Page 28 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
Four castle guards in sleeveless gray bodysuits accost us, emerging from the guardhouse next to the gates. As they approach, their hands settle on the hilts of the swords strapped to their hips, grips tightening with each step.
The leader flaunts a Royal Guard insignia and braces his arm across his chest. “Please identify yourselves.”
The streets of Tundra are amongst the safest in the realm, so it’s unusual for this neighborhood, the one closest to the castle and home to the wealthier classes, to be so well-guarded.I remove the hood of my rain jacket, unveiling my red locs and a face that the moths in these parts will not soon forget.
The royal guard pauses, his gaze immediately flying to the ground. “Your Highness. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”
Anywhere else, I’d be greeted with torches and pitchforks, but Wintermere’s soldiers know their king is fond of me.
I rub a bit of warmth back into my hands. “Take us to the king.”
“At once, of course.” The man bows at the waist and escorts us past the gates and up the hill.
The buzz of the city fades as we ascend the winding staircases of the first battlement to reach the castle parapet. Despite the cold, I can’t help but wonder at the sight before me. The Lake of Souls stretches out in the distance, a vast expanse of turquoise ice gleaming in the fading sunlight, its surface as smooth as the glass of a giant mirror. Watching it, I wonder if I was born in the wrong kingdom. Would I have thrived here, where power does not come from alliances and politics, but with one’s ability to face death head-on? A blue rose?
Then again, I was always too hot-blooded for ice magic.
The guard leads us inside the maze of tall cedar hedges, the firs offering shelter from the wind. Its twists and turns take us to the king’s gardens and the Hawthorn, toward the place where my friend Iris rests for all eternity, not far from where I saw her die. The ice statue erected in her name stands tall on the other side of the clearing, and I pause.
The guard takes a sharp right toward the closest entrance, but Seth hangs back, waiting for me.
My heels dig into the snow as I glimpse at Iris’s coffin, the transparent glass pane on top turning orange in the twilight. I’m tempted to march over there to pay my respects, but with Seth watching, I feel intensely vulnerable.
Before I can make up my mind, the guard clears his throat to get my attention. “The royal chief of staff is right in here, Your Highness.”
“Are you okay?” Seth asks quietly.
“I’m fine.” I shake off the nostalgia and enter behind Seth into Sarafina’s office.
The guard holds the door open for me, but he doesn’t follow, and quickly closes the door behind us.
Sara looks up from her white birch desk. “Seth! You found her!” She jolts to her feet and sweeps her shoulder-length silver hair behind her ears. “Elio will be so pleased.”
Seth beams at the royal chief of staff. “Hope you’re glad to see me, too, Sara.”
Sara comes over to peck his cheeks, and an uncomfortable itch blooms between my shoulder blades.Are they friends?
“You sent a man after me, Sara? I thought you were woman enough to do the chasing yourself,” I tease.
She blushes at that, greeting me with an awkward handshake, her life-long crush on me a constant obstacle between us. “Welcome, Devi. I wish I could have come for you myself, but I couldn’t leave Wintermere as things are,” Sara explains in lieu of an apology. “Seth might have told you, but we’re expecting the seven crowns by tomorrow.”
“So Tundra is to be the next capital of Faerie? What does the new Summer King think of that?” I ask.
Sara braces both hands on her hips, clearly irked by the subtext of my question. “Aidan understands that Wintermere offers a prime strategic meeting point in any or all further dealings with the Tidecallers. It’s not like there were other options—the Solar Cliffs are too hard to reach, males are not welcome in the Red Forest, and nightmares spilled out of the Dreaming even though we’re done with Morheim, making the Shadowlands very dangerous indeed. Spring politics areweakened by Freya’s injuries, and Storm’s End is still reeling from the loss of their King. It’s not like we planned this, you know. Elio couldn’t care less about Wintermere being the next capital.”
I open my palms in surrender, suppressing a smile. “Easy, I’m just messing with you.” Sara’s so easy to rile up, it’s hard to resist, but I take the edge off and add, “I also heard you finally got Elio to stop being a baby and fess up on his true feelings. Well done.”
“Well… You know how he is,” she stammers at the praise.
I hide my hands in my raincoat’s pockets. “I sure do. You’re a Saint to put up with him.”
Sara kept me from making a terrible mistake with Elio when the Winter King asked me to shoot him with a love arrow. I only wanted to offer his yearly Yule Pageant bride a sweet wedding night—some fireworks before the eventual funeral. But turns out Elio was secretly in love with another woman. A love so pure it broke the curse he was under. Though, until his new wife beats the odds and survives the whole year, I’m not sure I’ll quite believe it.
Compared to his curse, mine is quieter and more private. It touches only me, and no one else suffers the cracks I keep hidden.
Sara holds her arms to her chest, covered in a deep-red blush. “The Tidecallers are rumored to be positioned on a remote island near the fringes of the Breach, and we are ready to take the fight to them. We just need to get the other crowns to agree.”
My brows scrunch together at the news. “And you know who the Lord of the Tides is?" I need to fact-check their intel before I say too much.
