“The king made it,” I say numbly. “To prove how easily fae can erase Oreans.”
Silence stretches between us. I wince at the sound of the soldiers outside.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Pulling my gaze away from the ceiling, I blink at Dommik’s question. “Aside from the obvious?”
“Yes, aside from that.”
I stare straight ahead. “Well, I was foolish at the bridge, an army is marching, the fae king made threats, I’m captured in Seventh Kingdom, and I’m trapped here with a shadow assassin. My history is repeating itself.” I laugh bleakly. “Although, that last one isn’t quite so bad this time around.”
He doesn’t join in with my attempt at dry humor. Instead, I feel him straining to look over at me, his silence filling the already quiet castle. He’s deciphering me the same way healways has—as if he’s delving down past my top layer to root around in the parts I’ve buried.
My eyes drop to my hands, and I drag my finger over the slice down my left palm. No shards of ice are gathered there now, just the faintest blue stains down the unsealed gash.
“There’s something else,” Dommik says quietly. “Tell me.”
I go still for a moment.
The intensity of his tone tells me he’s not going to drop this. So I swallow, placing my shaky hands back to my lap. “It was only something those fae twins said.”
“What did they say?”
A torn-away sigh escapes me, the end jagged, the taste bitter.
“They pointed out the Coliers are the longest-ruling monarchs in Orea’s history.”
Dommik waits for me to keep going.
“The longest-ruling. An ancient royal bloodline flowing right here in my veins,” I say, jerking my hand up to view the blue lines that run beneath my pale skin. “And I’ve ruined it. I’ve failed.”
Tears spring to my eyes as my throat tightens. “Willingness,” I murmur. “That’s what they said. The bridge has always been about willingness.”
Looking around the pillar, I focus on his intent face. “It wouldn’t have worked,” I say quietly. “My blood. Not if I hadn’t been willing. That was the key, Dommik. That was what damned us all. How willing I was.”
A tear drips over my cheek, and a shiver runs along my spine. I glance down where my sleeves have rolled up, at where goose bumps litter my arms.
“You feel cold?” he asks, his tone tinged in shock. “Youneverfeel cold.”
The Cold Queen who never felt coldness, yet now, I’m chilled through.
All because of that one single word.
Willingness.
CHAPTER 49
SLADE
More Vulmin arrive in Lydiaahead of Wick’s estimation. A collection of fae who have traveled from all over Annwyn. And each one of them bears the mark of their cause: a broken-winged bird sigil worn boldly on their bodies.
This influx has made more citizens of Lydia brave the streets, curiosity and a demand to know what’s happening to their city overcoming their fear of the rumored dragon running rampant.
Everyone has gathered outside our building, demanding answers.
“This seems tentative,” Auren murmurs beside me as we look down from the balcony to the street below. “They could turn on each other.”
“They could,” I agree as I watch Wick.
