Chapter 21
SERAPHINA
The Northern Kingdom is exactly as cold as I remember.
I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders as the carriage winds through mountain passes lined with snow-covered pines. Azriel sits pressed against my side, his small face glued to the window as he takes in his first real view of winter.
“Mama, look!” He points at a frozen waterfall cascading down the cliff face. “It’s like glass!”
“I see it, sweetheart.” I smooth his hair, trying to keep my voice steady even though my heart is racing.
We’ve been traveling for three days—three days of Kieran maintaining careful distance, riding with his guards while Azriel and I stay in the carriage with Commander Thane as our escort. He checks on us at night, asks if we need anything, then disappears again before I can say more than a few words.
“Is that it?” Azriel’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Is that the castle?”
I lean forward to look, and my stomach drops.
Winterhold rises from the mountainside like something carved from ice itself. Dark stone towers pierce the gray sky, and massive walls surround the fortress. Snow blankets everything, making the whole structure gleam coldly in the weak afternoon light.
It hasn’t changed. And it’s going to be our prison.
“That’s it,” I say quietly.
“It’s huge!” Azriel bounces in his seat, all childish excitement. “Do you think there are secret passages? Every castle has secret passages.”
“I don’t know, baby.”
The carriage slows as we approach the main gates. I catch sight of Kieran ahead, sitting tall in his saddle as he signals the guards. The gates swing open, revealing a massive courtyard filled with people.
My chest tightens. They’re all here to see us.
“Mama?” Azriel looks up at me, sensing my tension. “Are you scared?”
“A little.” I won’t lie to him. Not anymore. “But we’ll be okay. I promise.”
The carriage rolls to a stop, and I hear Kieran dismount. Footsteps crunch through snow, and then the door opens.
He stands there in dark blue traveling leathers, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since we left the Eastern Kingdom. The bond flares hot and insistent, and I see him flinch slightly before his expression goes blank.
“We’re here.” His voice is carefully neutral.
“I can see that.” I lift Azriel down from the carriage, keeping my hand on his shoulder as we step into the cold. The crowd in the courtyard has gone silent, all eyes on us.
I force my spine straight, lifting my chin the way Mother taught me. I may be a prisoner here, but I’m still a princess.
Kieran gestures toward a group of servants waiting near the entrance. “They’ll show you to your quarters.”
“Our quarters?” I repeat.
“Yours and Azriel’s.” Something flickers in his expression. “You’ll have rooms in the family wing. Befitting your status as the mother of my heir.”
The way he says it makes it clear he’s not doing this for me. This is about Azriel.
“Come, sweetheart.” I take Azriel’s hand and start toward the entrance, acutely aware of every eye following us.
A woman steps forward from the group of servants. She’s older, maybe fifty, with gray hair pulled back severely and sharp eyes that take in everything. “Princess Seraphina. I am Helga, head of the household staff. If you’ll follow me?”
Her tone is polite but cold. I nod, and we follow her into the fortress.
The interior is as imposing as the exterior. High ceilings, stone walls, minimal decoration. Everything is practical, functional, beautiful in its austerity but completely lacking warmth—just as I remember.
“The family wing is this way.” Helga leads us up a massive staircase and down a long corridor. “King Kieran’s chambers are in the eastern tower. Yours are in the southern wing.”
Far apart. Of course.
She stops at a set of double doors and pushes them open. “Your chambers, Princess.”
The room beyond is larger than I expected. A sitting area with a fireplace, windows overlooking the mountains, doors leading to what must be bedrooms and a bathing chamber. It’s furnished richly but simply—no unnecessary luxury, just quality.
“The smaller bedroom connects to yours,” Helga continues. “For the young lord.”
“His name is Azriel,” I say firmly.
“Of course. For Lord Azriel.” She doesn’t smile. “Your trunks will arrive shortly. Dinner is served in the great hall at sunset. You’re expected to attend.”
“What if I’d rather eat in my rooms?”
“You’re expected to attend,” she repeats, and there’s steel under the politeness. “King Kieran wishes you to meet the court.”
Of course he does. Put me on display so everyone can see what the Ice King dragged home.
“Fine.” I move further into the room, pulling Azriel with me. “Is there anything else?”
“A lady’s maid will be assigned to you tomorrow. Until then, I’ve left bell pulls in each room. Ring if you need anything.” She pauses at the door. “Welcome to Winterhold, Princess.”
The door closes behind her with a soft click that sounds like a cell locking.
Azriel immediately runs to the windows, pressing his face against the glass. “Mama, I can see everything from here! The whole courtyard and the mountains and—”
“Azriel.” I cross to him, kneeling so we’re eye level. “I need you to listen to me very carefully.”
His excitement dims. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re in King Kieran’s home now. His kingdom. And not everyone here is going to be happy we’re here.” I cup his face gently. “So I need you to be careful. Don’t wander off alone. Don’t talk to strangers unless I’m with you. And if anyone is ever unkind to you, you come tell me immediately. Understand?”
“Because Papa’s people don’t like us?”
The word ‘Papa’ hits me like a punch. He’s already calling Kieran that, already accepting this man as his father after knowing him for three days.
“Some of them don’t,” I say carefully. “But that’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”
“Is it yours?”
The question is so innocent, so honest, that tears prick my eyes. “I don’t know, sweetheart. Maybe.”
He throws his arms around my neck. “I don’t care what they think. You’re the best mama.”
I hold him tight, breathing in his familiar scent. At least I still have this. At least they can’t take him from me completely.
A knock at the door makes us both pull apart. I wipe my eyes quickly before calling, “Come in.”
A young servant enters, struggling with one of our trunks. More servants follow with the rest of our belongings, and soon the sitting room is filled with boxes and bags containing our entire lives.
“Is there anything else you need, my lady?” the young servant asks nervously.
“No, thank you.”
They file out, and I’m left staring at the trunks. Everything I own, reduced to a few boxes in a strange castle far from home.
“Can I explore my room?” Azriel asks.
“Stay where I can see you.”
He scampers through the connecting door, and I hear his delighted gasp. “Mama, there’s a bed big enough for three people! And toys! Someone left toys!”
I follow him into the smaller bedroom and find he’s right. The room is clearly designed for a child—scaled-down furniture, shelves at the right height, and a chest full of wooden toys and books.
Kieran’s doing. It has to be.
Something in my chest twists. He thought about making Azriel comfortable. Actually considered what a five-year-old might need in a strange place.
“These are mine?” Azriel holds up a wooden horse.
“I think so.”
“This is the best room ever!” He throws himself onto the bed, and I can’t help but smile despite everything. At least one of us is happy here.
Sunset comes too quickly.
I dress in one of the formal gowns Mother packed—deep burgundy with long sleeves and a high neckline. Conservative enough for a Northern court but rich enough to show I’m still royalty, even if I’m forced here.
Azriel looks adorable in a small tunic and trousers, his dark hair combed back from his face. He keeps tugging at the collar.
“It itches.”
“I know, baby. But you need to look nice for dinner.”
“Why? It’s just food.”
“Because we’re meeting your father’s court. And first impressions matter.”
A knock at the door makes my stomach drop. I open it to find Commander Thane waiting, dressed in formal attire.
“Princess. The King sent me to escort you to dinner.”
“We’re ready.” I take Azriel’s hand, and we follow Thane through corridors that all look the same—stone walls, minimal decoration, cold efficiency.
The great hall is already full when we arrive. Long tables fill the space, and nobles in formal dress occupy every seat. Conversations die as we enter, all eyes turning to stare.
I force myself to keep walking, head high, while Luna bristles defensively in my mind.
At the head of the room sits Kieran at a raised table. He’s changed into formal robes—midnight blue with the Northern crest embroidered on his chest. His eyes track our progress across the hall, expression unreadable.
Thane leads us to seats at the high table, just to Kieran’s right. Close enough to show we’re important but not beside him. The message is clear—we’re here because of Azriel, not me.
I help Azriel into his chair before taking my own. The nobles closest to us murmur among themselves, not bothering to hide their stares.
“Ignore them,” I whisper to Azriel.
“They’re being rude,” he whispers back.
“I know. But we’re going to be polite anyway.”
Kieran stands, and the hall falls silent. “Tonight we welcome Princess Seraphina of the Eastern Kingdom and my son, Azriel, to Winterhold.” His voice carries easily through the space. “They will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. I expect you all to treat them with the respect due to their positions.”
The way he says it makes it clear this isn’t a request.
He sits back down, and the conversation slowly resumes. Servants begin bringing out food—roasted meats, winter vegetables, and hearty bread. It smells delicious, but my stomach is too knotted to eat.
Azriel digs in enthusiastically, completely unfazed by the hostile atmosphere.
“He adapts quickly,” Kieran says quietly beside me, the first thing he’s said directly to me since we arrived.
“He’s five. Everything is an adventure.” I don’t look at him, focusing instead on cutting Azriel’s meat.
“You picked the southern wing chambers.”
“I didn’t pick anything. Your staff assigned them.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “I told them to offer you a choice.”
“Well, they didn’t.” I keep my voice level. “Helga showed me to the southern wing and said those were my chambers. No other options mentioned.”
Something flickers across his face—surprise, then anger, but not directed at me. His jaw tightens. “I see.”
“Does it matter?” I cut another piece of meat, not looking at him. “You got what you wanted. We’re here. Azriel is here. Where I sleep is irrelevant.”
“It’s not irrelevant.” His voice drops lower. “But we’ll discuss it later.”
The conversation dies, and we eat in tense silence while the court watches our every move.
A man approaches the high table during the second course, moving with the kind of confidence that commands attention. He’s tall and aristocratic with golden hair and amber eyes that sweep over me with open appreciation.
“Your Majesty.” He bows to Kieran, but his eyes stay on me. “I couldn’t wait any longer to meet your guests.”
“Lord Cassius.” Kieran’s voice is carefully neutral. “Princess Seraphina and Lord Azriel, may I present Lord Cassius Blackwood, one of my senior advisors.”
Before I can respond, Cassius reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips. The kiss lingers a moment too long, his warm breath against my skin.
“Princess.” His voice is smooth. “The North has never seen such beauty grace these halls.”
Heat floods my cheeks. After the cold reception from Helga and the hostile stares all evening, the compliment catches me completely off guard.
Beside me, Kieran goes very still.
“You’re too kind, Lord Cassius.” I try to pull my hand back, but he holds it gently.
“Not kind. Honest.” His thumb brushes across my knuckles. “I hope Winterhold is treating you well? If not, I’d be happy to show you the more… welcoming parts of the fortress.”
The offer hangs in the air.
“Lord Cassius.” Kieran breaks the silence. “I’m sure the Princess is tired from her journey. Perhaps your… hospitality can wait.”
“Of course.” Cassius finally releases my hand, but his eyes stay locked on mine. “Though I must say, if I’d known such a captivating woman was arriving, I would have ensured a proper welcome. The court can be rather cold to outsiders.”
He leans closer, and I catch his scent—something expensive and warm, nothing like the pine and snow that is Kieran. “If you ever need a friend here, Princess, someone who understands what it’s like to navigate these halls, you need only ask.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I manage.
Cassius shifts his attention to Azriel, crouching to his level. “And you must be Azriel. I hear you’re quite the architect.”
Azriel’s eyes light up. “Do you like building things?”
“I do, actually. Perhaps I could show you the fortress blueprints sometime? They’re quite fascinating.”
“Really?” Azriel looks at me for permission.
“We’ll see,” I say carefully.
Lord Cassius straightens, still smiling. “Of course. No pressure. I simply wanted to extend my welcome. Moving to a new place can be difficult, especially for children. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“That’s very kind.” I mean it.
“Not at all.” He glances at Kieran. “With your permission, Your Majesty?”
Kieran nods, his expression unreadable. But as Cassius walks away, I catch Kieran’s eyes following him, something calculating in his gaze.
