His gaze flicked down to my mouth, then back to my eyes. “I’m still deciding.”
My breath caught before I could stop it.
He paused at another mural, this one showing a vast hunt: Winter riders chasing what looked like a storm given form. The ice rippled with light when he touched it.
“They say these beasts once guarded the Veil between worlds,” he said. “Now they’re hunted for sport.”
“By the Winter Court?”
He nodded. “It’s what happens to everything strong enough to be feared.”
The words hung heavy between us. I thought of myself then, of what the villagers had said back home—that I was dangerous simply because I was different.
Kael must have seen something in my face, because his tone softened. “You understand that, don’t you?”
I met his gaze. “Too well.”
When I glanced back, he was watching me—not with mockery, not even flirtation, but something steadier. Warmer. Like he’d made up his mind about something and was waiting for me to catch up.
“Beasts of Winter hide,” he said softly. “The ones from Summer chase. I’ll let you guess which kind I am.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer, caught somewhere between curiosity and hesitation. But in the end, I chose silence. It was, after all, the safest form of protection in this Court.
Then, mercifully, a bell rang somewhere deep in the Hold. Kael stepped back, the tension snapping like ice underfoot.
He gave a low, rueful laugh. “Saved again. Seems the castle’s on your side.”
“I’m starting to think it likes you better.”
“I doubt that. It’s far too loyal to its heir.”
He started toward the archway then paused. “Careful, Katria. Don’t let anyone in Winter hear you speak too kindly of fire.”
And then he was gone. Only the faint warmth on the stone where he’d stood and my faithless heart proved he’d ever been there at all.
Chapter twenty-nine
Katria
It started with whispers.
They moved faster than frost across glass—small, silvery things that slithered through the halls long before I heard them spoken aloud. Maeryn tried to shield me from them at first, keeping me busy with errands and lessons in etiquette I hadn’t asked for, but silence never lasted long here, hard as the fae tried to cling to it. It just waited to be broken.
I felt the shift before I understood it. Guards who used to nod in passing now turned away. Courtiers paused mid-bow when I entered a room. Even the frostlight dimmed when I crossed the threshold, as though it wanted to hide me.
By the third day, it wasn’t whispers anymore.
“…both of them,” one voice murmured as I walked past the northern hall.
“She must be enchanted,” another hissed. “No mortal wins the eye of one prince, let alone two.”
“She’ll bring ruin to the Hold.”
They didn’t lower their voices fast enough. I kept walking, back straight, every step loud enough to drown the sound of my own pulse. I told myself it didn’t matter, but the ache behind my ribs said otherwise.
First, I’d been called a witch; now it was harlot.
When I returned to my chamber, Maeryn was waiting, folding linens that didn’t need folding. Her eyes lifted just once before she spoke, her face softening in understanding. “They talk because they’re frightened.”
