After leaving Fletcher in a sunny parlor to snooze, I ran through the corridors, my mind already racing ahead to what we’d need to do next. If ancient ice was the problem, we needed to either cover it or accelerate its sublimation in a controlled way. My weather magic could help with the latter. I could raise the temperature enough to speed the process, then contain the particle release to prevent it from spreading to the two courts.
But I’d need help. Dragon shifters to locate the exact formations. Cooperation from both courts to coordinate theeffort. And I’d need Raoul’s diplomatic skills to make it happen without making the problem worse.
I found him in the council chamber, surrounded by advisors who were arguing about Summit seating arrangements.
He looked tired, the shadows under his eyes suggesting he’d stayed up late managing preparations. But when he saw me burst through the door, his expression softened.
“Adele.” He stood, cutting off an advisor mid-sentence. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s. Everything’s right.” I clutched my notes to my chest. “I found the answer. I believe I know what’s causing the babies to suffer.”
The room went silent. Every advisor turned to stare.
“You’re certain?” Raoul asked, his voice carefully neutral, but I read hope in his voice.
“I need to explain, and it’s complicated, and—” I glanced at the advisors, suddenly aware that I’d crashed into a formal council meeting. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t interrupt anything important,” Raoul said, which earned him affronted looks from the advisors. He ignored them, moving toward me. “Everyone out. Now.”
“But Your Majesty, the seating arrangements?—”
“Can wait.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “My wife may have solved a crisis that threatened to start a war. That takes precedence over where people sit at dinner.”
The advisors filed out, shutting the door behind them.
Raoul’s attention never left my face. “Tell me everything.”
I spread my notes on the council table. “I’m almostcertain we’re dealing with ice sublimation. Ancient ice formations exposed by that tremor two months ago.”
“Ancient ice?” He frowned, studying my diagrams. “In the peaks?”
“Deep in the peaks. Formations that have been there for a very long time, buried under rock and ice. The tremor cracked the stone, exposing them to warm air for the first time in who knows how long.”
I traced the diagram with my finger, showing him the sublimation cycle I’d outlined on paper. “When temperature fluctuates, such as a warming day, the ice transitions directly from solid to gas. But it’s not pure ice. It contains centuries of accumulated mineral deposits. Dust, volcanic ash, trace metals, all concentrated over time.”
“And when it sublimates…”
“It releases those particles into the air. They’re small and light enough to stay airborne for hours, traveling on wind currents until atmospheric pressure changes force them to settle.”
Raoul studied the notes, working through the implications. “The timing matches. That’s when the babies are the worst.”
“Exactly. And babies, with their tiny developing airways, are the most vulnerable.”
“What about the geographic differences? Why is Goldwing’s situation worse?”
I pulled out my maps, showing him the orientation of both courts relative to the area where I believed the ice had been exposed. “Prevailing winds. Goldwing’s dwellings face southwest, directly in the path of the primary air currents. Silvervale faces more eastward, so they’re getting a lower concentration. That’s why Goldwing’s hatchlings are coughing in addition to sneezing.”
“Fates.” He ran a hand through his hair. “All this tension, the accusations, and the threats of war could be over melting ice.”
“Ice no one knew was there.” I touched his arm. “It’s not anyone’s fault, Raoul. How could they have known?”
“They couldn’t have.” His jaw remained tight. “Which is why they should’ve trusted each other instead of immediately assuming malice.”
He had a point. The situation had escalated quickly because both courts had jumped to accusations instead of working together to find answers.
“Can we fix it?” he asked, turning to face me fully. “Is there a solution?”
“Yes.” My certainty must’ve shown in my voice because his expression shifted, hope blooming. “We need to accelerate the sublimation process in a controlled environment. I can use my weather magic to raise the temperature around the ice formations, speed up the transition from solid to gas. But we need to contain the particle release, prevent it from spreading to populated areas.”
