Chapter 2 #2
I kept my expression neutral, attempting to tap into the inherited coolness that rode in my veins, but anxiety twisted my stomach into a knot, rivers of panic roiling beneath my skin like raging lava under a mountain.
I couldn’t keep my fingers from raking through my hair, and strands of silver fell over my brow, slightly obscuring my eyes.
Bless the burning stars for my unruly hair, for I wasn’t certain I could keep my eyes from divulging the truth hidden in their depths much longer.
Sitting up straighter, I nonchalantly tried to wiggle off the tension wrapping around my shoulders, but the severity of what I’d done—of the political treachery I’d committed against the crown—sat like boulders on my back.
The repercussions of my actions could not only land me in the dungeons, but I’d likely end up with a noose tied around my neck for treason, not only against our realm but against my mother.
Gods, if she knew what I’d done…
Not even the fact that I was her only child could save me from the punishment she’d dole out.
Still, I didn’t regret my actions, but that didn’t mean I didn’t fear what she would do if she found out, even if what I’d done hadn’t been from a desire to betray my kingdom, but from a need to do what was right.
Christmas had overshadowed the Solstice, but the people of Yulreth didn’t deserve the war she’d planned to unleash on them.
What was more, she not only dreamed of defeating Saint Nicholas and reclaiming the full power of the Solstice, but she wanted to establish Skadgard as the most powerful kingdom in all seven realms.
Despite being the Frost Queen’s son, my heart wasn’t made of frozen rock. I may have inherited her ice magic, but I didn’t share her cruel ambitions. I didn’t wish to see all the realms bow at our feet, willfully or not.
In truth, I was most like my father in all other aspects, and it was moments like these that dredged up all the resentment fermenting in my gut.
I sighed, trying to ease the discomfort his passing still caused me.
His death wasn’t fresh, but the wounds of his absence would always feel like he’d died yesterday.
Especially when I sat there, unable to speak the truth, unable to stand up for what I believed in, for what my father had believed in, because he would’ve never let my mother’s depravity take hold of the kingdom like this.
Instead, I’d made sure to cover my tracks and leave no evidence of my treason. Perhaps it was cowardly, but if I wanted a chance of correcting the wrongs of my mother, of one day being a kinder and just leader, I needed to master the art of self-preservation.
But the way Kaelven’s sharp eyes scanned the room, his gaze lingering on me for a moment too long, made my chest tighten. Perhaps I hadn’t been as careful as I’d thought?
“Find the mole,” my mother finally said, her voice cutting through the tension like a whip as she fixed her gaze on Sylvi. “Tighten security, Captain. I will not have my realm undone by treachery.”
Fuck. I swallowed deeply, but my mouth was so dry, my saliva tasted like sand. From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Sylvi slowly pivoting her head toward me. Her gaze hid nothing. You know something you’re not saying, Your Highness…
I blinked slowly. Later.
Her brows pinched, annoyance crinkling at the corners of her eyes. She nibbled on her lower lip, and I could already see the gears in her brain turning.
Despite my best efforts to not notice how perfectly plump her lips were, I couldn’t help the flame that sparked to life inside my core when her teeth pressed down on the corners of her supple mouth.
Anytime her brain churned with a puzzle, she’d nibble on that lip.
I doubted she even knew she had the quirk, but I’d been quite aware of it for some time.
I took in a long, cooling breath, preparing myself for the inquisition that would follow once we left this meeting—if I managed to get out of it unscathed.
Sylvi would interrogate the Hel out of me until I either squealed or bled from my eyes.
Problem was, I didn’t know if I could confide in her.
Not because I couldn’t trust her, but because I didn’t want to drag her into my mess.
She was sworn to protect our kingdom.
But she was also sworn to protect me. And now she’d been tasked with finding the mole.
Knowing the truth of what I’d done would not only crush her, but it would put her in a compromising position. She could lose her post, be prosecuted and thrown into a cell. The implications of what my actions could do to her, possibly to her family… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
Worst of all, if I told her the truth, it could sour our friendship. She would be forced to choose between serving the kingdom or staying loyal to me.
As the daughter of a former captain of the guard, Sylvi had grown up in the palace. She’d been raised to value honor above all. Her devotion to serving the realm lived in her veins. If faced with the decision to uphold her sacred oath or keep my secrets…
I wasn’t ready to learn which one she’d choose.
Not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to myself, or us for that matter, I quickly shifted my gaze back to the rest of the group, hoping all Lord Kaelven had acquired were mere speculations.
“It’s not just the southern approach,” Kaelven pressed. “Someone must have aided Prince Nicholas in locating the Heart of Yule. It’s the only way they were able to erect the shields and heal themselves from the damage caused by the poisoned Winterbloom Woods.”
My mother’s lips slimmed, her expression sharpening into something feline and predatory.
“The Heart of Yule…Odin’s gift to the people of Yulreth,” she murmured with disdain, as if the words tasted like sour grapes in her mouth.
Her fingers slowly drummed against the table’s edge once again.
“That artifact had been lost for centuries. The terrain to Isfjall Summit is treacherous; for centuries, no one’s been able to climb that mountain and survive.
Even Odin’s grace couldn’t have spared him in that storm.
That insufferable prince must’ve had extraordinary aid to have survived not only my blizzard, but to have reached the summit by dawn.
If Saint Nicholas has someone in my court, they must be rooted out. ”
Sylvi’s eyes flicked toward me again. She didn’t know the truth, couldn’t know…
“Your Magesty, if I may…” said Lord Asmund, another of my mother’s advisors, combing his long, gray beard while he tried to mask the condescending tone of his voice.
He’d been a loyal servant of the Crown for years, but unlike the rest of the council members, he still struggled with his resentment toward my mother, particularly because he had not agreed with how my mother had gone from Queen Regent to Queen Regnant, despite having a son who was a direct heir to the dead king—my father.
Not that I was desperate to sit on the throne, but my mother’s abuse of power and disregard of the time-honored traditions of our people hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Royal fae could live for extensive lifespans, but when my mother married into the Frostbound Court centuries ago, she never expected to still not have an heir after decades and decades of failed births.
Desperate for a son, the then Frost King, King Hayden Drakmyr II, began his secret search for a potential new queen when he fell ill to a mysterious illness that took his life.
My mother should have become Queen Dowager.
However, when an unexpected eligible male kin surfaced—Lord Keenan Drakmyr, a very distant cousin of King Hayden, he surprised everyone by proclaiming his love for my mother and making her his queen instead of seeking his own bride.
Shortly after, I was born.
According to long buried texts I once found in the archives, my father’s legitimacy as next in line was questioned for some time, and thus my own legitimacy as heir. However, it was noted that anyone caught entertaining those rumors swiftly disappeared, as did the alleged false claims.
My father died when I was still a child, and as such, my mother became Queen Regent, authorized to rule until I became of ruling age, which occurred when I turned seventeen.
That was four years ago.
But when your queen is a powerful royal unseelie fae with dangerous magic, challenging that power could prove problematic.
“We will secure the realm, have no doubts,” Lord Asmund went on.
“We will assist the captain in any way we can to track down this traitor, and we will make sure they are met with the harshest of punishments.
However, the fact remains: though Yulreth was able to heal the damage to their land and re-erect their shields with the artifact, our kingdom is still suffering the effects of the sickness.
“I understand that your decision to poison the Winterbloom Woods with your unseelie magic was a sacrifice we had to make. We needed to weaken the magic that protects the borders of all the northern kingdoms to sabotage the Christmas holiday, but healing that forest will take years, and I am afraid we simply don’t have that kind of time. ”
“Lord Asmund, are you saying you doubt my ability to protect our realm?” Mother’s hand flicked, and an icy orb appeared above her palm, floating in place. “Do you believe my magic too weak to be feared?” she asked, her burgundy-stained lips curling to one side in a slow snarl.
The lord swallowed an audible gulp. “N-never, Your Majesty,” he stammered.
“I don’t doubt your abilities. In fact, I find your magic impressive, given how much poisoning the trees took from you.
But as you know, unlike royal fae such as yourself, our common folk are not gifted with magical powers.
With the shields compromised, our people feel threatened.
Not to mention that some shields have already cracked or completely fallen on the outskirts, weakening the borders.
Worse yet, we’ve not seen the hrímdreki in days—”