Elara's POV
The voice in the ice went silent the moment guards burst through the door.
"She's awake!" one shouted, staring at the glowing carvings on the walls. "Get her out now!"
They grabbed me roughly, but I barely noticed. My mind was still spinning from what I'd heard. I've been waiting for you. What did that mean? What was inside the black ice?
"Move!" A guard shoved me forward.
They dragged me up stairs and through corridors I'd walked a thousand times. But everything looked different now—colder, darker, wrong. We passed servants who'd known me since I was a child. They turned away like I was already dead.
The guards threw open the doors to the Council Chamber.
Inside, the entire Royal Council sat in a half-circle, their faces hard as stone. Varius stood at the center, looking like a spider in the middle of its web. And in the front row, still wearing her fancy dress from yesterday, sat Morgana.
She wouldn't look at me.
"Bring the accused forward," Varius announced.
The guards forced me to my knees in the center of the room. My torn coronation dress pooled around me like a puddle of shame. I tried to stand, but they pushed me back down.
"You will remain kneeling," Varius said coldly. "You have lost the right to stand before this Council."
Rage burned in my chest, but I swallowed it. I needed to stay calm. I needed to make them listen.
"Princess Elara Winterborne," Varius began, his voice echoing off the walls. "You stand accused of practicing forbidden ice magic, studying dark rituals, and bringing a curse upon this kingdom. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Everything you showed yesterday was planted. I never—"
"We have witnesses," Varius interrupted. He gestured to a woman I'd never seen before. "Speak."
The woman stood, trembling. "I... I saw her, my lords. Three nights ago, in the old tower. She was drawing symbols on the floor with ice, chanting in a strange language."
"That's a lie!" I shouted. "I've never been to the old tower! I was in the library three nights ago—ask the servants!"
"The servants have been questioned," Varius said smoothly. "None remember seeing you in the library that night."
Because he'd threatened them. I could see it in his eyes—the satisfaction of a plan working perfectly.
Another witness stood. Then another. Each one claimed they'd seen me performing dark magic, studying forbidden books, speaking to shadows in the night. The lies piled up like stones, burying me alive.
"These are all false!" I said desperately, looking at the Council members. "Lord Marcus, you've known me since I was five years old. Lady Helena, you taught me to read! Do you really believe I would bring a curse on our people?"
Lord Marcus shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. Lady Helena stared at her hands.
Only one person met my eyes—Captain Lysander, standing against the back wall with the other guards. His jaw was clenched tight, and I saw his hand touch the sword at his hip. But he didn't move. He couldn't. Not against the entire Council.
"We have one final witness," Varius said. "Someone who knows the accused better than anyone."
No. Please, no.
"Princess Morgana, approach."
My sister stood slowly, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. She walked to the center of the room, still refusing to look at me.
"Morgana," I whispered. "Please. Tell them the truth."
She flinched like I'd slapped her.
"Princess Morgana," Varius said gently. "This must be difficult for you. But the kingdom needs to know—did you find evidence of dark magic in your sister's chambers?"
Morgana's voice was barely a whisper. "Yes."
"And had you noticed any strange behavior from her before this?"
"She... she started acting different after Father died," Morgana said, tears streaming down her face now. "Spending hours alone, muttering to herself, asking strange questions about our family history. I thought she was just grieving, but now..."
"Now you understand she was planning this all along," Varius finished smoothly.
"That's not true!" I lunged forward, but the guards yanked me back. "Morgana, look at me! You know me! You know I would never hurt our kingdom!"
Finally, she turned. Our eyes met.
For just a second, I saw something in her face—guilt, fear, and something else. Something that looked almost like regret.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I saw what you can do. The ice. The magic. You're dangerous, Elara. You have to be stopped."
The words hit me harder than any physical blow.
"The Council will now vote," Varius announced. "All in favor of exile to the Frost Wastes?"
Hands rose around the chamber. One by one, people I'd trusted, people I'd served, people who were supposed to protect me—they all condemned me.
"All opposed?"
Not a single hand moved.
"Then it is decided," Varius said. "Princess Elara Winterborne is hereby stripped of her title, her lands, and her rights. At dawn tomorrow, she will be cast into the Frost Wastes to live or die as fate decides."
The Frost Wastes. Where the temperature never rose above freezing. Where ice monsters hunted anything with a heartbeat. Where exiles went to die slowly and alone.
"No," I breathed. "You can't—"
"Take her away," Varius ordered.
As the guards dragged me toward the door, I twisted back to look at Morgana one last time.
She was staring at Varius with an expression that made my blood run cold. It wasn't grief or righteousness.
It was fear.
Pure, absolute terror.
And in that moment, I understood. Morgana wasn't my enemy.
She was his prisoner too.
The guards pulled me into the hallway, and I heard Varius's voice drift after me: "Prepare the exile cart. And someone fetch the princess her... traveling clothes."
The way he said it made my skin crawl.
What weren't they telling me?