Mirrors of Ice Sneak Peek
Mirrors of Ice
will be releasing June 22nd on Amazon. I hope you enjoy this sneak peek!
Chapter 1
The sun was setting, the queen of Astren had just gotten married, and Princess Eirwen of Glaciar was going to die.
After the admittedly beautiful ceremony, Eirwen had spent the entire afternoon sitting at the window in her guest room, studying the pattern of the Astrian guards and trying to pinpoint the fastest and clearest route through the city.
An ombre of soft pink melting into cold blues painted the sky, but as breathtaking as the view was, she had no time to admire it. Everyone else in the castle was preparing for the ball, but Eirwen would be attending in the same outfit she had worn to the ceremony that morning.
Late summer heat pressed in on her skin. Eirwen had known Astren would be warm, but she’d never expected even Astren’s nights would be so hot. She’d had more pressing matters to research than the weather when preparing for the trip. If she’d known, she would have tried to get a dress made of lighter material, but she was stuck with the heavy black wool which was more suitable for back home.
Every other minute the urge to scratch the itch on her right wrist appeared, and she almost always gave in. She gripped the bag in her lap so tightly her already pale knuckles turned as white as ice. The familiar weight was a tiny comfort but not enough to make a dent in the suffocating sensation gripping her chest. Was it safe to leave the contents of her bag in her room? Eirwen had no idea if her aunt knew that she had it. Better safe than sorry.
She dug out a silk purse and the empty frame of a silver mirror. She tucked the purse into the pockets hidden deep within the folds of her dress, and with a significant amount of effort, she managed to maneuver the frame under her skirts and secure it against her side.
She’d been preparing for this night for so long, but now that it had arrived, she felt no more prepared to face it than she had when she’d discovered what was supposed to happen to her. Could she really do this? Was all her work enough? Was Eirwen strong enough?
A knock sounded against her door.
“Your Highness, Her Majesty is here. Are you ready?” A deep, masculine voice filtered through the door. All the air left her lungs while her heart ricocheted against her ribs.
Her questions would have answers in a matter of hours—if her heart didn’t give out before then.
Eirwen shoved the bag under her bed and lunged for the gloves on her dresser. After shoving them on over her shaking hands, she brushed her palms against her skirts.
“I’m ready,” she called out, shocking herself at how steady her voice was when she couldn’t slow her racing heart. She took a deep breath and pulled her veil over her face.
Princess Eirwen hadn’t seen another person’s face clearly for exactly five months and twenty-nine days. The black veil she wore ensured no one could see her face at all but gave her just enough vision to get by. At least she had yet to trip and make a fool of herself because of the veil and the many long, bulky layers of black skirts she wore. But to be fair, that had been in Silica where she knew every inch of the palace like the back of her hand. Fortunately, Astren’s capital, Lathe, had not proven to be too difficult to navigate.
The door opened, and she spotted Her Majesty, Queen Regent Isolde of Glaciar, Eirwen’s aunt and her late father’s second wife. The white of her dress would have been blinding if it wasn’t tempered by the black haze obscuring everything in Eirwen’s sight.
Isolde narrowed her eyes. “It’s bad enough you insisted on wearing that to the ceremony, but honestly, you must wear something more weather and occasion appropriate. I’m sure no one noticed this morning, but everyone will tonight. People will talk about your dour appearance. You are not showing Glaciar’s strength.”
One of the drawbacks of wearing the veil meant Isolde couldn’t see her glaring. If Eirwen had a coin for every time her aunt talked about Glaciar’s strength, she’d be the richest woman on the continent.
Eirwen said, “Maybe it doesn’t, but our people will hear of how we have conducted ourselves. I care more about them than what our neighbors think about my dress. The Glacian people are who I answer to, not Queen Loraine.”
“I suppose you would see things that way. It’s never been your responsibility to ensure our neighbors consider us as their equals.” Isolde crossed her arms. “Well, it’s too late to change now; let’s hope no one pays too much attention, stepdaughter. Hopefully the heat won’t be too much for you. I know you’re rather… sensitive.”
That was a pretty way to say weak.
“If I collapse from heatstroke, I’m sure my loyal bodyguard will catch me.” She glanced over her aunt’s shoulder to the man hovering behind them, staring at the floor. “Won’t you, Chasen?”
He was a little too far away and the hallway was a little too dark for her to get a clear read on him, but she didn’t need to see his face. His voice betrayed him, cracking, and even when it steadied, the undertones of anxiety still came through. “O—Of course, Your Highness.”
“See, aren’t you grateful to have a bodyguard? Who else will save you from your own stubbornness?” Isolde asked with an icy smile.
Eirwen stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind her and rolling her eyes. This was one aspect of politics she hated: the part where they all smiled, and it didn’t reach their eyes. They all knew the truth, and they all knew each other knew it. Why bother with acting like Eirwen was supposed to make it out of this night alive?
Or rather, Isolde and Chasen might be under the impression she wouldn’t, but Eirwen had other plans.
“Chasen?” Eirwen asked as Isolde started to lead the way down the hall.
“Yes, Your Highness?” He fell into step behind her. His hazel eyes stared at the ground while he clasped his hands behind his back. She couldn’t deny enjoying making him sweat a little. She would have thought her aunt would have at least hired a faux bodyguard who could handle the pressure.
“Don’t look so worried,” Eirwen said. “I promise nothing bad will happen to me. Your job will be very easy tonight.”
“Your concern for everyone around you is what makes you my favorite stepdaughter,” Isolde said with a strained smile. “Mathias would be so proud.”
Eirwen swallowed. Her stomach rolled, and she needed to stop engaging before she lost her composure. This wasn’t the time to get into it. She had to keep things from blowing up until after the ball. It was all about patience. The next move was Isolde’s, and Eirwen needed to be ready to react when she made it.
Eirwen’s heart twisted as she fisted her hands in her skirt. Water flooded her eyes, and her breathing shallowed. If she didn’t look too hard, if she didn’t listen too closely, it was almost like her father was there. She could still hear his deep laugh in the distance. She could still see his bright eyes and the smile lines deeply ingrained in his cheeks as he discussed with her the intricacies of ruling and the history that influenced their decisions and culture.
Back in Silica, she’d always half expected to see him walk by her in the hallways or sitting on his throne, but she never did. It was always just Isolde.
And that was the worst part of it all.
Maybe the grief would have been bearable otherwise. If it had simply been Eirwen picking up the pieces of her life, picking up the pieces of her country, then she could have buried the hurt with productivity.
At least she’d like to think so, but the last six months had been very different. Under Isolde, she’d nearly drowned in the depths of her grief since her aunt had taken over all her duties. The official story Isolde put out claimed it was so Eirwen would have time to grieve. Eirwen wasn’t so foolish as to believe it.
The doors to the ballroom appeared and the footmen opened them. While the herald announced her aunt, Eirwen took the opportunity to reach under her veil and wipe away her tears while no one was looking. The only one paying attention to her was Chasen, and she didn’t care if he saw her moment of weakness.
Actually, she hoped he did see. If he had a heart, maybe he’d feel some guilt, but she highly doubted that.
Eirwen stepped inside the ballroom; the herald’s voice announcing her was a distant ringing in her ear. A good number of people were already in the room, mostly the Astrian court, but she spotted a few of the Esmean delegates among the crowd. She stepped into the room after Isolde while Chasen followed behind her.
How tragically ironic. Isolde and Chasen were the two people she should have been able to trust with her life.
Isolde disappeared into the crowd, her nose turning up slightly and her smile widening as members of the Astrian court bowed at her approach. It was no secret how much Isolde thrived in these situations. However, as good as she was at charming a room, she would never be as good at it as Eirwen’s father had been.
There were times she wondered if her father had known Isolde’s character. Had he ever suspected the lengths she would go to? Why had he ever trusted her?
Eirwen supposed her father was clueless. He was too good a man; the type who loved too much. He trusted too much.
Eirwen shook her thoughts off as she moved toward the edge of the crowd, clasping her hands together to keep anyone who looked at her from noticing how they trembled. What her father had or hadn’t known wasn’t important. She had a ball to attend, and Chasen was going to try to kill her in a few hours. Eirwen didn’t plan on making it easy for him or her aunt. And even if her escape failed, at least she got to enjoy one last ball before her untimely demise.
She chose a spot along the wall, so she could look out over the whole ballroom and keep Isolde in her sights without looking like she was paying too much attention. Chasen took his place a few paces to her right, lacing his hands together behind his back.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Prince Sterling had known for a long time he would one day end up back in Lathe, celebrating a wedding between his brother, Prince Harlin of Idres, and Queen Loraine of Astren.
Well, at the time she hadn’t been queen, and it was all a little up in the air exactly how the alliance between Astren and Idres was going to shake out. But Sterling had seen it all clearly even if he didn’t know the exact details. Not that the details really mattered.
A year and a half after he first set foot in Lathe, he had returned, and the city was precisely as tedious and dull as he remembered. Only, this time things were worse. All six of his siblings were there as well. At least the first time he came it was only him and Harlin.
He didn’t begrudge his second eldest brother his happiness. The alliance was a smart move politically, and everyone could tell Harlin was besotted with Queen Loraine. But still—if Sterling wanted to be invisible, he might as well have stayed home with his eldest brother’s pregnant wife.
The herald forgot to announce his name, which annoyed him for a mere second before he realized he could use the mistake to his advantage. He could slip away from his siblings and have a blessedly peaceful night, but his third eldest brother, Aiolos, caught him before he managed it. Unfortunately, Aiolos was older, taller, and stronger than Sterling, so he’d never stood a chance at slipping away.
Aiolos’ grip sunk into his elbow, directing him to greet bland court member after bland court member. Sterling recognized a good number of faces and voices from his first visit, but there was nothing important about them or else he would know it.
Sterling tuned out the conversations. It was all inane small talk. He would pay attention if the topic ever drifted in an interesting—namely political—direction, but all anyone wanted to talk about was how beautiful the ceremony was, how this was such a great match for their countries, or how happy and in love the couple was.
After Sterling’s third attempt to vanish from his sibling’s purview, Aiolos’s grip tightened, and his smile thinned as one of the Astrian nobles walked away. Aiolos whispered, “Stop it. You’re not even attempting to be subtle anymore.”
“Why should I? You’re not trying to be subtle either, not that you’re capable of it,” Sterling said. It was not the first time he wished he was an only child or at least not the youngest of them all.
They fell silent as one of the delegates from the Esmean Empire approached them and exchanged a few words of polite small talk. Sterling waited for the delegate to drop any political information, but he was reserved.
“—good to be celebrating with our neighbors. These last few years have been hard; His Highest Imperial Majesty, Emperor Eurico, is grateful to see his neighbors’ borders stabilize and recognize their new monarchs and alliances.” The Esmean delegate’s eyes wandered the room. Sterling followed his gaze until it paused on the Queen Regent of Glaciar for a moment so brief anyone else would not have noticed.
Finally. Something at least a little bit interesting.
Aiolos continued the conversation, but Sterling focused on the faint implication of the delegate’s words. Aiolos nudged him in the side a few times, and Sterling always had an appropriately polite response as he fought the urge to roll his eyes.
His siblings were never satisfied. When he did speak, they admonished him and assigned one of them to control his words, and when he didn’t say anything, they pressured him into engaging.
They continued working around the room until Harlin ended up approaching them. Aiolos and Harlin shared so many similarities in their coloring and facial structure that people commonly thought the two of them twins, or triplets if Aiolos’ actual twin was around.
Harlin smiled as he asked, “How are you two doing? I’ve been trying to make my way around and talk to everyone, but every time I turn around, someone is offering their congratulations or wanting my attention. When I asked Besart if it was always going to be like this, he just laughed at me.”
“You’re the one who wanted to get married to a queen,” Sterling said.
Aiolos shot him a glare, but Harlin only sighed. A patient but tired expression flickered across Harlin’s face as he said, “I am, and I couldn’t be happier, but it is taking some adjustment.”
“I can only imagine. It can’t have been easy, even with our sister’s help, planning a wedding on top of finalizing the treaty negotiations. Not to mention recovering from… everything that happened,” Aiolos said, clearing his throat. No one wanted to go into detail about Queen Loraine’s not-so-tidy ascension to the throne in general and certainly not at her wedding.
Harlin glanced over his shoulder to where Queen Loraine moved through the crowd. His brown eyes warmed, and he lost the trained air of politeness he’d always hidden behind. Sterling had never seen Harlin lower his walls for anyone other than Loraine.
Harlin said, “Loraine has had her work cut out for her, but she was born for this. Seeing her come into her own has been such an experience.”
Sterling nodded, remembering his few interactions with the queen from the year before. Harlin was right, but to be fair, it wasn’t hard to be a better fit for the throne compared to her deceased older brother.
“You can be certain we’re all glad this worked out for the best. It was a little touch and go for a moment there,” Aiolos said, chuckling lightly as he glanced at Sterling.
Sterling shifted back, clenching his jaw. Everyone loved reminding him the alliance almost falling through had been his fault, but everything was his fault in their eyes.
Harlin nodded with a solemn air; his eyes brushed over Sterling as well. “That it was, but this never would have been possible a year and a half ago. Could you imagine getting this many royal egos in one room? It would have been a disaster.”
“It still might be,” Sterling said. The Esmean delegate had approached Queen Regent Isolde. Now that was a conversation he wanted to listen to. What would Emperor Eurico want from Glaciar? He kept one eye on them as he murmured, “The night’s not over.”
Aiolos nudged him in the side, forcing him to pull his gaze away. “Nothing is going to go wrong.”
“I didn’t mean me.” Sterling rolled his eyes. “As much as all of you like to think otherwise, I’m not some harbinger of bad luck, and tailing me all night won’t accomplish anything. If one of us is going to cause an international incident, it’s going to be Cynrik.”
All three of them looked at their other brother who was out in the middle of the dancefloor and a fair bit closer to his partner than the dance usually allowed. The lady didn’t seem to mind as she beamed up at him and batted her eyelashes. Fortunately, he was forced to step away as he and his partner moved down the line and to the back as the reel called for.
Sterling said, “One day a young lady’s father isn’t going to be won over by his thin layer of charm. If anything, he’s the one you should be chaperoning.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve been adequately preparing Cynrik and the Astrian court to ensure there would be no issues.” Harlin shook his head. “It’s the foreign parties I’m more concerned about.”
“As long as they didn’t bring any lovely young women, Cynrik won’t be a problem,” Aiolos said with a wry smile.
“That’s the issue,” Harlin said, glancing over the crowd. “When Loraine and I invited the Glacian party, we didn’t expect them to accept the invitation, and when they did, we expected a delegation, not the regent and the princess. Fortunately, there are plenty of Astrian girls to keep Cynrik’s attention for now.”
Sterling spotted Queen Regent Isolde walking away from the Esmean delegate in a piercingly bright white dress. He couldn’t imagine anyone honestly told the woman she looked good considering her skin was paler than her dress, and with sickly white-blonde hair, she was absolutely washed out. The whole look was quite an eyesore and a painfully transparent snub toward Queen Loraine. What ever happened to taste?
“Why did you expect a refusal? Surely, Glaciar would want to examine our alliance closely,” Aiolos said.
“Do you retain any information in your head that isn’t military in nature?” Sterling scoffed. “King Mathias died almost six months ago, right around the time Queen Loraine and Harlin sent out the official invitations.”
“Obviously I remember King Mathias’ death. What I mean is why would that stop them from coming?” Aiolos narrowed his eyes.
“Glaciar has very specific mourning customs. Members of the deceased family are expected to dress in full, black mourning clothes for six months following the funeral. Women are expected to wear a veil in public for that amount of time.” Sterling narrowed his eyes back at Aiolos. “It’s more common among the upper class of Glaciar since they can afford to have spare mourning outfits and a veil would not inhibit their work, but most of the Glacian middle and lower class still don darker colors for as long as they can manage it.”
“Sterling’s right. Glaciar takes mourning very seriously. Part of the requisite six months is that those in mourning do not attend public celebrations.” Harlin nodded with a satisfied spark in his eyes.
Sterling did not need his brother’s approval, but he supposed he would take it. Harlin was the one who trained him as a diplomat after all. Knowledge of such things was to be expected.
“Are you sure?” Aiolos stared pointedly at the Queen Regent Isolde who was joining the dancers, unveiled face and brilliant white dress and all.
What an interesting statement to make, and Sterling knew he was not mistaken. This was a deliberate statement.
“I’m sure,” Harlin said, following Aiolos’ gaze. “But my information is from an outsider’s perspective. It’s entirely possible there’s an exception we simply don’t know about that allows Queen Regent Isolde and Princess Eirwen to be here.”
Aiolos and Harlin’s conversation turned in a new direction, but Sterling stayed focused. He was not so quick to believe in such an exception, unless that exception was simply Queen Regent Isolde did as she pleased because no one was going to challenge her on her choices. If he remembered correctly, there had been no question about her taking on the role of acting regent for the princess until she comes of age in about five months.
He pulled his eyes away from the dancers and looked around the room. Harlin had mentioned the princess, and Sterling couldn’t deny he was curious.
Had she followed her stepmother’s lead? It wasn’t until his eyes passed over what he thought was a shadow that he realized it was no shadow at all. The shadow was a woman dressed from head to toe in black. Any detail indicating age, rank, or personality were hidden under a black veil, but her dress did give him a name.
Princess Eirwen of Glaciar.
He didn’t actually know much about Princess Eirwen, but he recalled a few important facts. She was the same age he was, the only child to the late King Mathias and late Queen Isla. She was supposedly beautiful, whether or not that was true remained to be seen.
He thought back. Keeping up with the royal families of each country was important especially if he was going to follow Harlin’s lead and become a diplomat.
But he couldn’t recall anything important about Princess Eirwen.
Interesting. Her stepmother blatantly shed the mourning clothes and mingled while the princess held fast to their mourning customs and stood against the wall as detached as one could be from such a large celebration.
What fascinated him more was the fact the girl who looked like a shadow had quite an interesting shadow herself. Off to her side stood a man dressed in what seemed to be a Glacian guard uniform, but his weapons of choice were an axe and a small crossbow. A personal bodyguard? No one else had brought their personal guards into the ballroom.
Hadn’t Harlin told him once a good diplomat found ways to approach even the most unapproachable people of importance?
You can pre-order Mirrors of Ice on Amazon here. Thank you so much for reading, and I’ll see you next time!