The dungeons beneath the Summer Palace were as cold as the Winter Court's longest night. The stone walls were damp, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat. Caroline had never stepped foot in a place like this before. A place where justice and cruelty blurred into one.
Casimir led the way, his stride unhurried, his presence commanding. The guards bowed as he passed, their eyes flicking toward Caroline with uncertainty. She was their queen now.
The captured rebel was bound to a chair in the center of the chamber. His dark tunic was torn, streaked with blood from a gash on his temple. He lifted his head as they entered, his swollen lip curling in disdain.
"You've already lost," the man spat, his voice hoarse. "This kingdom will burn."
Casimir stepped forward, pulling a dagger from his belt and twirling it lazily between his fingers. "And you think you'll live to see it?"
The rebel only grinned, his teeth stained with blood.
Caroline's pulse pounded. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She had been raised in a court of deception and whispered threats, but here—here was where true power was wielded.
Casimir crouched before the man, tilting his head. "Tell me, who sent you?"
Silence.
Casimir sighed. "I have little patience tonight." He drove the dagger into the rebel's thigh.
The man choked on a scream.
Caroline forced herself not to flinch. This is necessary.
"I can make this last for hours," Casimir said conversationally. "Or you can be useful."
The rebel let out a ragged breath, his body shaking. Then he turned his bloodshot eyes on Caroline.
"Queen of Winter," he sneered. "You should have stayed in your icy palace. Do you think he will spare you when this is over?"
Caroline's breath caught.
Casimir's expression darkened. And in an instant, his dagger was pressed against the rebel's throat.
"I should slit you open for speaking to her," he murmured.
The man only grinned wider. "You think you can fight fate? You think you can keep her?" He laughed, spitting blood onto the stone floor. "The rebellion does not just want her dead, Your Majesty. We want her destroyed. We want her forgotten."
Caroline's stomach twisted. Not just a threat. A promise.
Casimir's fingers flexed around the hilt of his dagger. His fury was palpable. But then—he turned to her.
"What do you think, wife?" His voice was soft, but deadly. "How should we deal with our guest?"
The room seemed to tilt. Caroline could feel every gaze on her, waiting.
This was a test.
If she hesitated, she would be seen as weak. If she ordered death too quickly, she would be seen as reckless.
She inhaled slowly, schooling her expression. "He wants me afraid."
Casimir raised a brow.
Caroline stepped forward, her silken skirts whispering against the stone. She met the rebel's gaze, tilting her head. "Tell me," she said, her voice steady. "What's worse—death? Or watching your cause crumble before your eyes?"
The man's smirk faltered.
Caroline turned to Casimir. "Keep him alive," she said. "For now."
Casimir studied her, then smiled. It was sharp. Pleased.
"As you command, my queen."
And just like that—she had claimed her place beside him.
But deep in her bones, she knew: this was only the beginning of something much more sinister.