Page 22

Everly

D raven was quick to capitalize on my distraction, slipping my hand around his arm and holding it in place with his vise-like grip as if we were just a normal couple who had happily strode here together. Of their own free-will. Both of them.

I dragged my gaze up to his frost-hardened features, then past him to the sea of expectant faces staring at us like we were their last hope.

The towering ceiling was made entirely of glass, probably to give a view of the stars the hall was named for.

And the room was too large for the scant number of courtiers.

So the king hadn’t just failed to give me notice.

He had moved up this ceremony abruptly and chosen to have it with far fewer witnesses.

Shards.

The door slammed shut behind us.

Nevara stood at the far end of the chamber, cloaked in shimmering robes, her face painted in intricate designs. Silver starbursts bloomed around her eyes, streaking down her cheeks like stylized tears. She lifted her hands with quiet reverence.

“Come forward, My Queen,” she said, her voice smooth and otherworldly.

She didn’t quite look at me. Wouldn’t.

Panic slithered up my spine, cold and sharp, coiling around my lungs. I stared at the faces of the court, and notably, Soren, for all the king claimed not to trust him. It did nothing for my nerves.

My legs turned to iron. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, loud enough I was sure the court could hear it, and for one surreal second, I was convinced I might faint. Or vomit. Probably both.

Which was not the worst idea anyone had ever had.

My lips parted before I could stop them.

“Would that I could, Visionary,” I said, forcing a regal tone that cracked at the edges. “But I’m afraid I’ve been stricken with–”

I couldn’t very well say that I was going to faint without following up. Vomit, too, could be chanced. But even Draven wouldn’t risk the queen soiling her dress in the most undignified way imaginable during the kingdom’s most important ceremony.

I searched for a delicate way to phrase it. “--Ceremonial indigestion.”

The silence that followed was… profound.

Several members of the court, a small contingent of guards, and even Soren, all frozen in a single blink. Nevara’s lips wordlessly parted with something like horror or amusement before she regained her usual calm.

But the most notable hush was from Draven.

He didn’t move beside me. Didn’t breathe. He went so still, I could practically feel the murder brewing under his skin, could literally feel it cracking through his mana.

Perhaps I should have gone with something more innocuous. A twisted ankle? Mana whiplash? Chronic ceremonial anxiety? Too late for that now.

After an eternity, a flicker of a snort came from somewhere near the back that sounded distinctly like Soren.

My cheeks went hot. The king turned his head very slowly in my direction.

“And is that… a formal diagnosis?” he asked, his voice low enough to freeze air.

I cleared my throat. “It’s more of an instinctual knowing.”

He stared.

I stared.

The entire room stared.

I was going to die here. Not from exposure as a Hollow or a traitor. Just pure, undiluted shame.

I regretted everything. Every life choice, every step that had led me to this exact, mortifying moment, but it would be worth it if it actually got me out of this ceremony.

It didn’t, of course.

Draven’s expression didn’t so much as twitch. He carved his face into a mask of regal neutrality. “Worry not, My Queen. I’m happy to whisk you away should the need arise. But I’m sure you’ll prevail for the sake of our people. Perhaps it would help if I carried you?”

His gaze bored into mine, intent pulsating from his power and his aurora eyes.

You will walk to the stone or I will drag you there.

I didn’t respond, and he very nearly did just that, the iron grip of his hand propelling me down the aisle in small, reluctant steps. Somehow, he still managed to make it look intimate, even after I had publicly declared I was suffering from Heartstone Ceremony induced bubble-guts.

I cast about for another excuse, anything. My breaths were coming in ragged pants now, my stomach churning in truth.

Maybe I could actually faint?

No, he would probably just douse me with ice-water and insist on going through with the ceremony.

I was damned if I did. And damned if I didn’t…

Resignation settled in my bones. I tried to offer myself what comfort I could.

Wynnie wasn’t here, at least. Not to see me humiliate myself so publicly, nor to be a target for the king’s anger. I would tell him that she never knew the truth. I’d deceived him for this long, and he was the King of Winter. Surely he would understand how I tricked another backwater noble…

It would work. It had to.

We stopped just short of the stone—a word that seemed far too small for such a huge crystal. Pale, gleaming light refracted from the inside, bouncing off each facet, each perfect imperfection, to look like a sea of stars.

And something inside of it, in the center where ancient mana swirled and pulsed like galaxies, called to me. Begged me to look closer. Begged me to jump into its depths headfirst and lose myself to the raw power that lived there.

I shivered and took a step back, my better senses taking hold of me once again. I glanced up at Nevara, knowing she couldn’t see my eyes, but hoping she could sense the desperation inside of me.

Would she hate me when she learned what I was? Would I lose the only almost-friend I’d ever had? Or did she already know?

Her expression stayed fixed ahead, but the corner of her lips twitched downward.

“Really,” I tried one final time, looking between her and the king.

“I wouldn’t want to insult the Shard Mother by being too hast—” I didn’t get to finish before Draven’s hands came around mine, one massive arm on either side of my narrow frame.

Heat enveloped me, crackling in its intensity to the point of pain.

At least I would be warm when death came for me.

That was the last conscious thought I had before the king’s hands pressed mine into the waiting stone.

The surface flared to life with a crack of thunder, frost erupting in a burst of light and power. Webs of shimmering ice carved themselves into the altar, spidering outward in intricate sigils that pulsed like veins of ancient ice, alive and ancient and watching.

A shockwave of cold rolled through the chamber, rattling the stained glass and sweeping through the crowd like a warning. Gasps echoed as the sigils deepened, glowing brighter with every heartbeat.

Shards of crystalline mana burst into the air above the altar, suspended by unseen threads of power. They spun and danced in an impossible current, refracting an iridescent sheen that shimmered in shades of pale blue and lavender.

Snow fell upward in defiance of gravity, pulled into the display, each flake catching the spectral light until it looked as though a galaxy had unfurled within the hall itself.

Gasps rippled through the chamber as the frost surged higher, blooming like a frozen flower, each petal etched with glowing runes.

For a single, breathless moment, I almost believed it had been my mana. That the Shard Mother had finally blessed me after all this time.

I didn’t even know if that was possible. Hollows rarely survived long enough to find out.

But it didn’t matter because I recognized that mana. I’d felt its weight crush against my skin, had been capsized by the fury that fueled it.

It belonged to the king. Obviously.

Had he known mine wouldn’t work? Had he planned for the Heartstone to tear more power from his soul when mine failed to appear?

Or was it all just a display, something to salvage the spectacle before I embarrassed him further? Worse than my questions were the courtiers’ narrowed eyes. The ones seated closest to the dais weren’t watching the Heartstone.

They were watching our hands, the way that his still covered mine.

He must have realized that at the same time I did, because his warmth abruptly disappeared.

Nevara tilted her head toward the crowd, her spine going rigid. Then she gave a serene smile, all outward beneficence.

“The Heartstone has taken its claim. The Bride of Winter is sealed to both crown and court. Let no one question the Shard Mother’s will.”

Polite applause rippled through the hall, a restrained murmur that barely touched the domed ceiling. I didn’t hear it. Not really. Not over the deafening thunder of my own heartbeat.

My hands slipped away from the Heartstone, trembling in a way I hoped no one could see beneath my trailing sleeves. The applause eventually came to an end, and the courtiers filed from the room, followed by a very reluctant Nevara.

She stared in my direction through clouded eyes, her lips pursing. Her shoulders rose as she took in a breath, like she was preparing to say something, but the king didn’t give her the chance.

“We will speak later, Visionary,” his voice was a low, commanding growl.

Her gaze went distant, pale eyes shimmering.

“That we will. Until then.” She gave him a nod that was just this side of mocking, while offering me a look that might have been pity.

The crystal in her staff pulsed once before she used it to guide herself away, the echo of its tapping fading down the corridor like the final beat of a war drum.

Lumen and the other wolves watched from the shadows of the hallway, tense and alert, but he shut the doors before they could cross the threshold.

Only then did he seal them shut with a wave of his hand.

Ice veined across the frame, crawling inward like it was desperate to lock the truth inside. The king once again had me in his iron grasp, his expression carved from glacier stone as he led me out through a narrow back corridor.

He pulled me along without a word, the weight of his silence pressing down like a boot to my spine. I could feel the rage in the grip that was so carefully controlled.