He means every word, and that truth cuts deep.
The tears on my face are already cooling, a thin sheen pulling tightly across my skin as the cold fromthe windows creeps deeper into the room. My limbs feel heavy, my heartbeat uneven. A kind of hollowness stretches inside me, wide and echoing.
He doesn’t understand that I changed the shape of time and of fate itself, not just to protect his people, but to protecthimfrom the pain that would bring.
Maybe pain isn’t something he’s capable of feeling, though. Maybe there is more to him than the ice king standing before me, unflinching in his brutality, but I’m not sure I care to see it anymore.
“Nothing else I could have done would have deterred them, Wren, ” he says quietly. “And if by some miracle they had turned back, that wouldn’t have saved anyone. It would have only delayed the inevitable. We tried to tell you the first day we found you…when this war is over, only one side will be standing.”
I don’t know who I’m more afraid of…the humans who march to their deaths willingly for the sake of their own glory, or the four kings who won’t hesitate to send them there.
Chapter 19
Wren
The silence after my internal confession is a hollow thing. It stretches long enough for the steam from the tea and food to stop spiraling in the air with its warmth.
“I’ll leave you alone,” he says at last, his voice quiet but not gentle. “But only after I take you to the two courts that may have answers.”
That startles me enough to blink.
He tilts his head slightly, eyes catching in the pale light like polished ice. “I think your power may be tethered to two of our courts, and I’ve reached out already to visit them today. The Spring Duke is old, and the Summer Duchess older still. If there are answers to be found in the seasonal courts, they’ll be found there.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “And if I say no?” I ask, voice low.
His jaw ticks once. “Then I won’t force you. I know you think lowly of me, but I’d never do anything but support your personal decisions.”
That draws my eyes back to him. There’s no teasing or smug curl of his lips. No persuasive glint beneath his lashes. Just plain truth.
“But I hope,” he says, and it’s the softest he’s ever sounded, “you’ll accept the chance to know yourself, even if you never forgive me.”
The quiet that follows carries a weight of its own.
“I’ll go,” I whisper, then add before he can speak again, “but don’t mistake this for forgiveness, or trust.”
He nods, the movement slight. “I wouldn’t dare.”
***
When I step through the portal to the Spring Court, the change in climate is instantly felt.
For a moment, the air clings to my exposed arms like sap, thick with the scent of fresh-blooming flowers. I’m thankful Sylvin told me to leave the jacket behind before we stepped through or else I’d be suffocating in it.
Dozens of birds cry overhead, their calls melodic and overlapping. The sky is a clear, almost surrealshade of blue and beneath it a vast valley unfurls between red-rock cliffs that rise in sculpted waves on either side. Bright flowers push through every inch of soil, leaving no patch left untouched. Lavender, golden poppies, bluebells with glowing veins and curling edges blanket the landscape in color.
It smells sweet, yet it turns my stomach with the over-powering scent. It’s beautiful and smothering all at once.
Sylvin stands beside me, arms at his sides, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t speak as I take it in.
“I’m assuming it’s always spring here, hence the name of the court?” I murmur, watching a hummingbird with glowing green wings dart between two oversized lilies.
“Yes,” he says, his voice low. “Magic keeps it that way.”
We begin walking down a stone path lined with blooming vines that twist across the ground. Far ahead, the court rises with curved towers of pale rose quartz and marble veined with gold. Green vines spill down their sides in looping, curated patterns.
“It’s beautiful,” I say after a pause, and I mean it, but it doesn’t feel safe.
Sylvin must sense my unease because his eyes cut toward me. “Beauty doesn’t mean kindness,” he says. “Not here.”
