Page 148 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
Ethan’s wings ignite, the sharp stench of burning feathers choking the air as he howls in agony beneath the weight of the flames. A bubble of light ripples from his skin, expanding outward—his magic strong enough to repel the inferno. With a roar, he charges toward the entrance, punching through solid stone as if it were water, leaving a jagged hole in his wake.
Willow chases after him, drawing the worst of the heat with her. The temperature drops slightly, but the flames still rage, devouring everything in their path.
Beth and Elio seize the Shadow King, dragging his unconscious, charred body toward the tunnels.
“Come with us!” Beth pleads, her voice shaking with desperation.
“I have to speak to her.”
“Aidan!” she cries again.
I lean down, pressing a swift kiss to her forehead. “Get them out. I’ll see you soon, Songbird.”
Through the swirling smoke, I watch Beth and Elio disappear into the tunnels, struggling to carry a severely burned Damian. They’re safe—for now. But I can’t follow them.
I just have to see her.
I stagger forward, past the gaping hole Ethan left behind, and into the burning remnants of the ballroom. Reaching for the banister of the grand staircase, I recoil in pain as my hand grazes molten metal. The once-magnificent railing has become a twisted, warped ruin.
The heat is relentless, a living thing that presses against my skin, smothering everything else. Flames lick at the stone walls, devouring tapestries and wood beams with a crackling roar that drowns out all other sound. The air is thick with smoke, acrid and choking, a bitter mix of charred oak, burning fabric, and molten iron. My fire magic hums beneath my skin, keeping the inferno from claiming me, but even that can’t dull the sharp sting of ash scraping my throat.
I dodge falling timber, the beam crashing to the ground with an ear-splitting boom, sending embers skittering like angry fireflies across the stone floor. The Eternal Halls, once so grand, a symbol of the strength of my kingdom, are crumbling around me. Every step feels precarious as the structure groans and shudders, a beast in its death throes. I push forward, my bare feet sliding on slick patches of melted varnish, the firelight casting long, flickering shadows against the walls.
"Willow!" I shout, my voice hoarse, swallowed by the roaring blaze. She has to be here. My sister is as much a part of this fire as the flames themselves, her magic feeding the destruction as though it’s a living extension of her will. The thought both enrages and terrifies me. The smoke claws at my lungs as I push toward the heart of the octagonal room, its center glowing with an unearthly light. Every instinct screams at me to turn back, to let the place fall, but I can’t leave without her. My family. My responsibility. Even if she’s the arsonist, even if this was her doing, she’s still my sister—and I’ll drag her out of this hell if I have to.
I find her at the heart of the ballroom.
“Willow!”
She turns, her amber eyes almost red in the firelight. “The thrones are gone. Poof. Just like that. Isn’t it curious? I always thought they were imbued with magic, too, but I guess not.”
Flames lick at every surface of the room. She stands at its heart, unbothered by the heat that would have killed me, had the powers of the Summerlands not ripped into me the moment she melted the chalice.
Our clothes didn’t survive the flames, yet the jewels carved into her skin remain. Her chest and arms glint with precious stones, their alloy links glowing red-hot, creating the illusion of armor. She looks formidable—untouchable—while I stand before her, exposed and vulnerable.
“What have you done?” I manage, the shock of seeing her again nearly eclipsed by the horror of what she’s become.
“I changed the world for the better.”
“You’re burning down our childhood home. Hundreds of innocents will die. You…you killed our mother.”
“Sacrifices need to be made for the greater good.” She gestures toward the center of the Eternal Hall, where her marital bed once stood. “Every single one of them—besides maybe Elio—would have died tonight if not for your meddling. The rising tides would have cleansed the Continent, a fresh start without alliances and politics poisoning everything.”
“Why?” My voice cracks. “Without the Chalice, anyone with ambition and a sword will think they can claim power by force.”
“Better that than forcing children and grandchildren to become pawns in a lifelong quest to maintain it.” Her gaze hardens. “The system was broken, Aidan. Wicked. Now every king and queen of Faerie will be chosen by the Gods—not Ethan Lightbringer or anyone like him.”
A heavy sense of guilt weighs down my heart. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from him.”
She scoffs, her lips pursed in a bitter pout. “The real Aidan wouldn’t have stood by while that man used and abused me. But they took the fight out of you, didn’t they? Washed away your memories and toyed with your essence. I tried to cure you, but nothing worked. I was so miserable that Ezra helped me fake my death just so I could escape.”
The mention of my old friend sends flames down my neck. “Where is he?”
“Gone. Vanished. Probably dead.” She doesn’t wait for my reaction. “Beth wouldn’t have survived without your magic—the shared power of the Summer King.” She bites her bottom lip, her gaze narrowing as though she’s slowly coming to terms with the ramifications of Beth’s unlikely survival. “When did you marry her?”
She’s right. Beth’s ice magic barely slowed the flames, and even Elio, wielding the strength of a glacier, struggled to contain the blaze.
“Last night. On your boat.”
