“Forget it,” I muttered. “Forget her.”
But the frostlight in the corners hummed softly, stubborn as heartbeat.And I knew I wouldn’t.
The summons came before dawn.
I didn’t need to read it.When the frostlight in the walls shifted from blue to white, it meant only one thing: My father was waiting.
The throne hall was colder than the rest of Skadar Hold, as if Winter itself bent to his mood. I walked its length alone, the echo of my boots scattering through the vast chamber. Every sound felt too loud, every breath a trespass.
The Frostfather sat upon his throne of ice, unmoving, immaculate, and inhuman. Frost hung in the air around him like mist frozen mid-sigh.
“Kaelith.”My name cracked from his lips like ice breaking over stone.
I bowed low, keeping my eyes on the marble steps. “You called for me, Father.”
“I did.”
He leaned forward slightly, and the motion made the frostlight tremble. “They tell me the frost burns around you now.” A pause. He enjoyed silence. It gave him space to shape suspicion into truth.
“It’s unstable,” I said carefully. “A resonance flaw. The mortal’s presence—”
“The mortal,” he repeated, tasting the word. “She infects everything she touches. I should have seen it sooner.”
My stomach turned cold for the first time all night.
“She is not a contagion.”
The words slipped out sharper than I meant. His eyes snapped to mine, glacial, depthless, and filled with the kind of patience that only precedes cruelty.
“Not a contagion?” he said softly. “You defend her?”
“I report what I observe,” I said evenly. “Nothing more.”
He rose from the throne. The frost around him deepened in hue, turning almost black beneath his feet.“Then observe this: The Veil weakens. The Dreamstone stirs. And in the same breath, you—my heir, my weapon—begin to falter. Coincidence?”
No. He wanted an admission, not an answer.
“I remain in control,” I said.
He smiled. It held no warmth whatsoever. “Do you?”
The frostlight dimmed until the room was nothing but shadow and pale reflection.
“You’ve grown restless,” he said. “Your temper shortens. Your frost burns. And all since the mortal arrived. Tell me, Kaelith—does she keep you warm?”
The question hung in the air like poison. It was the closest he’d ever come to accusation.
I met his gaze. “She is under my guard, nothing more.”
“Guard?” His voice lilted with mockery. “Or keep?”
That word hit something deep inside me—something raw. The enchantment stirred, a slow pulse under my ribs. I took a breath, but the air was too thin.
“Winter must not love,” he said.
The words echoed through the hall, the weight of an ancient law behind them.
“I know,” I said quietly. “And I don’t.”
