Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Kaelith
The corridor to the throne hall stretched longer than it should have, each step weighted.Mirrors lined the walls, their surfaces veined with frostlight.
My reflection followed at half a heartbeat’s delay, flickering at the edges as though it, too, struggled to stay solid.
Each step I took echoed twice—one sound real, the other distant and fractured.
A trick of the frost, I told myself. Or the Veil again.
By the time the hall doors loomed, two guards stood waiting in polished armor that caught the torchlight and split it into shards. They bowed as I passed, but neither met my eyes. Rumor traveled faster than command; they’d heard what happened. They all had.
The doors opened with a sound like the world cracking.
Cold poured out, sharp and merciless. The throne hall glittered, a cathedral of ice and silence.
Frostlight rippled across the floor, pulsing faintly from the veins of magic that fed the Winter Palace.
Rows of courtiers flanked the main aisle, their faces pale and watchful.
At the far end sat the Frostfather, motionless, his crown a web of frozen veins glowing faintly with inner light.
But he wasn’t alone.
Kael stood beside the dais, half bathed in the faint gold of imported Summersteel. He looked painfully out of place—sun-warmed skin, the faintest curl of a smile, and a presence that made the cold hesitate before touching him. The sight of him hit like an unexpected gust of heat.
I hadn’t known he was coming. That wasn’t coincidence. Father meant for this.
“You let the frost burn,” the Frostfather said, voice soft and cold enough to cut.
I dropped to one knee, head bowed. “The trial was unstable. The runes failed to bind the circle when the Veil tremor hit.”
“The Veil tremor hit,” he echoed slowly, tasting the excuse. “So you say.”
“It’s what the readings showed. The mortal’s presence was coincidence, not cause.”
Kael’s laugh broke the stillness. Warm, melodic, infuriating.
“Coincidence. That’s generous of you, Brother.”
My jaw locked. “You have information to offer, or are you simply observing?”
He stepped forward, easy grace in every movement.
“A bit of both.” His tone held amusement, but his gaze studied me like I was another line in a report.
“I’ve just come from Summer to investigate the disturbances along the Veil.
The mortal appeared around the time they worsened.
Surely, it’s worth testing whether she knows more than she admits. ”
The Frostfather’s attention sharpened. The light in his eyes brightened dangerously. “You see, Kaelith? Even the Summer Court sends help while you lose control of your own frost.”
Kael smiled at that, the perfect blend of charm and provocation. “If it helps, I’m willing to assist. You catch more flies with honey, and you, Brother, are a cold brute.”
Laughter rippled through the courtiers—thin, brittle things pretending they weren’t afraid of the sound.
I didn’t look at Kael. I looked at my father. “The mortal remains under my observation for further study.”
The room went still. The frostlight dimmed then flared, uncertain which command to obey.
“Observation,” the Frostfather repeated slowly. “You would keep her close after what she’s done?”
“She survived what should have killed her,” I said evenly. “That makes her worth understanding.”
Kael’s smile widened, but there was no malice in it, only something that could too easily become curiosity. “I can think of easier ways to learn her secrets.”
“None of them would survive your company long enough to answer,” I said.
That drew a few suppressed gasps, and Kael chuckled under his breath, unbothered.
The Frostfather rose then, and the sound of ice shifting filled the chamber. The veins of frostlight along the floor brightened in rhythm with his pulse.
“Enough,” he said, and the word froze the air itself. “Kaelith, you will not defy my command again.”
I bowed my head, hiding the flicker of gold that sparked beneath my glove. “Of course not.”
“Your judgment falters,” he went on. “Your frost bends. See that it doesn’t break.”
Kael turned slightly, voice light and taunting. “Careful, Brother. You’re starting to sound almost … warm.”
The courtiers laughed again, but the sound faltered when I raised my head.
For a heartbeat, no one breathed. The air shimmered faintly with heat before collapsing back into cold.
I forced my tone to neutral. “Permission to withdraw?”
The Frostfather’s eyes glowed faint silver, threads of madness webbing through the light. “Granted. You will return when I call. Do not make me call twice.”
I bowed once more and turned away, the weight of Kael’s smirk pressing between my shoulder blades. The frost cracked under my boots as I crossed the hall. Behind me, laughter resumed—soft, nervous, like the sound of breaking glass.
The hall doors sealed behind me with a hiss of freezing air. The sound should have been comforting—the world returning to order—but it wasn’t. The frost along the corridor walls wept in thin lines, refreezing a heartbeat later. Even the palace didn’t know whether to hold or melt.
I had almost reached the end of the passage when footsteps echoed behind me, too light to be a guard’s. I didn’t turn.
“You always leave before the applause,” Kael said.
His voice carried that same warm amusement that made courtiers lean closer and enemies grind their teeth. I kept walking. “Applause is for performance.”
“And that wasn’t one?” He caught up easily, his stride unhurried and his armor glinting faintly gold in the dim frostlight. “You have to admit, it was dramatic. All that tension. The Frostfather’s favorite son locking horns with his forgotten one. The Court will be whispering for days.”
“I don’t care what they whisper.”
“You always say that,” he said lightly. “And it’s always untrue.”
I stopped. He nearly walked into me. The frost at my feet cracked in a neat circle.
“I didn’t know you were in Winter,” I said.
Kael smiled, all easy charm. “That was the idea.”
“Why?”
“Because Father asked me to investigate the disturbances along the Veil.” He tilted his head, feigning thought. “And because I was curious. Word travels fast, even in Summer. A mortal survives Winter’s trial? The frost burns? You have to admit, it’s an irresistible story.”
“She’s not a story.” I wondered who had spread the news so quickly for my brother to magic his way here.
“No, she’s a question.” He stepped closer. “And I like questions.”
The temperature dropped with my patience. Frost spread from my boots, but Kael didn’t seem to notice. His warmth pushed back against it, gold meeting blue, the air shimmering faintly where our magic collided.
He smiled again, softer now. “I meant what I said in there. Let me speak with her. You catch more truth with kindness than with a blade.”
“You mean you’d rather charm her than interrogate her.” A muscle in my jaw ticked.
“Same result, better company.”
“Denied.”
“You’re protective already.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes studied me too closely.
“I’m cautious,” I said. “There’s a difference.”
Kael laughed, the sound rolling through the cold like sunlight off ice. “You always were bad at lying to yourself.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re not like him,” he interrupted quietly. The words landed harder than his laughter ever could. “But you should know—the more you deny warmth, the faster it finds you.”
That silenced us both. Somewhere deep in the palace, ice cracked, a long, hollow sound like a glacier splitting in two. The frostlight along the walls pulsed once, gold threaded through blue before vanishing.
Kael exhaled, fogging the air. “You should sleep, Brother. You look haunted.”
“I am,” I said before I could stop the truth from slipping out.
He regarded me for a long moment, no mockery now, just something unreadable. Then he nodded, half-smiling again. “Then I’ll leave you to your ghosts.”
He turned down a side passage, his armor catching what little warmth the palace had left. I watched until the sound of his steps faded.
The silence that followed wasn’t peace. It was pressure, the kind that builds before something gives way.
The frostlight on my glove flickered again, uneven, and the Dreamkeeper’s voice whispered from memory: Every storm needs warmth to end it.
I looked at my hand, at the faint gold bleeding through the seams, and wondered if the storm had already begun.
The corridors emptied as I walked, my breath the only sound left to measure distance.Each step struck a different note—ice, water, ice again—as if the palace itself couldn’t decide what it was anymore. The frostlight along the arches flickered, pulse for pulse with my own.
I’d learned to live inside silence long ago, but tonight it pressed closer, shaped by too many thoughts I refused to finish. Every word my father had thrown at me still echoed: infection, fracture, seal her. The worst part was how much of it I’d almost believed.
A thin crack followed me down the wall, fresh, bright, and still whispering heat. The magic that should have stayed dormant in the stone now bled like veins of gold through glass. My doing. My failure. Both.
I reached my wing of the palace and paused outside the doors. The guards straightened, but I waved them off. They didn’t need to hear the way the frost hissed when I exhaled.
Inside, the air was warmer than it should have been. I stripped off my gloves and watched light spill across my palms—blue laced with gold, steady now, no longer pretending to hide. Her touch had left that stain. The Dreamkeeper’s words circled again, relentless: Every storm needs warmth to end it.
I wanted to argue, to call it manipulation or prophecy, but the frost on my sleeves had already begun to melt.
I sat, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. The desk beside me still held the reports I’d meant to write, ink frozen solid in its well. The nib of the quill was trapped in a thin sheet of ice, the words refusing to take shape. Maybe that was mercy.
The door hinges creaked. A page hovered there—young, nervous, eyes wide with the kind of fear that didn’t belong to him alone.
“Your Highness,” he said softly. “The mortal is awake.”
The air thickened, the gold under my skin brightening until the boy took an involuntary step back.
“Did she ask for me?” I asked.
He hesitated. “No, my lord. But she … she looked as though she might.”
That shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.
I turned my hand, studying the light pulsing there. “You may go.”
The boy fled. His footsteps faded quickly, swallowed by the corridors.
I stood for a long time without moving, torn between two equal dangers—seeing her again and not seeing her at all. My control had already cracked; one more look at her might finish the breaking.
Still, the thought of her alone in that chamber gnawed at the edges of restraint. I could almost feel the pulse of her warmth through the walls, the faint, steady rhythm of thawfire breathing somewhere close.
I drew my glove back on. The frostlight dimmed to obedient blue. A lie made visible.
The corridor outside glimmered with thin rivulets of melted frost. I stepped into it, and with each stride the water froze again beneath my boots, sealing every trace of gold behind me. For now, at least.
Distance was the answer, the only way to keep myself—and my Court—from unraveling. The mortal was nothing to me.
The more I told myself that, the more I believed it.