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Father.
Juliana’s grip on Briarsong tightened. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” he returned. “Winter is not a safe place for anyone. Come back to Autumn.”
“As if you care!” she hissed.As if I have any intention of listening to you ever again.
Markham’s face hardened. “Never make the mistake of thinking I don’t care for you, Julie,” he said.
“You’re hardly one to talk of mistakes.”
Markham stared at his boots, and did not reply.
“Why?” she asked finally. “Why did you do it?”
“For the same reason I’ve done everything in life,” he said. “Forus.To keep you safe, to bring your mother back to us—”
Juliana chilled. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head, sighing. “It doesn’t matter now. What Ladrien promised… it was not the answer I sought. Not a price I could pay.”
“A priceyoucould pay?“ Juliana screeched, stepping forward, blade extended. She jabbed it at her father’s throat. “People aredead! People are dying! I might never…Youaren’t paying the price! Everyone else is. You may have destroyed Faerie, damned the entire mortal world, and for what?”
Markham stared down the end of her blade. “For love,” he said, with a sincerity that buckled against her, scraping at her bones. “Always, everything, for love.”
Juliana wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream at him or stab him. This was his fault, all his fault. If not for him, Serena would be back in the castle by now, or almost there. Juliana wouldn’t be alone on the frozen mountain, trying to take on the world, to fix this, knowing no prize in the end would be worth it. She’d have everything she ever thought she wanted and nothing, nothing at all.
Because of him,everythingbecause of him.
In the end, she let out a frustrated howl, and plunged her sword into the snow beside him.
The wind burned around them, snow cutting her skin like a thousand tiny daggers. She stared at her polished blade and debated thrusting it into his ribcage. It was no less than he deserved.
Maybe she’d be able to forgive him if he was dead.
“How long?” she asked him finally. “How long have you been in league with Ladrien? The whole time, or—”
“A few years,” he admitted.
“Is that why you took me to Autumn?” It was a question that had burnt against her chest for years. “The truth, this time.”
“It was why I returned,” he said. “I couldn’t do his bidding outside the court. It was where I met him. Out here… searching.”
“For a way to find Mother?”
“Something like that.”
“Then, taking me from the palace—”
“You were growing too soft there. Too complacent. I knew there was a good chance Ladrien would win even without any help. If you were to survive, I needed to teach you how to rely on no one but yourself.”
The cold around her was a poor reflection of the ice inside. Because he had done that. And for years—so, so many years—she’d been so proud of herself for being all that he’d made her. Strong, self-sufficient, independent to a fault.
She was a polished shield he’d wielded, a lump of hard, cold iron.
And for the first time, she hated him for it.
“And you?” she asked.
