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Atlas approaches on high alert, noticing the tears welling in my eyes. Before he can say anything, Thrane bows to me and says, "Congratulations on your engagement, Cousin," before retreating with his mask firmly back in place.
Atlas reaches my side and together we watch Thrane walk away. "What did he say to you? Are you alright?"
"He wanted to warn me," I say, though my eyes are still fixed on Thrane's back until he slips out of my line of sight.
Atlas grabs my shoulders and forces me to face him. "Did he threaten you?"
"No," I shake my head and swallow to keep my fears in check. "He told me I've made an enemy of Armas Basilius, and I should watch my back." When Atlas doesn't say anything in response, I say, "We need to leave the city before it's too late."
Atlas escorts me back to my chambers and refuses to leave until I promise to stay here until he returns with the others. I want to argue that I can help track down our friends but think better of it. If the Frost King notices we've all gone missing from the party, or that Atlas and I are gathering them in the hallway, he might prevent us from leaving. Time is of the essence, so I agree to Atlas' terms and the second he closes my door, I cast off the beautiful custom-made gown and lay it neatly on my mattress. Shimmying as fast as I can into my traveling clothes, I start writing a letter to my mother. I don't want her waking up tomorrow morning to discover I left without saying a word, but suddenly my pen stops scrawling, and I stare out the window at the mountain in the short distance where Seraxes sleeps. I won't just be leaving my mother, I'll be abandoning Seraxes, and if I disappear a second time, I know she will never forgive me.
There has to be another way. Running is cowardly, even if it is the best chance for us to survive the Frost King's wrath.
"Armas is not your friend. You might have won tonight, but he won't accept defeat. He will come for you."
Thrane's voice echoes in my head and an unease seeps into my soul. What if he lied about Armas' wrath because he wants me to leave? He was supposed to be announced as the next heir to the Frost Throne during Levanora, but with my unexpected return home, he has been overshadowed by me. Perhaps, he's jealous that all the attention that used to be solely his, is now fixated on me. With me out of the picture, his life will go back to the way it was.
I shake those thoughts free. Based on appearance alone, Thrane might be cunning and self-serving, but I've come to know him better than that over the last couple weeks.
I crumple the half-written letter and toss it into my fireplace and watch it sizzle into ash, before I tighten my bootstraps and make my way to my bedroom door. I need to find Atlas and put a halt to our escape. Quite frankly, I'm tired of running.
As I swing the door open, I am startled to find two Frost Elf soldiers standing outside my room. The moment they see me, they bow, and the taller of the two steps toward me. "Your Majesty, we've come to escort you."
I furrow my brow, just now noticing the patch on the arm of their white uniforms signifies they're the Frost King's personal guards. "Escort me where exactly?"
"His Royal Highness, King Armas has requested your immediate presence in his throne room." He extends his hand and motions for me to follow. When I don't immediately make a move to obey, his hard-set silver eyes narrow, warning if I don't comply, I will be dragged where I need to go.
I contemplate the repercussions of using my light magic against royal guards but think better of it. To attack the Frost King's elite would certainly be seen as an act of treason and I'm not here to start a war. Reluctantly, I walk with the soldiers who flank me. We make the trek to the throne room in complete silence. I know they won't answer my questions or give me information their king didn't sanction, so I take a deep breath and brace myself for whatever punishment Armas Basilius is brewing in his head. As long as Atlas got to the others, I'll be happy. This is my battle to face and my kin to fight. I need my friends to stay away so they don't become collateral damage.
When I first met the Frost King, it was in this very throne room. Somehow, the bright and mystical hall from day one is dark and cold tonight. Armas sits on his throne made from a solid block of ice in his Levanora finery. His crown is in perfect position and not one hair on his head is out of place. His grey eyes are both triumphant and defeated and I have a feeling I'm walking straight into a trap.
Something in my peripheral catches my eye and I see Thrane stand from his seat and walk up the steps of the dais to stand at his grandfather's right-hand side. He looks at me and just as the first day we met, I find he is positively unreadable. Why is he here?
Armas glares at me from head-to-toe when I stop a few feet from the dais and says, "You're dressed for traveling." It's a statement. He knows exactly what I was planning, and now I know for certain, I'm in danger.
I clear my throat and straighten to my full height. He won't see me cower or shrink before him. I know who I am and neither one of my parents were known to grovel.
"Does my choice of clothing offend you?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. "Is that why you had your guards bring me here at this time of night? You want to discuss my outfit?"
The corner of Thrane's mouth ticks upward, but our grandfather's pale face reddens, and he sputters, "You were brought before me at this time of night because of the stunt you pulled in the ballroom."
"Stunt? I believe I did as you bade me. I swore fealty to House Basilius and gave my hand to one of our strongest allies. You're welcome for strengthening relations with Tronovia. " I enjoy watching his frown settle into his features.
"I beg your pardon?" he spits.
"Ah, ah, ah," I wag my index finger. "A Basilius never begs."
A huff slips from Thrane's lips, and I force myself not to laugh.
"Your disrespect has no bounds," Armas hisses. "I know how to stay that wicked tongue of yours." He snaps and the side doors to the throne room open.
My heart drops the second I see Atlas and my mother, with their hands bound behind their backs, dragged inside by the Frost King's elite soldiers. Though my mother is physically unharmed, blood oozes down the side of Atlas' face from where I can only assume he's been struck.
Professor Riggs was right. I let my guard down and publicly proclaimed my love for Atlas, putting him in harm's way. I thought I was safe here, but I'm learning that I might not be truly safe anywhere. I should have kept my relationship with Atlas a secret and found another way to defy Armas' orders, but I was foolish. I was selfish. I wanted everyone to know Atlas was mine and mine alone. Now, I'm paying the price for my brashness. Armas has been playing political games for centuries. His trickery pales in comparison to my own. And with my mother thrown in as collateral, I'm realizing the lengths the Frost King will go to in order to punish me.
Even though they're gagged, denying them the opportunity to speak, the second my eyes meet Atlas', I know something is horribly wrong. He and my mother have the power to break through those bonds easily with their magic, why aren't they fighting back?
"If you are wondering why your shadow wielder and mother are so compliant, it's because I've tamed them." A wicked smile stretches across his face, sending an icy shiver down my spine.
