And for the first time since I’d come to the Winter Court, the cold no longer felt cold at all.
Chapter twenty-four
Katria
Iwoke to the sound of the frostglass door creaking open—slow, hesitant, as though whoever entered would rather not have come at all. Maeryn stood in the threshold, her hands clasped around a small silver scroll-tube sealed with the Frostfather’s sigil.
The light slanting through the windows was thin and colorless, the kind that makes the world feel half-frozen and half-awake. She didn’t speak at first, and that silence told me more than words could.
“You’re here early,” I said, my voice rough with sleep.
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “I would have let you sleep longer if I could.”
Something in her tone set my stomach sinking. I sat up, clutching the blanket around my shoulders. “What is it?”
She crossed the room and held out the scroll. The seal glimmered faintly blue, as if alive. “A summons.”
I didn’t take it. “From whom?” I had a sinking suspicion I already knew.
Maeryn looked at me, pity shadowing her eyes. “Who else?”
I glanced down at the scroll-tube. The Frostfather’s sigil was unmistakable—the jagged crown of ice encircled by runes that never quite stopped shifting. The air around it felt colder than the rest of the room.
“What does he want with me?”
“To be seen,” she said quietly. “And to be reminded who holds the leash.”
I flinched. “So this is punishment.”
“It’s ceremony,” she corrected, though her voice was bitter. “Tonight is the Feast of Winter’s Triumph. The Frostfather wishes his Court to see how well his son’s mortal pet … behaves.”
The wordpetmade the air feel thinner. I swallowed hard. “And if I don’t go?”
Her eyes darted to the door, as if the walls themselves might hear. “Then he’ll send guards to fetch you, and it will be worse.”
The silence between us stretched, heavy and brittle. Maeryn finally reached out and placed the scroll on the table beside my bed. Frost crawled across the wood the instant it touched the surface.
“I’ll help you prepare,” she said. “But Katria …”
I met her gaze.
“They won’t be looking at you to celebrate,” she murmured. “They’ll be looking for cracks.”
We moved through the motions in silence after that. She lit the frostlamps, their glow cold and white, and began gathering garments from the wardrobe the Court had assigned me. Every piece was too fine, too pale, too foreign. I’d never seen so much silk that looked like it had been spun from snow.
“They’ll dress you in silver,” Maeryn said, her tone flat. “To match the walls.”
I managed a weak smile. “So I disappear?”
“So they can decide if you belong.”
She laid out a gown unlike anything I’d ever worn—long sleeves that shimmered like frozen mist, tiny crystals stitched along the bodice, aneckline modest but cut sharp as a blade. Even the shoes glittered faintly, their soles cold to the touch.
As I stood before the mirror, Maeryn adjusted the fabric on my shoulders. “The Court feeds on appearance. If you stand tall, they’ll question whether you know something they don’t. If you look afraid, they’ll be right.”
“So I pretend?”
“So you survive.”
