I looked up sharply. “Enough for what?”
“To make people afraid. To make others curious. Both are dangerous in this Court.”
The tea’s steam ghosted against my fingers, warmer than I expected. I wanted to ask if she believed the rumors too, but her expression told me she didn’t. Or maybe she just pitied me too much to say.
When I didn’t answer, she poured herself a cup and sat across from me. “You know,” she said softly, “people are talking about what you did, how you saved that soldier.”
I met her eyes. “What are they saying?”
Her smile faded. “Some speak your praise.”
“You don’t sound pleased.”
“Others claim that the warmth will doom us all.”
I blew on the tea and took a sip. The flavors exploded on my tongue, at once both sweet and bitter. “And what do you say?”
Her gaze fell to the frostfire in the hearth. “It doesn’t matter. I only know that the prince won’t stand for the whispers much longer.”
“Which prince?” I asked.
Her smile returned, turning conspiratorial. “Both, perhaps.”
I didn’t know how I felt about that. It was one thing to capture the attention of a fae—even more so when two circled you. And like sharks drawn to blood, I knew that this Court would rip me to shreds for it.
My mind drifted back to Kaelith on the balcony, how he’d seemed about to kiss me. As torn as I was about being here, about this dangerous realm and its cruel people, they’d still treated me far better than the humans had in Hollowmere. They fed me, clothed me, and taught me their ways, which was more than what I could say about where I’d come from, where the only company I’d had was the puffmice in the cupboards, the tiny creatures whose fur puffed up when frightened.
Witch,my people had called me.Thaw,the Winter Court said. Here, they held a different kind of fear. Both were superstitious nonsense, in my opinion.
And yet I couldn’t deny the strange occurrences that were happening, and it was becoming harder and harder to dismiss as coincidence. Especially with the strange dreams.
The shard in my pocket was a condemning weight, a gallows above my head that I didn’t yet understand.
And I’d captured the fae princes’ attention, something that felt far more dangerous.
“Both, perhaps,” Maeryn had said.But her voice held something heavier than warning—resignation.
I set my cup down carefully, watching the tea ripple against the porcelain. “You make it sound like protection is a curse.”
“In Winter,” she said, “it often is.”
Her gaze drifted toward the frost-laced window, where sunlight struggled through clouds the color of slate. “The Heir doesn’t choose easily whom he guards. But once he does…” Her voice trailed off, a faint crease forming between her brows. “The Court takes note. So does his father.”
I swallowed. “You mean they’ll turn against me.”
She hesitated. “They already are. They just haven’t decided how loudly yet.”
The words should have frightened me more than they did. Maybe I’d grown numb to threat, or maybe I was just too tired to keep being afraid.
Maeryn sighed and brushed a hand across the table, tracing the edge of a thin layer of frost that had begun to form there. “You think the frost is cold, but it listens. It remembers what it touches. You stood beside him last night. That’s enough to make it rememberyou.”
“I didn’t ask for that,” I said quietly.
“Few do. Fewer survive it.”
Her tone was matter-of-fact, but I saw the flicker of emotion behind it—pity, or maybe understanding. She looked at me as if she’d seen this story before and knew how it usually ended.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us filled with the distant sound of dripping water, soft and steady. Somewhere, the ice was melting.
