Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Katria
Night fell, but the sky never darkened.
From the highest balcony, I watched streaks of white fire crawl across the clouds, silent at first, then humming like a thousand struck chords. Each pulse carved faint fractures of light through the firmament—thin, blinding lines that didn’t fade.
The Veil.
Kaelith had called it the skin between realms, the barrier that kept dream from waking, death from crossing. Tonight it looked less like skin and more like glass beginning to break.
Down below, Skadar Hold shivered. Windows bloomed with frost even where no wind touched them; runes along the walls flickered in panic. Somewhere in the courtyards, a bell began to toll—slow, uncertain, as though the castle itself had forgotten which warning it was meant to give.
Behind me, footsteps tinkled off the frozen floors. Kael.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” His voice carried that careless warmth that never quite reached his eyes. “Terrifying, but beautiful.”
I turned. The aurora’s strange red light gilded the copper in his hair, made his grin look almost brave.
“You’ve seen it before?” I asked.
“Not like this.” He leaned on the railing beside me, looking up. “Last time the Veil flickered, it was only a rumor—dreams crossing into daylight, nothing more. This…” He gestured toward the fractures. “This is the kind of beauty that kills.”
For a moment, we simply watched. The wind from the heights carried the faint scent of ozone and pine. Somewhere far below, Fenrir’s howl answered the sky.
Kael’s tone softened. “He’s in the war room, you know. Still arguing with Torrin. Trying to convince the madman that you’re not some omen of the end.”
I smiled faintly. “Is he winning?”
“Not even close.” He pushed away from the railing and faced me fully. “Torrin wants you bound, maybe worse. The Frostfather’s too far gone to argue. Kaelith’s the only reason they haven’t dragged you to the dungeons yet.”
“Then why do I feel like the dungeon would be warmer?”
That made him chuckle, quiet and genuine. “You’re getting good at this—laughing in the face of doom.”
“Maybe I’m learning from you.”
“Dangerous teacher.” His grin faltered, replaced by something gentler. “I’m leaving at dawn.”
The words settled between us like falling ash. “Leaving?”
“The Summer Court needs to know what’s happening. If the Veil breaks, it won’t stop at Winter’s border.”
I looked back at the sky. The fractures had widened, spilling threads of light that looked almost alive. “So you’ll go warn them.”
He nodded. “Someone has to prepare defenses. Kaelith can’t, not anymore.”
Something tight coiled in my chest. “And you’ll leave him here? Alone—with this?”
Kael’s eyes darkened. “He chose that. He’s always chosen Winter, even when it’s killing him.”
“He’s still your brother.”
“That’s why it hurts,” he said softly. “Because I can’t save him from himself.”
A gust of wind cut through the balcony, scattering frost into the air like shards of glass. Kael caught a few in his palm; they melted instantly against his skin. “See? That’s the difference between us. He freezes everything he touches. I burn through it.”
I hesitated. “You think that’s why the Veil’s breaking—because of what you are?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think we all break things when we care too much. But no, I don’t think it has anything to do with me.”
Before I could answer, the doors below burst open. Kaelith strode into the courtyard, armor half-unbuckled, frostlight glinting erratic and unsteady. Even from above, I could feel the cold rolling off him—fierce, restless, barely restrained.
He looked up. Our gazes met.
“Inside. Now,” he called. His voice echoed against the ice walls, sharp as a blade.
Kael leaned over the railing. “Still bossy for a man who just got dethroned.”
“Inside,” Kaelith repeated. “The Veil’s bleeding through the wards.”
A tremor ran through the stones beneath our feet. Fine cracks webbed the balustrade, glowing faintly with that same white light. Kael muttered a curse.
“Guess the conversation’s over,” he said.
I started toward the stairs, Kael right behind me. When we reached the lower landing, Kaelith was waiting, breath fogging the air in short bursts.
“Where were you?” he demanded.
“Admiring the apocalypse,” Kael said.
Kaelith ignored him. His eyes cut to me, quick and searching. “Did you feel anything?”
I blinked. “What?”
“When the cracks widened. Heat, pain, a pull?”
I hesitated. “Yes. Like pressure in my chest.”
Kaelith swore under his breath. “It’s resonating with you.”
Kael stepped closer, tone suddenly serious. “Then she needs to be taken out of the Hold—away from Father’s wards before they collapse.”
“No,” Kaelith said. “If the Veil tears, every road becomes death. We stay until I can stabilize it.”
“Stabilize?” Kael laughed, harsh. “You don’t even have your command, Brother. Or have you forgotten?”
The look Kaelith gave him could have frozen fire. “Then I’ll do it without a title.”
The stones trembled again—louder this time. Overhead, a fissure of pure light cracked open across the sky, casting the courtyard in a sickly glow. The sound that followed wasn’t thunder. It was something deeper, like the world exhaling through broken glass.
Kaelith grabbed my wrist. “Get below. Now.”
I looked up at the sky one last time. The Veil was no longer fracturing—it was pulsing, alive and dying all at once. Threads of brilliance reached down through the clouds, searching, and when one brushed against the towers of Skadar Hold, the entire keep flared like a lantern.
The light swallowed everything.
When it finally faded, sound came rushing back—doors slamming open, shouts from the upper corridors, the frantic pounding of boots on marble.
I blinked against the afterimage burning my vision. The hall was no longer still. Frost dripped from the ceilings like rain; the runes along the walls throbbed in uneven rhythm. It felt as if the entire keep were breathing around us, shallow and panicked.
Kaelith’s grip was still on my wrist. His eyes had gone almost white, shards of pale silver threaded with light.
“Don’t move,” he said.
“I—” I looked down. The floor beneath us glowed faintly, a ring of frost spiraling outward from where I stood. It pulsed in time with my heartbeat. “Kaelith, what’s happening?”
His answer came through gritted teeth. “The Veil’s leaking. And it’s found you.”
Kael’s voice cut through the chaos. “That glow isn’t normal, Brother.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Kaelith snapped. He released me abruptly, stepping back as if the nearness itself burned. “The wards are collapsing—we need to move.”
Servants darted past us carrying relics and scrolls. Somewhere deeper in the hold, a crash echoed, followed by the unmistakable crack of stone splitting. The air shimmered, bright and wrong. I could taste it—like lightning and salt.
Kael grabbed my arm. “We’re not waiting for the roof to fall. The southern gate leads straight to the Frostwood.”
Kaelith turned on him, frostlight surging under his skin. “You’ll be torn apart before you reach the gate. The Veil’s currents are unpredictable.”
“Unpredictable, I can handle. Father’s wrath, not so much.” Kael’s grin didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll head for the border. You can play savior later.”
The temperature dropped, so sudden that frost bloomed along Kael’s boots. Kaelith’s voice lowered. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”
The space between them shimmered—heat from one, ice from the other, colliding in faint ripples of vapor. I could feel it thrumming in my bones.
“Maybe she should decide,” Kael said lightly, but the edge beneath it was real. “You act like she’s your prisoner, not your equal.”
Kaelith’s reply was sharp enough to cut. “I act like the man keeping her alive.”
“And failing spectacularly,” Kael muttered.
“Enough!” I said, louder than I meant to. The walls answered with a groan, flakes of frost tumbling like ash. Snow continued falling upward, an outward sign of the realm’s growing instability. Both men fell silent.
I swallowed hard. “If we stay, we die. If we run, maybe we still die—but at least it’s outside these walls.”
Kaelith’s gaze fixed on me. The light from the Veil reflected off his armor, painting him in ghostly color. “You think I haven’t considered that?” he said quietly. “You think I don’t see what it’s doing to you?”
“What it’s doing to me?”
He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “Every pulse of that light answers you. The Frostfather will see it soon—he’ll call it corruption, and Torrin will make it a sentence.”
Kael brushed frost from his cloak. “Then we leave before they do.”
“No.” Kaelith’s jaw tightened. “If the Veil has chosen her, then leaving Winter won’t stop it. I have to understand why.”
Kael laughed once, sharp and humorless. “Still pretending this is research?”
Something dangerous flickered in Kaelith’s eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Kael said, stepping forward until they were almost chest to chest. “You’ve fallen for her, and it’s unraveling you. That’s the truth you keep locking behind duty.”
The frostlight flared—brief, blinding. Kaelith’s voice came low. “Say that again.”
Kael’s smile was faint and merciless. “You heard me.”
For the space of a breath, I thought they’d strike each other. Then another tremor shook the keep; a section of the ceiling gave way, spraying shards of ice between them. The shock broke whatever spell had formed.
Kaelith turned away first. “Fine. Run to Summer. Warn your court. But if you cross the Frostwood, you’ll see what this is really doing to the realm.”
Kael’s expression softened just enough to be regret. “Take care of her, Brother.”
“She’s safer with Fenrir than with me,” Kaelith muttered.
He didn’t watch Kael leave, but I did. The Summer prince vanished into the white glare of the courtyard, cloak snapping like flame against snow.