“We only came to ask of our son,” my mother said softly, her sweet voice carrying through the room like a bird’s call. “To ask what became of him when he traveled to this court to voice his concern over the dying crops. Please let us go.”
Prince Norivun’s jaw ticked. “Guards.”
Ryder, Sandus, Nish, and Haxil appeared, hovering over the prince’s side before they descended the throne’s steps to my terrified parents.
“Hold them.” The prince’s eyes turned icy. Brutal. It was the same look he’d worn right as he took the life of Mealow’s husband.
“No!” I screamed. I tried to run from the back of the room, but wisps of fog drifted around my limbs, holding me in place. I pumped my legs faster, but I didn’t move.
“Please don’t kill them!” I shouted.
Tears ran down my cheeks as I pushed myself harder. I needed to move. Needed to get to them. I had to save them.
But no amount of effort propelled me forward. I stayed locked in the back of the room as sweat beaded on my skin and my muscles burned. It was as if my legs had been anchored to the floor, stuck to some sort of magical treadmill that kept me from saving my parents no matter how hard I tried to reach them.
“Please, Prince Norivun. Don’t kill them. I beg of you!” I called again. I cried harder, sobs racking my chest. “Please! Please!” I said over and over.
But the prince ignored me, and his guards’ grips tightened around my thrashing parents.
My eyes scrunched closed when the Bringer of Darkness unleashed the terrible strength of his affinity. I felt it wash over me after it passed through my parents. Felt it when their lives ended as swiftly as the raging northern winds.
My breath came out in a rush as I forced my eyes open. A twitch convulsed my father’s body, then my mother’s, before they both lay still as the prince’s horrific magic sucked back inside him.
“No, no, no. Please no. They can’t be dead. They can’t be.” I fell to my knees, suddenly able to move as sobbing overtook me.
But my pleas didn’t stop even when my parents’ vacant eyes gazed skyward from the cold stone floor.
“Please, don’t let it be true. Please, no.”
“Shh,” a deep voice whispered in my ear. Strong arms lifted me from the cold floor, then I was moving out of the throne room as the scent of cedar and snow drifted around me.
“But they’re dead. They can’t be dead.” Another sob shook my chest, and the strong arms slowly lowered me.
Then I was lying on a cloud of warmth as softness settled over my skin, and a hard and heated slab nestled against my back.
I cried harder as the throne room around me faded, and then all I felt was warmth, a slight stroking of fingers untangling the hair from my face, and a deep voice that shushed me to sleep.
My eyes fluttered open when a knocking sound roused me, but I wanted to keep sleeping and stay buried in the mountain of warmth that encased me.
I snuggled deeper into the bed, loving the feel of the soft mattress and the thick covers keeping me warm. This was heaven. A true luxury. Like no bed I’d ever slept in before.
Wait. A bed?
My eyes flew open.
I bolted upright in an actual bed just as a knock came again. A young female was calling through the door, telling me that it was time to get dressed.
All I could do was stare at the sea of pillows, sheets, and thick soft blankets surrounding me.
I was in the prince’s bed, when I specifically remembered going to sleep on the floor. My attention snapped to where Prince Norivun had slept.
He was gone. The bed was entirely empty save me. I reached a hand across the mattress. Cold sheets slid beneath my fingers.
“Thank the Mother,” I whispered. I must have crept into the bed after he’d left, probably when I’d grown too frigid on the hard floor.
“Lady Seary!” the female outside of the room called again when I continued to sit there.
“I’m up!” I finally called. “And I don’t need assistance. I’ll get dressed!”
Another knock came. “Apologies, but the prince insists.”
I grumbled as I rubbed my eyes, and then a flash of a dream came to me. My parents. The Winter Court. Strong arms around me.
I frowned as the knocking resumed. “Please, he said I must assist you.”
The foggy dream vanished as I processed her words. Reluctantly, I pushed the covers back, then padded to the door and opened it. A young timid-looking female stood in the hallway beside Haxil. The guard gave me a nod, a slight smile curving his lips.
I returned the greeting, then shifted my attention back to the young servant. She was probably less than twenty winters, and she bobbed her head multiple times as she held out an armload of folded clothing. “These are for you. I’m to help you change into them.”
My confusion grew as I stared at her, then I looked to Haxil for answers, but he just shrugged.
“But I have my own clothes.” I opened the door wider to let the girl inside, then shut it behind us.
She didn’t waste any time smoothing the rumpled bedsheets before holding out her hands to assist me out of the sleepwear Milis had provided. “I’m afraid you can’t wear your own clothing.”
“Why not?”
She wouldn’t meet my gaze as she lifted my shirt. “I’m sorry, my lady. The prince said we were to burn them, not wash them.”
My hair—still silver from the prince’s illusion—brushed my shoulders when I spun to face her. “He did? And is that what was done? They’re gone?”
The young servant’s eyes widened. “Yes, ‘tis correct. I’m very sorry. I was simply following orders. The prince gave me your clothing this morning and said to destroy it.”
My chest heaved, but I forced my breathing to calm. It wasn’t her fault, and even though my pants had been worn threadbare in some areas and engrained with dirt and stains in others, it still infuriated me.
Once again, the crown prince was doing as he pleased, not caring nor considering that those were my things.
Arrogant cad.
“My lady?” the young fairy said as she twisted her hands. “May I help you dress?”
I forced my tight-lipped smile to smooth. “Of course. I’m sorry. It’s not you I’m angry with.”
She bobbed her head again, a relieved exhale escaping her, then she held the fresh undergarments out for me to step into.
Somehow, amazingly, everything the young servant had brought fit. On top of that, the shirt didn’t have wing slits in the back, and the pants felt as though they’d been crafted specifically for me. I marveled at that when the clean material spun from the softest cottonum and warmest woolen blend settled over my skin.
Eyeing my new pants, I was relieved that the prince hadn’t commissioned a dress for me, as was the common choice among noble fae females. Instead, I’d been given supple black leggings that were thick and warm.
The rest of the clothes were all done in the Winter Court’s palate. The sweater was a thick cable-knit that rose to the top of my neck and slid down my arms to the base of my fingers. The beautiful royal blue brought out the natural sapphire in my eyes. Coupled with the silver stitching woven throughout the pants and top, along with the fur-lined black cape rimmed in silver and blue flowers carefully stitched along the outer edge . . . well, I felt like a true princess, which would probably make Nish snicker.