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She sighs, shaking her head. "I shall not fight my daughter for the throne nor stand in her way. As is her birthright, she shall reign over the Winter Court from this moment forward. May all the power of my ancestors be stripped of me and handed to her. Long live the Queen."
The moment the last word comes out of her mouth, a frigid breeze swirls through the room before landing on me. My very pores are alive as they are infused with the power of the North.
No one moves.
Seconds tick by into minutes. My mother sits there, watching. Waiting.
Eventually, I step forward. "What is your choice?"
“I will go to sleep,” she concedes, sighing. “But not because you want me to. I’m bored. After having lived for over a millennium, things never seem to change. I thought more cruelty would solve the problem, but this new generation of soft Fae doesn’t agree.” She looks pointedly at me, sneering.
“Today,” I remind her.
She nods. “Today.”
Turning my back on my mother, I walk out of the chamber. “Don’t let her leave,” I say to the guard. He nods at me and pulls a gun from his holster. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You have no idea what’s coming to you, little one. You might find you also need more cruelty to survive,” she calls after me. I keep walking.
* * *
Your Majesty.
The guard’s words echo as I pace in the throne room. We left my parents an hour ago, seeking some peace. My footfalls echo on the ice as I walk back and forth, furling and unfurling my fists. Nathan is standing a few feet away from me, having followed me from the Southern Tower.
“He was just lying there,” I say, gesturing wildly. “I can’t... I’ve thought my father’s been dead for a hundred and thirty years. He’s been here the whole time? How could she do this to me?”
Tears prick at my eyes as I fight to keep them at bay. I rub my palms against my eyelids, pushing them away.
“Gods,” I shake my head. “Every time I think I know the depths of the depravity of my mother, she does something else that makes the last thing seem paltry in comparison. Borders locked down, public executions, media control... these are all things she did. Terrible, horrible things. But this... my father... this might really top it all."
I can feel my husband standing close to me, watching me. I shake my head. “The thing is... I’m not a good Fae, Nathan.” A tear, salty and warm, runs down my cheek. “How do I know I’m going to be any better for the Winter Court than she has been? There are so many wrongs that need to be righted. Where do I even start? How do I open borders? How do I make the people trust I won't have them killed in the streets?”
I bury my face in my hands, slumping against the ice that surrounds the dais. Tears run down my cheeks, dampening my hands, as I reveal one of my deepest fears to this male who has crossed the ocean to be with me.
The faint sound of boots approaching is the only warning I get before my hands are peeled away from my face. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Elva,” Nathan whispers while cupping my cheek with his hand. “Look at me, darling.”
I force my eyes to look at this Summer Fae kneeling in the Ice Castle. His eyes are filled with warmth and compassion as he watches me. “You are amazing,” he says. “You will be nothing like her because youcare. Elva, youlove. Don’t you think I know what it feels like to be loved by you?”
His lips tilt up as he studies me before pulling me forward and pressing his lips against mine. The kiss is raw and full of emotion, sending electricity through my body.
Nathan pulls away, wiping a tear from my cheek. “You make me feel alive, Elva. From that very first moment, you entranced me. You pulled me from a humdrum life and gave me something to fight for for the first time in over a century. Wife of mine, you are incredible. And if you love your people even a tenth as much as you love me, I know this court will flourish under your capable reign.”
I sniffle. “I hope you’re right,” I say.
He smiles. “Can I lie to you?”
I shake my head.
“Then you know I’m right.”
* * *
We are standingin a large stone crypt deep underneath the Ice Castle. I’m shivering despite my ability to endure cold as a frigid breeze runs through the chamber. My mother is standing in front of a row of caskets made of ice, her expression guarded. Most of the caskets are closed, their residents long since asleep, but one has an open lid. It’s empty. For now.
Inside is a pale blue silk pillow, a sheet covering the ice, and a blanket of the palest pink. I can’t help but shudder as I think about climbing inside it willingly. The Eternal Sleep is so far off for me that I don’t want to think about it for a second.
