“The Veil fractures because we refuse to see what caused it,” Kaelith said. “The Dreamstone stirs—she didn’t create that. She’s the sign of it.”
Torrin’s sneer sharpened. “Excuses born of enchantment.”
Kael stepped forward then, tone disarmingly smooth. “Your Majesty, perhaps we could—”
“Sunfire has no counsel here,” the Frostfather thundered. A lash of wind burst outward; Kael stumbled back, boots skidding across new ice that formed beneath him. Frost climbed the hem of his cloak before he shook it free.
The king rose. Even standing still, he seemed taller than the hall should allow. “You, my heir, have brought Summer’s corruption into my keep and Winter’s ruin into my realm.”
Kaelith didn’t flinch. “If preserving the Veil is ruin, then let it ruin me.”
Gasps rippled through the court. I felt the temperature plunge, heard the walls groan under the strain.
The Frostfather’s hand lifted. “Then be ruined.”
The frostlight along Kaelith’s armor went out—snuffed like a candle. The runes etched into his pauldrons dulled to dead gray.
“By decree of the Winter Court,” Torrin announced, glee barely disguised, “the Frostbound Heir is stripped of command and bound to Skadar Hold until repentance cools his fever.”
Kaelith bowed only his head. Pride stayed where defiance could not. “As you wish, my king.”
When he straightened again, the look he gave Torrin could have frozen fire.
The Frostfather sank back onto his throne, voice fracturing to a whisper. “Leave her where the cold can watch her. We will see what melts first—the mortal … or my son’s conviction.”
The doors groaned open behind us. A tremor ran through the hall; somewhere beyond the walls, thunder rolled without sound. The light from the skylights fractured into silver veins across the floor—thin cracks of brilliance crawling outward, spreading faster than the frost could seal them.
Kaelith’s hand found my arm, steady but shaking. “We’re done here.”
As we turned to go, snow began to fall upward, rising through the fractured air. I didn’t look back, but I felt the Frostfather’s gaze follow until the doors slammed shut.
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.”
