Page 53 of Heart of the Summer Queen

“How long would the magic last?” I ask, turning back to Elaric. “Would the forest stay frozen forever or one day melt?”

“It depends,” he says. “If my magic completely seizes an object, its effect cannot be reversed.”

No wonder he so rarely leaves his palace.

All this poses a problem for our plan to search the forest. We’ll have to set foot inside it and likely spend considerable time looking around before we find the lake. Waiting until morning means stopping to make camp, and any cave or shelter would freeze over almost immediately.

“You could leave me to search alone on foot,” I say.

“I will not.”

“What alternative do we have? Flying aimlessly all night? Surely that would just exhaust your magic?”

After a long pause, Elaric sighs and shakes his head. Without another word, he turns around our carriage to begin our descent into the misty forest.

The view through the window becomes a blur streaked with the green of rushing treetops. Then, amid the foggy rush, the remains of stone walls and collapsed arches catch my notice.

“Wait!” I blurt.

Elaric stops, the carriage suspended in midair.

“There, look!” I point out the window at the crumbling towers of a castle, faintly visible through the fog.

“The Ruins of Festyn,” Elaric murmurs, peering out.

“Belinda said the lake lies near here,” I say. “We should land and look around. Or at least find shelter for the night.”

Elaric guides the carriage down through the misty canopy until we reach the center of Festyn’s courtyard.

Once landed, he rises and pushes open the door, offering his hand to assist my descent. Though undeserving of such consideration, I accept, ignoring the tingle rushing from my fingertips as he helps me down.

With both of us grounded, Elaric raises his hand and dissolves the carriage into thousands of glittering shards.

Upon closer inspection, the ruins are even more damaged than they first appeared. Several towers tilt at precarious angles, ready to collapse entirely. The stone lion statues standing guard along the walls are all decapitated or otherwise broken into pieces. Thick moss creeps up the cracked exterior walls, and cobwebs trail across the arched walkways like ragged ribbons. Countless years with no upkeep have weathered the castle into decay.

After surveying the surrounding ruins, I turn back to Elaric, intending to discuss which direction to begin our search. But the question dies in my throat as I take in his pained expression.

Deep lines are carved into his brow, and I can’t help but wonder what grievous thoughts weigh so heavily on his mind. I wouldn’t expect him to have any connection to this remote castle, so far from home. Perhaps a dear friend once dwelled at this court, or perhaps he visited here himself during those years he spent traveling beyond Avella.

“Have you been here before?” I ask gently.

Elaric pauses, eyes roaming across the ruins. “Once. Long ago for my cousin’s wedding. He was the Crown Prince of Festyn.”

“You had relatives from here?”

Elaric nods but offers nothing more than that, and I don’t pry further into such personal matters.

Is the sorrow in his eyes for his cousin? Or is it perhaps less for any one person, and more for the stark reminder of his own immortality? Three hundred years ago, these grand halls would have thrived in vibrant splendor rather than desolation.

The wind whips through the trees as rain pelts down in relentless sheets. My hair is soon soaked, clinging to my neck in wet tendrils. My gray cloak darkens and grows heavier with the moisture. Though raindrops hit Elaric, each freezes mere inches from touching him, transforming into pebble-size hailstones which clink across the courtyard like glass.

We stand in the downpour for several minutes before Elaric speaks again. “We should begin our search,” he says, attention locked on the weathered lion statue across the courtyard. I follow his gaze to see frost already weaving up the beast’s hindquarters, spiraling toward its back.

Glancing around, I realize the spread of his magic is not limited to the statue alone. The moss climbing the wall beside us is paling into wispy white tendrils. Within minutes, his magic will devour everything.

I turn back to Elaric and see even deeper pain shining in his eyes, the burden of his curse laid bare.

My heart aches to comfort him, to wrap him in a fierce embrace until all his grief fades. But that is no longer my place. Now my touch would just inflict more suffering.

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