Chapter 17
SERAPHINA
I managed to keep my composure long enough to get Azriel his promised dessert and tuck him into bed. He chattered the whole time about the “nice man” who helped him build his fortress, completely oblivious to the way my hands shook or how I kept glancing at the door.
Now, an hour later, I pace my chambers like a caged animal, my hands shaking as I press them against my stomach. Luna won’t stop whimpering in my mind, a constant stream of anxiety that makes it impossible to think straight.
“He knows,” I whisper to the empty room. “Gods, he knows.”
Elena sits on the edge of my bed, watching me wear a path in the carpet. “Maybe he won’t—”
“Won’t what? Demand answers?” I spin to face her. “You saw his face. He knows Azriel is his.”
The knock at my door makes us both freeze.
“Princess Seraphina.” A guard’s voice. “The Ice King requests your presence in the east garden. Immediately.”
My stomach drops. “Tell him—”
“He said if you refuse, he’ll come to you.” The guard’s tone suggests he’s not thrilled about delivering that threat. “His words, Your Highness.”
Elena stands. “I’ll stay with Azriel.”
I nod, too terrified to speak. My hands smooth over the burgundy dress I changed into after fleeing the children’s area, a nervous habit I can’t break. The high neckline suddenly feels like it’s choking me.
The east garden is private, tucked away from the main palace grounds. Mother comes here when she needs peace. The perfect place for a conversation no one else should hear.
Kieran stands with his back to me, staring at the fountain in the center. The moonlight catches on his silver-streaked hair, and even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders. His hands are clasped behind him, knuckles white.
“You wanted to see me.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
He doesn’t turn around. “How old did you say he was?”
“Five.”
“And when’s his birthday?”
I know where this is going. Know there’s no point in lying. “Last month.”
“Last month.” He finally turns, and the fury in his ice-blue eyes steals my breath. “Which means you were pregnant when I sent you home.”
“I didn’t know until after.” I lift my chin, refusing to cower. “Not that it would have mattered to you.”
“You kept my son from me for five years.” His voice is cold. Controlled. Deadly. “My heir.”
“Your heir?” I laugh, and it sounds bitter even to my own ears. “He’s mine. I carried him. I birthed him. I raised him while you were here living your life.”
“He carries Northern blood.” Kieran takes a step closer. “My blood. That makes him mine as much as yours.”
“He’s a child, not a possession.”
“He’s the future of the Northern Kingdom.” Each word is clipped. Precise. “And you kept him from me.”
“What did you expect me to do?” Anger flares hot in my chest. “Come crawling back to beg the man who threw me in a dungeon to acknowledge his bastard?”
His jaw clenches. “I had every right to imprison you, but this isn’t about us.”
“No. It’s about Azriel.” I step forward. “And you’re not taking him from me.”
“I’m his father!”
“You’re nothing to him.” The words come out sharp. “He doesn’t know you. Doesn’t need you. He’s happy here.”
“He’s my heir.” Kieran’s voice drops dangerously low. “Every law says I have a right to him.”
“Laws.” I shake my head. “Of course that’s all you care about. Not that he’s a child who doesn’t know you exist. Just that he’s your property by law.”
“He belongs in the Northern Kingdom.”
“He belongs with his mother.”
“Then you’ll both come north.” He says it like it’s already decided. Like I have no say in the matter.
Terror floods through me. “No.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
“I don’t care.” My hands clench into fists. “I’m not bringing my son to your kingdom.”
“I’m his fath—”
“You’re a bastard.” The word explodes from me. “A cruel, cold bastard who thinks he can take whatever he wants.”
His eyes flash. “Careful, Princess.”
“Or what? You’ll throw me back in your dungeon?” I take another step forward, fury drowning out fear. “You’ll grab me by the throat again? Threaten to have me whipped?”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being realistic.” My voice shakes. “I know exactly who you are, Kieran. I spent days as your prisoner, remember? I know how you treat people you have power over.”
“That was different—”
“It wasn’t.” I cut him off. “You’re the same man who dragged me through your castle in chains.” I see him flinch, just slightly. “And now you want me to bring my son into that? To put him under your control?”
“He’s my blood.”
“He’s my everything.” My voice breaks. “I’m not going back to your kingdom.”
Kieran stares at me for a long moment. “You don’t have a choice.”
“I do.” My voice shakes with fury. “And I’m choosing to keep him far away from you.”
His expression goes cold. Blank. “You have until the tournament ends to decide—come to Winterhold willingly, or I petition your father for custody.”
The threat hangs in the air. Father would have to consider it. A king demanding his heir? The political ramifications alone would force his hand.
“You’re a monster,” I whisper.
“Perhaps.” He turns toward the garden entrance. “But I’m a monster who just found out he has a son. Get used to it, Seraphina. Because I’m not leaving without him.”
He disappears into the shadows, leaving me alone in the garden with Luna howling in my mind.
I sink onto one of the stone benches, my whole body shaking. Not with sadness. With rage.
Five years. Five years of keeping Azriel safe from exactly this. From being used as a political pawn. From a father who sees him as property, not a person.
And now that father knows he exists.
“He won’t take our pup,” Luna snarls. “We’ll kill him first.”
“We can’t,” I reply, but the thought is tempting. “He’s too powerful.”
“Then we run.”
“Where?” I laugh bitterly. “He’s a king with armies. Where could we go that he wouldn’t find us?”
Luna doesn’t answer because we both know the truth. There is nowhere. No escape.
Kieran will take Azriel. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, he’ll find a way to claim what he sees as his.
And there’s nothing I can do to stop him.
Through the remnants of our broken bond, I feel his presence moving through the palace. That cursed pull trying to drag me toward him even as I hate every fiber of his being.
I press my hand to my chest where the bond used to be. Where it still tries to be, despite the rejection.
“I hate you,” I whisper to the darkness. “I hate you so much.”
But hate won’t protect Azriel.
And that terrifies me more than anything else.
