Caelan's POV
The cracking sound echoes through the palace.
I'm running before I realize I've moved, my boots pounding against ice floors that have been silent for thirteen years. Silas is right behind me, his armor clanking.
"What was that?" he shouts.
"I don't know!"
We burst into the main courtyard and freeze. The fountain—the one that's been a solid block of ice since the day I was cursed—has a crack running straight through its center. Water is dripping. Actually dripping.
"My lord," Silas breathes. "Is this—"
"Don't say it." I can't let myself hope. Hope is dangerous. Hope leads to pain. "It's probably nothing. A temperature shift. A fluke."
But even as I say it, I know I'm lying. There are no temperature shifts in Frostveil. There are no flukes. There's only endless cold and ice and death.
Until tonight. Until her.
"The girl," Silas says, voicing what we're both thinking. "She did this?"
I stare at the cracking fountain, my mind racing. For thirteen years, I've studied every text on curses. Tried every ritual. Consulted with every magical expert who was brave enough to enter my cursed kingdom. Nothing worked. Nothing even came close.
And now a half-dead exile from the Summer Court shows up and ice starts melting.
"Watch her," I order Silas. "Make sure she doesn't leave that room. If she tries anything suspicious—"
"You don't actually think she's dangerous, do you?" Silas looks at me like I've lost my mind. "My lord, she could barely speak. She's half-starved and covered in frostbite wounds."
"She's also doing something impossible." I turn away from the fountain before I can stare at it any longer. "Until we understand what, she's a threat."
But as I walk back toward her room, I wonder who I'm really trying to protect. My kingdom? Or myself from another crushing disappointment?
I pause outside her door. Inside, I hear nothing. Is she asleep? Awake? Planning something?
You're being paranoid, I tell myself. She's just a girl. A strange, warm, impossible girl who makes ice melt and whose hands glow with golden light.
I push open the door.
She's sitting up in bed, staring at her hands with a look of pure confusion. The glow I saw earlier is gone now, but the puddles around her bed have grown. There's actual water pooling on my floor.
"Did you hear that sound?" she asks without looking up. "The cracking?"
"Yes." I close the door behind me, keeping my distance again. "That was the fountain in the courtyard. It's been frozen solid for thirteen years. Until now."
Her eyes widen. "Did I... did I do that?"
"I don't know. Did you?"
"I don't know how!" She looks terrified. "I don't understand any of this. My hands were glowing, and now the ice is cracking, and you said I create warmth but I've never done anything like this before—"
"Breathe," I interrupt. She's talking so fast she's turning red. "Just breathe."
She takes a shaky breath, then another. When she looks at me again, there are tears in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "If I'm breaking something, if I'm making things worse, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Stop apologizing." I move closer without thinking, then catch myself. "For thirteen years, nothing has changed in this kingdom except getting colder. If you're breaking the ice, that's not making things worse. That's... that's..."
I can't finish the sentence. I can't say the word hope out loud. It feels too dangerous.
"Can you tell me what happened?" I ask instead. "In the Summer Court. Why they exiled you."
Her face closes off immediately. "I don't want to talk about it."
"I need to understand—"
"They betrayed me!" The words burst out of her like she's been holding them back too long. "My fiancé, my stepsister, my stepmother—they all planned it together. They framed me for poisoning the Queen, stripped me of everything, and sent me here to die. And everyone believed them because I'm useless. Because I don't have magic like a real healer should."
The bitterness in her voice is like acid. I recognize it. I've felt it myself.
"What kind of healer were you?" I ask quietly.
"The worthless kind." She laughs, but it sounds more like crying. "I couldn't make light shoot from my hands or heal wounds instantly like my family. I could just... make people feel better. Ease pain. Help them stay calm. Make plants grow a little faster." She wipes her eyes angrily. "Nothing impressive. Nothing powerful. Just stupid small things that don't matter."
I stare at her. "Are you serious right now?"
She blinks at the harsh tone in my voice. "What?"
"Those are the rarest healing abilities that exist." I can't believe I'm hearing this. "Pain relief without medicine? Emotional healing? Growth magic? Do you have any idea how valuable those skills are?"
"But they're not flashy," she protests. "They're not—"
"They're real." I cut her off. "The flashy stuff? That's easy. Any halfway decent mage can learn to close a wound with light. But true healing—the kind that reaches deeper than flesh—that's a gift. A rare one."
She's staring at me like I'm speaking another language.
"Your family," I say slowly, anger building in my chest, "were idiots."
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. "You... you really think so?"
"I know so." I gesture at the melting ice around her. "You're doing something right now that thirteen years of powerful magic couldn't accomplish. You're bringing warmth to a cursed kingdom. And you're telling me you're powerless?" I shake my head. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
For a moment, she just stares at me. Then her face crumples and she starts crying.
Real crying. The kind that shakes her whole body and makes her gasp for air. The kind that comes from years of pain finally breaking free.
I stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do. I'm not good with crying people. I haven't been around people in so long.
"I'm sorry," she sobs. "I'm sorry, I just—you're the first person in so long who's said anything kind and I don't know how to—"
"It's alright." The words feel strange on my tongue. When was the last time I comforted someone? "You're safe here. You can cry."
She cries for a long time. I sit in a chair across the room, giving her space but staying close enough that she knows she's not alone. Eventually, her sobs quiet to hiccups, then to silence.
"Thank you," she finally whispers. "For not thinking I'm useless."
"You're not." I mean it with every fiber of my being. "Anyone who made you believe that was trying to control you. To make you small so they could feel big."
She looks at me with those warm brown eyes, and something shifts in the air between us. Something I haven't felt in thirteen years.
Connection.
Before I can process what that means, Silas bursts through the door without knocking.
"My lord!" He's breathing hard. "You need to come now. It's Princess Lyanna."
My heart stops. "What about her?"
"She's waking up."
The world tilts. My sister has been in a cursed sleep for thirteen years. Nothing we've tried has woken her. Not magic, not medicine, not desperate prayers to gods who stopped listening long ago.
"That's impossible," I whisper.
"Her fingers moved," Silas insists. "And there's color in her cheeks. Real color. The healer thinks—" He glances at Aria. "He thinks it started when the girl arrived."
I look at Aria. She's staring at us with wide, frightened eyes.
"I didn't do anything," she says quickly. "I swear, I haven't left this room—"
"I know." And somehow, I do know. She's not trying to wake my sister. She's not trying to break the curse. She's just existing, radiating warmth and life and hope without even realizing it.
Which makes her either the most dangerous thing that's ever entered my palace, or the most precious.
I stand. "Stay here. Don't leave this room. Silas will post guards outside your door."
"Why?" She looks terrified now. "Am I a prisoner?"
"You're a guest," I correct. "But until I understand what you're doing to my kingdom, you need to stay put. For everyone's safety."
Including yours, I don't add. Because if you really are breaking this curse, and someone finds out, they'll either worship you or kill you.
And I'm not sure which would be worse.
I leave her there, following Silas through the corridors to my sister's chambers. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it.
Please, I think. Please let this be real. Please let Lyanna wake up. Please let this not be another cruel trick of the curse.
We reach the doors. I push them open.
Lyanna is sitting up in bed.
Her eyes are open.
And she's looking right at me.