Chapter 4

SERILDA

"Have you decided?"

I nodded quietly and said nothing.

After that night, I'd shut myself in my room for two whole days.

My father ran his thumb along the oaken scepter in his hands, scrubbed a hand over his face, and spoke heavily.

"It's a long road from here to the Frostline. Leave during the gloaming, while the palace sleeps. Don't wait for the day of the lottery."

"The Winter delegation will meet you on the far side of the Frostline. If Thalion Riven slights you even once, I swear I'll set the whole border ablaze again."

"Take whatever you want with you."

I gave him a small, bitter smile and shook my head.

"There's nothing, Father."

"I don't want to take anything with me."

The gloaming before the lottery, most of the unwed fae maidens were too anxious to sleep.

Every one of them was terrified that tomorrow she'd be the one to pull the frost-touched acorn from the silver bowl.

Word of my visit to the king spread like wildfire.

Barely had the echoes died down before a frantic pounding rattled my door. It swung open, and Joren stormed in, his features hardened into a mask of cold fury.

"Serilda! What exactly did you say to the King this time?"

Orian was right behind him, frowning as he looked around the room.

When he saw the few things I'd packed and set aside, he paused.

Finnian stood at the back, watching me in silence.

Any other time, being falsely accused like this would have had me leaping up, frantic, until my father came running to take my side.

But now I was just tired.

Slowly, I folded a shawl of gold silk, a little worn at the edges.

Finnian had once crossed three mountain ridges to find it for me.

I used to love it.

"Say something!"

Joren snapped at me, impatient, his lip curling with disgust.

"What else can you do except hide behind the king? If you've pulled some dirty trick to get Nerysah sent to the Winter Court, I swear I'll—"

"You'll what? Kill me?"

Joren's mouth snapped shut.

The room went still.

Orian took half a step forward, his voice coaxing.

"Sera, come on. Stop this. Just tell us what you said to the king."

I looked up at him, numb.

If I explained, would they listen? Would they want me to stay?

I turned it over and over, and every time I landed on the same answer.

No.

Suddenly, I laughed.

"Fine. Yes. I want Nerysah gone."

All three of them went rigid.

I gripped the shawl tighter.

"I'm jealous of her. I hate her for taking you from me. So I went and begged my father."

"I told him that as long as Nerysah stays in the Summer Court, I'll make a scene every single day until no one has a moment's peace."

A vein throbbed at Joren's temple. "Serilda! Don't you dare!"

"Oh, I dare."

"My father loves me best of all. Isn't that what everyone says? Ever since I was little, all I've ever had to do is cry and beg, and he gives me whatever I want."

Finnian stared at me, silent.

"The king won't act on your word alone."

I managed a thin, bleak smile. Then I pulled the gold silk shawl back out of my bundle and dropped it on the floor.

"Well. You'll all find out first thing tomorrow."

The three knights left with faces like thunder.

I watched their backs disappear. Then I picked up my bundle.

My father was already waiting beside the stag-drawn carriage.

His eyes were red. He wrapped a thick fur cloak around my shoulders and pressed a bulging pouch into my hands.

"Inside are rare tinctures, enchanted rations, and jewels to buy whatever you lack. The frost of the Winter Court shows no mercy, Serilda. Keep yourself alive."

I climbed into the carriage and took one last look at the Summer Court in the gloaming light.

The honey-colored stone towers. The golden oaks. The only home I'd ever known.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, there was nothing left in them but resolve.

"I will."

——

The horn sounded at the end of the gloaming, while the light was still a pale, ashy gold.

The palace square was packed. The unwed maidens stood huddled at the front, white-knuckled, their families pressed close behind them. On the dais beside the king, the silver bowl caught the sun.

The three knights had come early, and they had come braced.

Joren searched the crowd for one face. He'd expected to find her up on the dais at her father's elbow, chin high, wearing the smug little smile she wore whenever she'd gotten her way. He'd lain awake half the gloaming rehearsing what he would say to her.

The dais held only the king and the bowl.

"She's not here," Orian said. He'd already circled the square twice.

On the dais, King Brenn Veyra rose.

"People of the Summer Court." His voice carried to the farthest colonnade. "This year's lottery is canceled. One maiden has already volunteered to go to Winter."

The square erupted.

"Who would volunteer?"

"Is she mad? It's the Winter Court!"

Joren's first thought, and he would hate himself for it later, was Nerysah. That Serilda had done exactly what she'd sworn to do. He swung around, but Nerysah stood at the edge of the crowd with Moren on her hip, as startled as everyone else.

When he turned back, the king was looking straight at the three of them.

"My daughter," he said. "Serilda. She left at the gloaming."

The noise of the square went on. For the three of them, it stopped.