Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The warmth inside the throne room shocked me. It was too much, too fast—a suffocating contrast to the biting cold outside. The scent of burning wood mingled with something else, incense maybe, cloying and thick in the air.
The hall stretched out before me, massive and intimidating, its pillars etched with runes glowing faintly in the low light. Tapestries hung on the walls, their colors muted by age, showing battles fought and won—kings crowned under stormy skies, the ever-present dragon hovering ominously. But none of that mattered. My gaze was fixed at the far end of the hall.
On him.
The King of Icespire.
I forced my legs to keep moving, each step dragging me closer to the throne where he sat. Aeliana’s father. Her hero. Her ghost.
I had heard so much about him—always spoken with love and longing, despite his silence. Every month, Aeliana had written to him. Letters filled with everything—mundane details of her life, memories of the past, love for the father who had sent her away and never written back. Not once. And now, standing here in front of him, I felt a surge of anger. How could he have ignored her like that? How could he let her wither in the crypts, without a single word?
But seeing him now… my anger tangled with something else. He wasn’t what I had expected. He wasn’t the towering, invincible figure I’d imagined. The man on the throne was heavy—leaden by years of loss. His hair, streaked silver, hung loose over his shoulders, and a thick beard framed a face worn and tired. He looked older than he should, more broken than I could have imagined.
His eyes were blue, like Aeliana’s, but beneath the calculation, there was something… hollow. A sadness. I hesitated, my steps faltering as I drew closer. What had happened to him?
He hadn’t answered her letters, hadn’t given her anything back, but maybe he hadn’t let go of her either.
Too late for that now.
Too late for her to know.
I opened my mouth to speak—to say something, anything —but the words turned to ash on my tongue. My grief was too vast, too raw, to be contained by language, and so I stood there, silent, breaking apart in a moment that felt too big to hold.
The king stared at me, and for a moment, the silence stretched impossibly thin. Then, he spoke, his voice low, like the crack of ice beneath your feet.
“My daughter.” His words were rough, laden with regret, or maybe sorrow. “What has happened to you?”
The sound of it— my daughter —stirred something deep inside me, something I wasn’t ready to feel.
My breath caught. “Your daughter?” I whispered, disbelief laced with bitterness. Did he not remember what Aeliana looked like? How her shoulders were always rolled back, how her blonde hair never strayed from the tight braid she put it in.
Your daughter is dead.
The king’s gaze pierced through me, as if he were searching for something—some part of his daughter in the stranger standing before him. But I wasn’t Aeliana. I was just a girl pretending to be her, a girl trapped in her place, her pain, and now, her world. And as he looked at me like that, like I was a puzzle he needed to solve, the anger I’d tried to suppress boiled up again. Not just for what he’d done to her, but for what he was doing to me.
He rose slowly from the throne, his movements heavy with the weight of years—years he hadn’t spent with her. He was taller than I’d realized, looming over me now, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. His presence was overwhelming, like the air was heavier around him. The raw power clung to him, even if it was broken, like something lost its edge.
My mouth went dry. I had to tell him.
Aeliana was gone.
The words sat on the tip of my tongue, bitter and painful. A part of me wanted him to break, to grieve, to fall apart the way I had. He should cry for her. She deserved it. But more than anything, I needed to know that she had mattered—that her love hadn’t been wasted on a man who had forgotten her.
But before I could speak, he reached out.
His hand caught a strand of my hair, gently lifting it as though studying it might answer his questions. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought. Aeliana’s hair had been white, soft and bright, full of life. Mine was tangled soot, a far cry from the daughter he had lost.
“What happened to you?” he asked, almost to himself. His thumb brushed the strand before letting it fall. He looked closer, narrowing his eyes.
I froze as his hand drifted to my forehead, the touch so gentle it was almost fatherly. It sent an icy shiver through me, a sick twist of discomfort. “I can feel your magic,” he whispered, as if in disbelief. “My magic.” Something like sadness flickered in his eyes. “Your eyes… they’re colder.”
His large hands moved down to take mine, his fingers brushing over my calloused skin, the rough patches left from years of hard work in the crypts. He turned them over, tracing the lines like he was reading a map of pain and struggle. “Thirteen years have hardened you, my child. But the magic… it’s still there.”
How was the magic there? I wasn’t Aeliana. I wasn’t his blood . Whatever he was sensing within me, wasn’t mine.
Anger burned through me, sharper than before. “Your Majesty, there’s been a mistake.”
He stiffened. His expression faltered, his eyes darkening with doubt. For the first time, I saw something like fear in his gaze—a realization creeping in that something was wrong. His fingers tightened slightly around mine as if he could hold on to whatever illusion he had left.
“Aeliana…” I started, the words thick in my throat. “She’s?—”
Before I could finish, the door to the throne room slammed open with a loud crash, and a proclamation cut through the air, sharp and commanding.
“The queen is here.”
The words sliced through the fragile moment, and I felt the connection between us snap. I turned to see her—Queen Marisella—gliding into the hall. She wore a red gown that flowed behind her, and black hair was twisted in a tight updo. She looked younger than I imagined, but the firm set of her mouth was cruel as night. The anger I had felt toward the king was nothing compared to the hatred that surged at the sight of her. Aeliana’s exile, her death—all of it traced back to this woman. And now she stood here, her face twisted into a mask of false concern, her eyes calculating.
The queen moved toward me, her every step deliberate, a forced smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, sweet girl,” she cooed. “You’ve been through so much.”
I wanted to speak, to tell her the truth, but my voice wouldn’t come. My throat was tight, my thoughts tangled. Her presence was like a smothering force, and as she approached, it only grew worse.
The queen wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into an embrace that was anything but warm. Her hands rested on my shoulders, holding me in place as she leaned in, her lips barely brushing my ear as she whispered, “You will say nothing. Do you understand?”
The threat was barely concealed, her nails digging into my skin just enough to make her point clear. My body went rigid, and I swallowed the words I wanted to say, my heart hammering in my chest.
She pulled back, flashing a sweet smile at the king, who had risen to his feet. “Your Majesty,” the queen said smoothly, “she’s been through an ordeal. Let me take her to her room. She needs to rest.”
The king hesitated, his eyes flicking between us. He looked tired—more tired than I had ever imagined him being. “She has been through much,” he said quietly. “She defended the Crypt of Silence… but she needs care now.”
The queen’s grip on me tightened as she spoke again. “Come, darling. I’ll see to it that you’re well taken care of.”
I wanted to scream, to push her away, to tell the king everything, but I was frozen, trapped by her presence, her power. The king glanced at me one last time, and for a moment, I saw something there—some glimmer of uncertainty, of doubt. But then he nodded, resigned.
The queen’s smile widened as she guided me toward the door. “Let’s go,” she whispered, the threat clear beneath her words.
And just like that, whatever chance I had to tell the truth slipped away, swallowed by the shadow of the queen’s control.
The doors closed behind us with a thud, sealing me in the queen’s grasp as she led me down a long corridor. The words I had wanted to say, the truth I had wanted to tell, were locked inside me, silenced by the queen’s frigid demeanor and the fear that gripped my heart.
Queen Marisella led me through the twisting corridors of the castle, her hand gripping my arm with a force that belied the sweetness in her voice. The grandeur of the palace—its high, arched ceilings, its walls lined with tapestries depicting the ancient history of Icespire—seemed to close in around me, the opulence suffocating rather than awe-inspiring. The warmth from the roaring fireplaces did little to ease the fear settling in my bones as I realized how alone I truly was.
Finally, we arrived at a set of ornate double doors. The queen paused, nodding to the maids who had been trailing behind us. “Shut the door,” she commanded. “And see that no one disturbs us.”
The maids curtsied and quickly did as they were told, pulling the heavy doors closed with a resounding thud. The sound echoed in the chamber, final and foreboding, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as the queen turned to face me, her expression shifting from the benevolent mask she had worn before the king to something far darker.
“Elara, is it?” the queen purred, her voice laced with malice as she used my real name, the one I hadn’t spoken since I arrived. My heart lurched, dread creeping up my spine.
“You’ve had quite the journey, haven’t you? Such a… confusing time. Rhydian sent word about the entire ordeal.”
My throat tightened, panic rising. I forced myself to speak. “What do you want from me?”
Her smile sharpened, and she stepped closer, her eyes glittering with vulturous intent. “You will bow when speaking to your queen,” she snapped, the warmth draining from her voice.
Before I could react, she flicked her wrist, and a crackling, invisible force seized me. My bones screamed in protest as an excruciating pressure twisted my limbs, driving me to my knees. Pain flared, and I gasped as my knees hit the stone, the bones bending unnaturally. She was manipulating my skeleton, forcing my body to submit.
“That’s better,” she said, circling me slowly like a predator. “You seem confused, handmaiden, but let me clarify.” Her voice turned soft, dripping with condescension. “You’re nothing more than a servant, yet here you are, wielding powers that belong to the royal bloodline.”
Her fingers twitched, and a sharp pain shot through my leg, the bones in my calf snapping with a sickening crunch. I cried out, biting back a scream as my vision blurred with tears. The queen’s osteocrafting —her power over bones—was relentless. She could break me apart and mend me in an instant, and she was proving it.
“And somehow,” she continued, “you survived the destruction of the crypt. What makes you special, Elara?”
Her power withdrew for a moment, the pain lessening as she stood over me. But I knew it was only temporary. “I’ve been briefed, but I want to know more. Tell me what happened when you wielded magic,” she demanded.
I gasped for air, my body trembling as the memory of the frostwolves and the icy surge returned. “I… I don’t know,” I stammered, shaking with fear. “The wolves attacked. I was scared, and then… ice. It came from me, but I didn’t mean for it to happen. I don’t know how it happened!”
The queen’s eyes gleamed, her lips twisting into a sneer. “You expect me to believe that a common girl, with no noble blood, just… wielded royal magic?”
She flicked her hand again, and the bones in my fingers cracked. The pain was sudden, violent, and I screamed, collapsing to the floor as she walked around me, her footsteps deliberate, echoing in the vast hall.
“Your lies bore me, Elara,” she hissed. “You think you can hide the truth from me? From osteocrafting, the very magic that shapes the bones of this kingdom?”
“I’m telling the truth,” I gasped, my body shuddering in pain. “I swear, I don’t know!”
Queen Marisella’s lips curled into a twisted smile as she crouched before me, her icy eyes locking onto mine. “How… inconvenient,” she murmured. “Aeliana dies, just when I’d found a use for her. But here you are, somehow wielding her power.” She paused, her gaze studying me with brutal calculation, as though I were nothing more than a puzzle she intended to solve—piece by piece.
Aeliana’s death wasn’t just a loss—it had interfered with something bigger. The queen had plans, and somehow, I had been thrust into the middle of them.
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Tell me, are you a Riftshaper ? Can you manage illusions? Though the power flowing through you feels very real.”
“No!” I stammered, shaking my head frantically. “Of course not! I’m just an orphan—I don’t have noble blood. I—I’m nothing! You can check my register.”
“I’ve already checked it. You had no magic at your calling when you turned five. No noble parents that claimed you. But I have a handful of soldiers kneeling before you and claiming you defended them against frostwolves.”
She sighed. “There are no categories of nobles that can steal powers, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. My scholars have informed me that you could be the first of your kind.”
“I–I didn’t steal.”
The queen’s smile widened, but it held no warmth—only heartlessness. “I’ll find out eventually, Elara. But we have more pressing matters at hand. Lucky for you,” she said, “I need Aeliana alive. Not just to keep the king from losing the last of his fragile sanity, but for reasons that stretch far beyond your understanding.” She stood slowly, her presence towering over me like a storm cloud ready to burst.
“The king’s mind is fragile, yes, but his power is still dangerous—uncontrolled grief would turn him into a walking weapon. And I need him in check, for now.”
Her gaze darkened, and I could feel the temperature drop as her presence seemed to grow even more menacing. “But don’t flatter yourself, thinking this is only about keeping the king calm. Aeliana had a role to play, and now you will fill it. I have plans for this kingdom—plans that cannot be derailed by her death. The people need stability. They need a princess, especially now, with the crypt gone and the kingdom more vulnerable than ever.”
Her voice dropped to a near whisper, but it was laced with steel. “You will not just pretend to be Aeliana for the king’s sake. You will pretend to be her for the sake of the entire kingdom. The people need to believe that she still lives, that the bloodline of Icespire remains unbroken, that the magic protecting our realm is still intact. If they suspect even for a moment that the royal line has been compromised, everything we’ve built will crumble into chaos.”
I swallowed hard, dread pooling in my stomach. This was bigger than I had imagined—much bigger.
“And don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten why you are here,” she added. “Aeliana had a purpose, a future. One that I had carefully orchestrated—one that I will not allow to be disrupted by something as trivial as death.” Her eyes gleamed with an eerie satisfaction. “Since you somehow managed to steal her magic, you will fulfill her role. You will serve as a princess of Icespire, and you will see to it that my plans are carried out.”
The stakes had been raised, but I still didn’t understand the full extent of her intentions. “What plans?” I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound calm.
The queen’s smile sharpened, a cruel, polished thing that glittered like frost under a pale sun, but her eyes— ancestors , her eyes—were hard as ice, unyielding and frigid. “You’ll find out soon enough,” she said. “But listen carefully, because I will not repeat myself.”
She took a step closer, her presence filling the space like a winter storm, cold and suffocating. “From this moment on, you are Aeliana. You will wear her face and claim her name. You will carry her magic as though it were your own, and you will walk in the path I lay before you without question, without hesitation, and without failure.”
Her smile faded, and her voice dropped to a whisper, soft as snow but sharp as shattered glass. “You will learn to speak like her, to move like her, to breathe as if you were born to this role, and if you falter—if you so much as stumble—I will know.”
Her gaze burned into mine, freezing me where I stood, her tone darkening to something low and guttural, a sound that sent ice prickling down my spine. “And should you ever think to defy me—if you let one flicker of rebellion show in those deceitful eyes—I will break you. Not quickly. Not mercifully. No, I will strip you down, piece by piece, until there is nothing left of you but shards, and you will beg me to finish what I started. You will pray for death, and even then, I will make you wait.”
She straightened, smoothing her gown as if her words had left no mark at all, though I could still feel them, heavy and cold, like chains wrapping around my ribs. “So remember, little imposter—this life is not yours. It never will be. You are a shadow cast in her name, and you will do exactly as I command. Or you will suffer in ways you cannot yet imagine.”
The silence that followed was unbearable, pressing against me as I struggled to breathe, her words carving themselves into the marrow of my bones. The queen’s smile returned, sharper than before, as though she relished the terror she’d wrought. “Now,” she said softly, “do we have an understanding?”
The word scraped from my throat, small and broken. “Yes.”
The queen’s smile sharpened, victory gleaming in her icy gaze. “Good.”
She turned away, dismissing me with nothing more than the flick of her fingers, as though my very existence had already been reduced to a formality. The silence that followed was crushing, pressing in on me like a weight I couldn’t escape, suffocating and final.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I stood there, her words still ringing in my ears— you are Aeliana —each syllable a knife carving away what little of me remained.
Pretend to be her. My best friend. My sister in everything but blood. Wear her face. Steal her life. Carry her magic.
I swallowed hard, my lungs aching as I forced in a breath that didn’t feel like mine. Somewhere deep inside me, something cracked, the sound silent but deafening as it echoed through every part of me that still belonged to Elara.
The queen’s voice, soft and cruel, lingered in the air, her command sealing itself to my skin like frostbite.
I was Aeliana now.
And ancestors help me, I wasn’t sure who that left me to be.