Princess Caroline refused to shed another tear.
She sat stiff-backed on the velvet-cushioned chair near her chamber window, watching as her servants worked in a flurry of motion. Gowns of sapphire and silver were folded into trunks, furs wrapped in silk, jewels carefully stored in lacquered chests. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and frost-lilies, an odd contrast to the heavy silence that had settled over the room.
She was leaving.
By dawn, she would no longer be a princess of the Winter Court. She would be a bride to the Summer King.
Caroline clenched her fists in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. She would not weep. Not in front of them.
A sharp knock interrupted the rustling movements. The servants stilled, casting uncertain glances toward the door.
"Enter," Caroline called, her voice steady.
The door swung open, and in stepped her father, King Aldric.
His presence commanded instant silence. His heavy fur-lined cloak trailed behind him, his ice-blue eyes scanning the room with practiced precision. Behind him stood Lord Gregor, the captain of the royal guard, along with a handful of knights—men dressed in simple traveling cloaks, but Caroline knew better. They were armored beneath.
Her father's paranoia knew no bounds.
"Leave us," Aldric ordered.
The servants bowed quickly and rushed from the room, leaving only Caroline, her father, and the guards.
For a long moment, he said nothing. He simply observed her, as if trying to commit her to memory before sending her away. Or perhaps he was assessing whether she would make a fool of herself before she left his sight forever.
Finally, he spoke. "Your escort is prepared."
Caroline let out a slow breath. "And my maidservants?"
"They will accompany you."
A small victory, though it did nothing to ease the knot in her stomach.
Aldric turned to Lord Gregor. "You will lead the escort personally."
Gregor nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Caroline studied the grizzled commander. He was a man of few words, his loyalty to the crown absolute. If anyone could get her safely to the Summerlands, it was him.
Her father's gaze flickered back to her. "You will travel under heavy guard, but it must not appear so."
Caroline raised a brow. "You fear an ambush?"
Aldric's jaw tightened. "Not all nobles support this union—within our borders or beyond them. There are those who would rather see you dead than wed to the Summer King."
Her pulse quickened. "You think they would go that far?"
"I know they would," he said bluntly.
Caroline swallowed hard. She had expected resentment from some, perhaps whispers of protest, but an attempt on her life?
Aldric turned back to Gregor. "Ensure the men remain disguised. No crests, no banners. They are to be cloaked as merchants, travelers, anyone who will not draw suspicion."
Gregor nodded. "Understood, Your Majesty."
"If you are attacked," Aldric continued, his voice turning sharp, "there will be no hesitation. Kill every last one."
Caroline flinched. Her father spoke of death so easily. So coldly.
"And if I refuse to go?" she challenged, lifting her chin.
Aldric's gaze darkened. "Then I will have you bound and placed in that carriage myself."
The air between them cracked like ice breaking upon a frozen lake.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Caroline smiled, slow and bitter. "How fatherly of you."
A muscle in Aldric's jaw twitched. "You are my daughter. But you are also my pawn in this game, whether you wish to be or not."
The words struck like a blade to the chest.
He had never hidden his views on duty, on sacrifice, on what it meant to be royal—but hearing it aloud, with such finality, made her stomach turn.
Caroline exhaled through her nose, forcing herself to remain composed. If he wished for her to break, to beg, to plead—he would not get it.
Instead, she stood.
"I will go," she said, her voice steady. "Not for you. Not for your kingdom." Her eyes locked onto his. "But because I refuse to let you see me caged like a frightened girl."
For the first time, something flickered in Aldric's gaze. Surprise? Respect? It was gone before she could decipher it.
He gave a small nod, then turned toward Gregor. "Ensure she arrives safely."
"I will."
Without another word, her father strode toward the door. But before he stepped out, he paused. Without looking at her, he said, "Your mother would have been proud of you."
And then he was gone.
Caroline stood motionless, her heart hammering.
She did not know if her father spoke the truth.
But she chose to believe it.
Even if it was a lie, it was a comforting one.
She turned back to the window, staring at the falling snow.
By this time tomorrow, she would be gone.