Theron winces, but he doesn’t counter me, and I don’t apologize.
Noam strides to us as if on cue, his arms tucked behind his back. “One of my ships will be waiting on the Feni.”
“So kind of you,” I bite, teeth clenched.
Noam cocks his head. “Do not forget what we discussed, Lady Queen. The conditions of your return are nonnegotiable.”
Bring me the keys or Cordell’s charade of caring for Winter is over.
Fury burns from my stomach straight up my throat, but I say nothing. A queen wouldn’t.
Noam pivots away, heading to his own caravan, one bound for Gaos so he can inspect the magic chasm entrance himself. I hope he tries to reach the door. At least once.
I heave myself onto my horse as Sir approaches me.
“Everything will be taken care of, and you’ll be informed of any changes,” he says.
I blink at him. Just orders now, orders and duty andpride, that’s all Sir is.
The wind blows at me, swirling snowflakes through my loose white curls. I fight to keep the smile on my face, but the longer Sir stands there, spewing information about my absence, the more I can’t hold on to my resolve. One moment of truth, and I’ll go back to being an obedientlittle queen. I’ll be perfect and calm and emotionless—someone Sir will continue to be proud of.
“I understand why you did it,” I whisper, cutting off his explanation of which new mines will be opened while I’m gone. “I understand why you hid everything from me and Mather and why it’s all backward now. But what I don’t understand is why you hated who I used to be so much. Why you knew how badly I needed you to love me, yet you refused to give me that. Did you blame me for everything?” I gasp, the air thin. “Maybe it was my fault. I caused a lot of our problems, I know I did, but I swear to you—I’ll be a better queen.”
Sir’s frown slides off, his face blank, a stone statue come to life. “This is not your fault.”
I wait for him to say more. To tell me he doesn’t hate me, he never did.
“We will await your return most anxiously, my queen,” he says with a bow.
I don’t bother seeing whomever else wishes to bid me farewell. With a flick of my reins, the horse moves forward, winding toward the head of the caravan.
As I ride, someone pulls his horse alongside me. He leans across the space between us and puts his hand on mine, a small gesture that makes me glance at him, at his soft smile and the way his golden hair waves in the snowy air.
“It’s going to be all right,” Theron promises.
“Doubtful.”
He shrugs. “We’re the most capable people I know. We’ll find the keys, and we’ll win against my father, and the world will be at peace.”
I throw him an exasperated stare. “Your optimism is annoying.”
“That doesn’t stop me from being right,” he says, grinning.
I glance over my shoulder, eyes darting through the crowd, until I see the Winterians by the palace dispersing. Alysson heads toward the cottages, and Sir walks away . . . and Mather.
He stands with a group of boys, half listening to them and half watching me.
I spin away, eyes closed, and let Theron’s grip lead our horses through the streets.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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Mather
WILLIAM’S OFFICE WASby far the dreariest room in the palace. Just off an open-air walkway, anyone moving past it would see what had once been a garden around the back of the palace, gray stone fountains coated in ice, dead plants frozen beneath layers of flakes, and the snow-covered buildings of the southern part of Jannuari. A nice view, all for a windowless, dark room lined with empty bookshelves and two sad sconces holding up jagged clumps of candle wax. A desk sat surrounded by three chairs, every free surface covered in papers and scrolls. It had been just as disheveled each time Mather had been there.
