One of the ice doors abruptly opened, and a group of males spilled out.
There were four of them, and they were all talking and laughing as leminai in their goblets splashed over the sides. They grew silent when we neared.
Given their fine clothing and the casual way they held themselves—as though they didn’t have a care in the world—I knew they were members of the court.
“Prince Norivun?” one of them called. He looked young, perhaps my age, and had short white hair that curled slightly at the ends. Similar to the prince, he wore black leggings and boots, but his royal tunic was a deep red with embellishments—the color of the nobles from Osaravee Territory. Another male stood next to him with a trimmed beard and bright eyes. He also wore red.
“Who have you brought?” the bearded one asked with a sultry smile.
The prince’s fingers curled into my flesh. “Not of your concern, Sirus.” The prince didn’t stop walking and strode past them, his expression icy.
All four males bowed when we passed, but the one with slightly curly hair gave a flirtatious and knowing wink in my direction. Despite their questions, I was fairly certain they knew who I was.
A low growl came from the prince just as the two guards at the ice doors opened them with a flourish. We didn’t even slow as the prince breezed into the throne room.
A cool wind kissed my cheeks when we passed over the warded barrier, and my stomach dipped. Hundreds of nobles stood in the room, talking and laughing in small groups as music played and enchanted trays floated around the room carrying food and drink.
My breath sucked in at how beautiful everything was. Ribbons of silk draped across the ceiling as enchanted balls of ice hung suspended in the air. Puffs of snowflakes blew from the icy spheres even though the room was warm and dry. Similar to the grand walkway, all of the snow evaporated before it could touch any surface.
Ice sculptures decorated every corner, jewels sparkled from all of the females’ necks, and the males’ attire was just as dashing as Prince Norivun’s. And the music . . .
A symphony of sound strummed through the room in a haunting melody that made me want to dance and sway.
But before I could get too caught up in the atmosphere, a vibration of the prince’s power shot out of him. It washed over me, like a breeze that caressed my skin but didn’t chill. Even though his aura moved around me, the strength of it felt powerful.
Everyone standing in our direct path to the throne scattered out of the way, and a hush fell over the room as all eyes fell on the prince and then me. Only the haunting music continued, as enchanted harps, violins, and woodwinds played under magical fingers.
My heartbeat ticked faster and faster with each step that passed, but the prince didn’t slow. His strides ate up the room as the silence grew. Ahead, the king and queen waited.
Everyone watched us, as though we were puppets in a circus, and despite my hair color being hidden under the prince’s illusion, my wingless back wasn’t concealed. Whispers immediately erupted, from both the males and females, and a flush worked up my spine.
“That must be her.” A low tone from a female reached my ears. “They say he’s keeping her in his wing.”
“I heard she’s his courtesan.” A trill laugh followed.
“She’s certainly mouthwatering,” a male replied. “Despite her shaved wings.”
Another male snickered. “I’d hide her away too with a body like that.”
A warning growl came from the prince, low in his throat, and his eyes shot daggers at everyone talking behind fans and cupped hands. Those at the receiving end of his ire immediately quieted.
Ahead, King Novakin waited on his throne. Beside him, the prince’s mother, Queen Lissandra, sat silently.
My breath sucked in when I beheld the queen of the Winter Court. Silvery-white hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her hair was perfectly straight and entirely smooth, and I couldn’t help but wonder what her hair looked like without her illusion. But unlike me, wings stretched behind her and were carefully fitted into the slots of her throne chair. She sat quietly, not talking to anyone or interacting in any way, but she had a youthful appeal even though she was several hundred winters old, and her eyes lit up when she saw the prince.
The king, however, looked every bit of his eight hundred winters. Gray hairs streaked through the white hair at his temples, and deep wrinkles grooved the corners of his mouth. But despite his mature look, his eyes were sharp and his body still fit. He held a goblet in one hand, and his forearm was propped on one of the throne’s armrests. Black wings draped behind him as he spoke with a noble to his right, but as soon as the hush fell over the room, the king’s attention shifted until he was staring directly at me.
The king handed his goblet to a servant, who hurried off, then King Novakin straightened on his throne, his gaze sharpening in my direction.
My knees began to tremble as the reality of why we were here hit me. The prince believed that I could save our dying continent. He’d taken me prisoner because of that, and now everyone was curious to meet who the prince had hidden away in his wing.
Blessed Mother, how have I gotten into this?
“Father.” The prince stopped at the stairs leading to the throne and bowed.
I automatically dipped into a deep curtsy. The noble that had been conversing with the king bowed at the prince, then inched down the stairs as the king inclined his head.
“Norivun, who have you brought?”
The sound of the giant ice doors opening behind us pricked my ears, and I turned slightly just as the four males that had been in the outer walkway stepped through them.
The two males in red moved forward just enough to hear us but back enough that they remained discreet. When they stopped at Lord Crimsonale’s side, my eyes widened.
The Osaravee archon watched me from the crowd, his expression shrewd.
I whipped back around as the prince said, “This is Ilara Seary, daughter of Mervalee Territory.”
I brought my fist to my chest and curtsied again, my entire body dipping while I held onto the prince with my other hand. My knees were shaking so badly now I feared I would fall if I let go.
“Not of noble birth yet beautiful enough to be a princess.” King Novakin was smiling when I straightened, and the tight ball that had become my stomach loosened, if only a little. “And what brings you to the Court of Winter, Ilara Seary, daughter of Mervalee Territory?”
My lips parted, but the prince bit out. “Might we have a word in private, Father?”
King Novakin raised an eyebrow, then waved his hand toward the guards at the door. They opened the ice doors with a flourish.
Nothing else was said. All of the nobles filed out of the throne room, as though used to being dismissed with a wave of the king’s hand even if they were in the middle of a ball.
Once the room was empty, save for the guards at the door who were far enough away that they probably couldn’t hear us, Prince Norivun said, “I believe Ilara is the key to the problem I’ve been dealing with.”
The king sighed. “Ah yes, the problem.”
I frowned at the king’s superfluous tone as the prince replied, “Ilara’s affinity has manifested, and she can create orem.”
The king’s features sharpened, and he looked me over a second time. “Impossible. Only the gods can create orem.”