Aria's POV
They don't even let me sleep.
The exile chamber is freezing and dark. I sit on the stone floor, hugging my knees, trying to understand how my life fell apart in one night. Every time I close my eyes, I see Damien kissing Vivienne. Hear the crowd cheering. Feel the guards' hands bruising my arms.
The door opens before dawn. Gray light spills in.
"Get up," a guard barks. "Time to go."
My whole body aches as I stand. I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon. Haven't had water. My throat is so dry it hurts to swallow.
They march me through the palace—not the beautiful main halls where the party was, but the servants' corridors. The dirty, hidden paths where people like me belong. We pass the kitchen where I used to work. The storage rooms where I hid when Vivienne was being cruel. The small closet that used to be my bedroom before Father died and Celeste moved me to the attic.
Every step takes me further from the only home I've ever known.
We exit through the back gate—the trash gate, where they throw away garbage. How perfect.
Outside, a crowd has gathered. Of course they have. Everyone loves a good exile. It's better than theater.
Stepmother Celeste stands at the front, wearing black like she's mourning. Beside her, Vivienne clings to Damien's arm. She's wearing a diamond ring—my ring. The one that was supposed to be mine.
"Aria Thornwell," Celeste announces loudly. "You have been found guilty of terrible crimes against the Summer Court. As an act of mercy, your life is spared. However, you are hereby stripped of all titles, all possessions, and all claim to the Thornwell name."
Mercy. She calls this mercy.
"You will be escorted to the border and released into Frostveil territory," Celeste continues. "May you find peace in the frozen lands."
Peace. She means death.
One of the guards steps forward with a knife. For a terrifying second, I think he's going to kill me right here. Instead, he grabs my left hand and cuts across my palm. I cry out as blood wells up.
"The blood oath," he says flatly. "You are marked as exiled. If you ever return to Summer Court lands, you will be executed on sight."
He presses my bleeding hand against a white stone that immediately turns black. The mark of exile. Permanent. Magical. Impossible to fake or hide.
My hand throbs with pain, but I won't give them the satisfaction of crying. Not anymore.
"Wait." Vivienne steps forward, her voice sugary sweet. "Sister, you can't go to Frostveil in that ruined dress. Let me help you."
She's holding a bundle of cloth. For one stupid second, I think maybe she feels guilty. Maybe she's giving me warm clothes for the journey.
She throws the bundle at my feet. It's a servant's uniform. Old, patched, too small.
"After all," Vivienne says loudly enough for everyone to hear, "you should wear what matches your real worth."
The crowd laughs. My face burns with shame.
"Change," a guard orders. "Now."
They make me strip right there in front of everyone. I turn my back, trying to keep some dignity as I pull off the pink party dress and put on the rough servant's clothes. They're too tight and they smell like old food. The fabric scratches my skin.
When I turn back around, Vivienne is holding the pink dress. She rips it in half with one sharp motion.
"Oops," she says, smiling. "How clumsy of me."
Something inside me snaps. I lunge at her, but the guards catch me before I take two steps. They twist my arms behind my back until I scream.
"Still violent, I see," Damien says coldly. "You made the right choice, Lord Chancellor. She's dangerous."
I stop fighting. There's no point. They've already won.
"Take her to the border," Celeste orders. "And make sure she actually leaves."
Four guards march me out of the city. We walk for hours. The sun rises, but it doesn't make me feel any warmer. People stare from their windows as we pass. Some look sad. Most look satisfied.
At the city gates, the guards finally release me. Beyond the gates is wilderness—forests and hills stretching toward distant mountains. Those mountains are white with snow even though it's supposed to be summer. That's Frostveil. The cursed land where spring died thirteen years ago.
"Walk straight that direction," one guard says, pointing toward the mountains. "Don't try to run sideways or double back. We'll be watching for three days. If you don't reach Frostveil territory by then, we have orders to shoot you with arrows."
"But that's three days with no food," I whisper. "No water."
"Not our problem." He shrugs. "Maybe you should have thought about that before poisoning the Queen."
"I didn't—" I start, but they're already walking away.
I stand at the border alone, staring at the impossible distance I have to cross. Three days of walking through wilderness with nothing. Then an unknown frozen wasteland where nothing survives.
They really do want me dead.
My legs shake. My hand throbs where they cut it. My stomach cramps with hunger. I'm so tired I can barely think straight.
I could just lie down right here. Close my eyes. Let it be over.
But then I think about Vivienne's smile. Damien's cold eyes. Celeste taking everything my father built and calling it hers. They want me to die quietly. Conveniently. They want me to disappear so they can forget I ever existed.
No.
I start walking.
The first hour is the hardest. Every step hurts. The servant's shoes are too small and they rub blisters on my feet. The sun beats down on my head. I'm so thirsty my lips crack and bleed.
But I keep walking.
By afternoon, I find a stream. I drink until my stomach hurts, then keep going. I find some berries—bitter and hard, but food is food. I stuff them in my pockets for later.
As the sun sets, my feet are bleeding. My legs cramp. My whole body screams at me to stop. I collapse under a big tree, gasping for air.
I can't do this. Three days of walking? I'll die before I make it to Frostveil.
Maybe that's better anyway. At least it will be fast.
I close my eyes and let the tears finally come. I cry for my father who's gone. For the life I thought I'd have. For being so stupid to believe Damien loved me. For trusting Vivienne when she acted like a sister.
"I'm sorry, Papa," I whisper to the darkening sky. "I tried to be strong like you wanted. But I can't do this alone."
The wind picks up, rustling the leaves above me. For a crazy moment, it almost sounds like my father's voice: "You're stronger than you know, little flower. Keep growing toward the light."
I open my eyes. Stars are appearing in the purple sky. In the distance, the white mountains glow in the fading light. They look impossibly far away.
But something weird happens. I feel warmth in my chest—not from outside, but from inside. Like a tiny flame that refuses to go out no matter how much darkness surrounds it.
Vivienne said I'm worthless because I have no magic. Damien said I'm nothing without power. Celeste erased me from the family like I never existed.
But they're wrong.
I pull myself to my feet, ignoring the pain. My bleeding hand throbs, but I clench it into a fist.
"I'm not dying today," I say out loud to the empty forest. "Not tomorrow. Not until I've survived long enough to prove every single one of you wrong."
I take one step toward the mountains. Then another. Then another.
Behind me, I hear something crack. Like a branch breaking. I spin around, heart racing.
Eyes gleam in the darkness between the trees. Multiple pairs of eyes. Watching me.
A low growl rumbles through the night.
Wolves.
And they're moving closer.