and lift my chin.

Even if he doesn’t intend to kill me anytime soon, I can’t stay here. Never again will he trust me, and if a blade through the chest won’t kill him, what will?

My quest for vengeance is long over. It never stood a chance to begin with.

Sighing, I turn my thoughts to Father.

The last time I saw him, he was riding home in a carriage after nearly succumbing to the palace’s dungeons. Later, I received a letter from him which contained a coded message to let me know he was fleeing home, but I don’t know where he currently is. He could be anywhere in the world by now.

If word escapes that the Winter King’s bride tried to assassinate him and failed, I worry Father will return to the palace and demand my release. Then the king will capture him and throw him back into those merciless dungeons, and thistime he wouldn’t be so lenient. He would use Father to force me to give him what he wants.

But news of my treachery may not spread that far. Perhaps no one except the king knows what happened last night, and with his great concern for his reputation, it’s possible he’ll want to keep it that way.

Nonetheless, I need to escape and find Father, and then the two of us must leave this kingdom.

On that last thought, I throw aside my blankets and pace over to the doors. I push and pull on the handles, doing everything I can to open them, but his entering hasn’t helped the lock to loosen. It’s as unyielding as ever.

I peer at the bowl of porridge on the floor. Plumes of steam swirl from it. I doubt it’ll stay warm for much longer. The palace slowly turns everything in its walls to ice. Except for me and any items or people I touch.

To fight my way out of here, I need my strength. Even if I’m not hungry, I must eat. I start toward the bowl but, after three paces, stop.

Fighting out of this prison won’t work. I’ll never make it past the king and his guards. A more tactful approach is needed.

My best bet is to not eat a single spoonful of porridge. When my maids arrive, they’ll find me in bed and think me sick from my lack of appetite. Catching them unaware will be easier than the Winter King.

But Elona and Kassia may not come alone. They may arrive with an entourage of guards, or even with the king himself. Yet I’ll wait day after day for my chance, for them to believe me defeated. My claws clipped. My spirit crushed.

And then I will flee the Crystal Palace once and for all.

two

It takes hours for Kassia and Elona to appear. During that time, I stare out at the palace gardens through my window, the events of last night playing on my mind. All day, I see fewer servants going about their business than usual. The king must have ordered most of them to stay at home. Perhaps so no gossip of what happened can spread. Nor does anyone remove the wedding decorations from the gardens, as if he wishes to convince the kingdom that the two of us are currently enjoying a blissful marriage.

Which couldn’t be further from the truth.

I’m out of bed when my maids arrive. I hear their voices from down the corridor before they reach the door and dive beneath my furs.

Though my maids took so long to appear, my wait is rewarded by their coming alone. My eyes stay shut, but their footsteps indicate it’s just the two of them. No guards. No Winter King.

Their strides are hesitant at first, and I wonder what he’s told them. Given their caution, it seems they must know the truth.

But then their footsteps grow stronger and surer, and I can’t be certain of what they know.

There’s a clink of metal as one of them presumably picks up the bowl which the king left for me.

“She hasn’t eaten anything,” Kassia whispers.

“The queen must be as unwell as His Majesty said,” Elona murmurs.

My initial suspicions were correct. He doesn’t trust my maids with the truth.

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