Page 55 of A Bride for the Winter King
The political game of “look how pretty my reaper city looks from afar” is getting old quick, and I can barely hide the jitters. The large meal I had back in Snowhaven sits heavy in my stomach. It’s been years since I worked up such a genuine appetite, but I was simply famished.
Thera inches closer, the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes deepening. The Summer Queen’s auburn hair is pulled tight away from her face and tucked in a bun behind her head. Round, rosy cheeks contribute to hide her true age, but she’s paler than usual. Her ruby and amber crown rumbles with constant, barely-contained flames, but the fire burning inside the Summer crown is not as steady or powerful as it once was. “Would you give me a frost apple if I vowed that no one else would ever find out?” she whispers with an affable smile.
Her body language remains a picture of ease for the others’ benefit, despite the unusual—and frankly troubling—request.
My Hawthorn only produces three to four apples each year, which makes them particularly rare, and while the use of those apples falls into my per-view, the official channels for other monarchs to procure one can be incredibly complicated and tedious, the wait list already spanning across decades.
They are only supposed to be requested by a reigning royal to grant immortality to their half-Fae, mortal children—or the rare mortal spouse. Some try to skirt the rules for a particularly beloved lover, but that’s clearly not the case here. I consider Thera in a new light. The sickly tint of her skin, along with the words she used, hint at her secret.
A frost apple loses its properties when cooked or enchanted to look like anything else, so if she’s promising that no one else would find out, it means she needs it for herself.
I give her a discreet incline of the head. Thera’s been queen for centuries, and I won’t insult her by prying into her health or asking why she doesn’t want anyone to know she’s sick.
“Thank you, Elio. I won’t forget this.” The emotion in her voice contrasts with her breezy, casual behavior as she moves to leave.
“Brr. I’m freezing,” Freya whines.
My royal peers all thank me for my hospitality before stepping out through the travel mirror I had installed for this specific trip, but Damian hangs back.
I raise a brow at the Shadow King. I haven’t seen him without his clawed black and white mask in decades. “You look better, my friend.”
“I am. You know you can count on my support, right?”
I observe him for a moment and ponder the possibility of mentioning Lori’s heritage. He could help me get rid of her by offering her a place in his court, where she belongs. But I can’t bring myself to snitch on her. Shadow seeds often wash out during training.
Asking her to leave Wintermere is one thing. Alerting Damian to her existence so that he can possibly strip her of her magic…is another.
“Your support?” I say instead.
He arches his scarred brow. “Elio, you can trust me. I can still trust you, right?”
Just asking the question makes it clear that he doesn’t. Damian is about the only ruler I trust not to move against me, but he’s always speaking in riddles. Once, we were much closer, but he locked himself in a prison of secrets long before I became king.
“Of course. I’m glad to see you in good shape again,” I say in lieu of goodbye, burying my hands in my jacket’s pockets.
I’m not in the mood for games. My lieutenant Kiro is waiting for me to inspect the sleet storm that blocks the entrance to the Frost Peaks mines. I walk down the snowy hill to Sara who’s overseeing the next challenge.
The unconscious brides are being carefully transported to the starting point of the mountain trek.
My friend tucks her short blond hair behind her ears at my approach, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Everything good with your guests?”
“Yes.” I search the sleighs for one bride in particular, almost convinced I won’t find her. “How many of them dropped out?”
“They all drank the potion,” Sara squeaks.
My pulse flutters. “All?”
Her blue eyes dart to the ground between us. “Yes. Even Lori.”
My fists curl. She promised she’d leave… Lori might have been a little desperate when she vowed to obey, but she still promised not to go through with the rest of the pageant. And I wasn’t kidding when I told her Winter would make her life hell for ignoring my command.
Strange and powerful forces rule over the mountains.She could die out there…
I shake out the urge to scream and ball my fists at my sides. Lori broke her promise to me. She made her choice.
“Make sure she doesn’t make it to the Ice City in time to win,” I breathe.
Sara glances up from her clipboard. “But?—”
