11. Storms

Chapter 11

Storms

ELIO

T he pesky little cameras Paul tinkered with for this year's pageant emit dull electronic beeps as they follow me past the ropes and into my private study. I ice every single one of them and watch them shatter into pieces with a dark grin.

Byron spares them a nervous glance.

I hold out my index finger. "I don't want to hear one word about the cameras. Where is Sara?"

"She's outside, giving the dandelion fluff a piece of her mind?—"

Another camera rushes in, and I blast it with an icicle, making it explode in mid-air. The metal pieces tinkle over the paved stones.

Byron's wings twitch at his back, the Faeling clearly biting his tongue.

"You're going to go back out there and tell Paul that if one more of his fucking cameras flies into my private space again, he can pack his bags and find himself a new job." I rake a hand through my hair, about ready to tear it off my skull. "I need to see him, and get me your mistress, too."

"At once, Your Majesty." Byron flies off.

After he's gone, I choke on a ragged breath.

What I saw out there is impossible. A fucking tear stings my cheek, and I wipe it off with a snarl. My limbs shake violently, my entire nervous system throwing a fit, and I grip the back of the velvet armchair in front of me to get a hold of myself.

Adrenaline pulses through my blood as my magic goes haywire the way it used to at the beginning of my reign, back when I was still adjusting. Ice spreads from my feet and cracks the paved stones. A pure wave of frost rolls across the study and washes off on the walls and windows. Its undertow brings my heart to a full stop, more potent than any spell—more dangerous than the darkest soul I ever hunted back when I was still part of the Sun Court.

I'm losing control, and that's not good. The magic I carry is strongest and most volatile near the solstice, and I can't afford to lose my grip on it.

Paul and Sara knock on the door a few minutes later.

"Come in," I say.

They tiptoe inside the room, taking stock of the damage. I'm the perfect picture of pissed-off royalty, but the room itself is in ruins. Tapestries peel off the frozen walls, the windows shattered, and the centennial floors cracked in many places.

A cold breeze slips past the jagged shards of the broken windows.

"I want her out. I want her out now, " I growl to no one in particular.

"The votes already catapulted her to first place—" Paul says, but I cut him off.

"I don't care."

His eyes soften. "She looks so similar to Iris… It's only natural for you to be shaken."

Sara scoffs at his bad faith. "Similar? Come on, Paul. She's exactly like Iris."

"Alright, she looks exactly the same." He slicks his gray hair over his head. "But there must be a reasonable explanation."

"Blood magic?" Sara offers.

Paul chokes on her hypotheses and taps his heart with his fist, the mention of blood magic tickling his religious side. "No need to be quite so pessimistic. A good-old glamor would do the trick. We could disqualify the girl for cheating if we find out how she's doing it. A glamor of such magnitude threatens the integrity of the pageant."

I rap my fingers on the back of the frozen armchair. The piece of furniture is now entombed in ice, and if we tried to melt it down, the chair would simply crumble to pieces. It's ruined. Like everything else I touch.

I force my jaw to relax and inhale deeply. "Who cares if the brides are all given a fair shot? The winner is going to die, anyway."

Sara hooks a finger around her necklace. "I'll take care of it, Elio. Just be patient." A sad, lopsided smile glazes her lips. "I've got you, always."

It's probably a bad idea to dismiss my two most trusted advisors, so I give her a nod. "Deal with it, Sara."

I veer toward the stairwell heading up to the towers, but the wind picks up, and a flurry of snowflakes curls around my neck.

"An ice storm is coming." Sara shoots me a guarded look. Byron is perched on her shoulder, holding to her collar with both hands not to be blown away by the wind. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Flumes of white clouds swell in the sky, and I walk closer to the windows. Shattered glass crunches under my shoes. "I think I am."

The current of wild magic from earlier tapered down. Did my tantrum summon this blizzard? I sure destroyed my study, but I didn't think it went farther than that. My magic hasn't caused a destructive storm in decades.

I'm the Winter King, but ice listens to no one. The glacier that spreads the length of my kingdom is as much in control of me as I am of it. I'm merely the tip of the iceberg—a physical manifestation of its power in Faerie.

Towers of white clouds roll in over my castle, and I squint at the phenomenon. The barometric pressure slides quickly, and the inch of snow garnishing the branches of the Hawthorn is swept away by the arctic winds.

"Byron, get the guards to board out these windows," I order.

The Faeling flies off his mistress' shoulder and zooms out of the room.

I hurry back to the ballroom where Seth is flirting with a Winter bride.

She's laughing at one of his jokes, but her breath catches as she spots me, and she curtsies. "My king. It's such an honor?—"

"Leave us." I give her the stink eye for her to shoo.

No matter how many girls Seth plows through, a new one is always standing in line to fawn over his basic lust magic. I rub down the space between my brows, a huge migraine suddenly playing peek-a-boo with my vision.

Seth gives a dramatic sigh. "Why did you interrupt us? She was lovely."

I grip the prince's collar and haul him to my study and away from the prying eyes of the brides and cameras. "Look here, dandelion fluff. If you're responsible for this weather?—"

A wild gust of wind howls inside the room and sweeps the last few precarious, broken window shards along with it.

Seth grimaces at the incoming storm. "It's not mine. I have no idea where it's coming from," he answers quickly, not playing with words the way he usually does.

I hate the guy, but he's Fae through and through. He couldn't lie about this if his life depended on it.

I release my hold on him and turn back to Paul and Sara. "Stop the broadcast and get the brides safely to their dorms. Ring the bells. I need everyone to stay inside tonight." My brows furrow as I surveil the clouds again. "Something's coming."