Page 28 of A Bride for the Winter King
His eyes dart to the guard before he returns to my side and lowers his voice. “He can’t force you to drop out. The scene he just made assures us an easy win in the polls. People here crave drama and entertainment over a happy ending, and you are now the embodiment of both.”
Arms crossed over my cloak, I scoff, and a puff of white smoke rises in the air between us. “You should have at least warned me.”
Seth pats my shoulder in a soothing manner. “Don’t lose sight of our mission. The end justifies the use of an old, creepy wedding gown. Trust me. We have him now.”
Chapter 11
Storms
ELIO
The pesky little cameras Paul tinkered with for this year’s pageant emit dull electronicbeepsas they follow me past the ropes and into my private study. I ice every single one of them and watch them shatter into pieces with a dark grin.
Byron spares them a nervous glance.
I hold out my index finger. “I don’t want to hear one word about the cameras. Where is Sara?”
“She’s outside, giving the dandelion fluff a piece of her mind?—”
Another camera rushes in, and I blast it with an icicle, making it explode in mid-air. The metal pieces tinkle over the paved stones.
Byron’s wings twitch at his back, the Faeling clearly biting his tongue.
“You’re going to go back out there and tell Paul that if one more of his fucking cameras flies intomyprivate space again, he can pack his bags and find himself a new job.” I rake a hand through my hair, about ready to tear it off my skull. “I need to see him, and get me your mistress, too.”
“At once, Your Majesty.” Byron flies off.
After he’s gone, I choke on a ragged breath.
What I saw out there is impossible. A fucking tear stings my cheek, and I wipe it off with a snarl. My limbs shake violently, my entire nervous system throwing a fit, and I grip the back of the velvet armchair in front of me to get a hold of myself.
Adrenaline pulses through my blood as my magic goes haywire the way it used to at the beginning of my reign, back when I was still adjusting. Ice spreads from my feet and cracks the paved stones. A pure wave of frost rolls across the study and washes off on the walls and windows. Its undertow brings my heart to a full stop, more potent than any spell—more dangerous than the darkest soul I ever hunted back when I was still part of the Sun Court.
I’m losing control, and that’s not good. The magic I carry is strongest and most volatile near the solstice, and I can’t afford to lose my grip on it.
Paul and Sara knock on the door a few minutes later.
“Come in,” I say.
They tiptoe inside the room, taking stock of the damage. I’m the perfect picture of pissed-off royalty, but the room itself is in ruins. Tapestries peel off the frozen walls, the windows shattered, and the centennial floors cracked in many places.
A cold breeze slips past the jagged shards of the broken windows.
“I want her out. I want her outnow,” I growl to no one in particular.
“The votes already catapulted her to first place—” Paul says, but I cut him off.
“I don’t care.”
His eyes soften. “She looks so similar to Iris… It’s only natural for you to be shaken.”
Sara scoffs at his bad faith. “Similar? Come on, Paul. She’sexactlylike Iris.”
“Alright, she looks exactly the same.” He slicks his gray hair over his head. “But there must be a reasonable explanation.”
“Blood magic?” Sara offers.
Paul chokes on her hypotheses and taps his heart with his fist, the mention of blood magic tickling his religious side. “No need to be quite so pessimistic. A good-old glamor would do the trick. We could disqualify the girl for cheating if we find out how she’s doing it. A glamor of such magnitude threatens the integrity of the pageant.”
