Elara's POV
They came for me before dawn.
I hadn't slept. How could I? Tomorrow I would be thrown into the Frost Wastes where exiles died within days—frozen solid or torn apart by ice monsters.
The cell door slammed open. "Time to go, princess," a guard sneered. "Or should I say, former princess."
Four guards entered. One carried a bundle of gray cloth that looked thinner than my bedsheets.
"Strip," the lead guard ordered.
"What?" I backed against the wall.
"Your coronation dress belongs to the crown. You're getting exile clothes." He dropped the bundle at my feet. "Strip, or we'll do it for you."
Shame burned through me, but what choice did I have? I turned my back and pulled off the ruined dress with shaking hands. The guards laughed as I stood there in my underclothes, trying to cover myself.
The "traveling clothes" were a joke—a thin gray tunic and pants that wouldn't keep a person warm in autumn, let alone in the Frost Wastes. No cloak. No boots. Just worn cloth shoes that had holes in the toes.
"You're sending me to my death," I said quietly.
"You brought this on yourself," the guard replied.
They chained my wrists and dragged me through the palace one last time. We went through the servant corridors so the nobles wouldn't have to see. But the servants watched—cooks, maids, stable boys, all the people I'd grown up with.
Some cried silently. Others whispered prayers. One old woman pressed something into my hand as I passed—a small piece of bread wrapped in cloth.
"May the old gods protect you," she breathed.
A guard slapped the bread from my hand. "No gifts for traitors."
We emerged into the palace courtyard where a cart waited. Not a nice one—a prisoner cart with iron bars. They shoved me inside and locked the door.
Captain Lysander stood nearby, his face pale. Our eyes met for just a second before he looked away. But I saw his hand curl into a fist, saw the muscle in his jaw jump.
He wanted to help me. But he couldn't. Not without being arrested himself.
The cart lurched forward.
We rode through the capital city as the sun rose. People lined the streets—not to cheer, but to witness. Some threw rotten food at the cart. Others just stared with hard, angry faces.
"Cursed princess!"
"You killed the crops!"
"My children are starving because of you!"
I wanted to scream that I was innocent, that I'd been framed. But what was the point? They'd already decided I was guilty.
A little girl broke free from her mother and ran toward the cart. "Princess Elara!" she cried. "Don't go!"
A guard kicked her away. She fell hard, crying. Her mother pulled her back, shooting me a look of pure hatred.
That hurt worse than any thrown vegetables.
We traveled for hours. The city gave way to farmland—or what used to be farmland. Now the fields were covered in frost despite it being summer. Farmers stood in their frozen fields, watching us pass with hollow eyes.
The curse was real. Something terrible was happening to the kingdom.
And everyone thought it was my fault.
Finally, we reached the border—a line of posts marking where the kingdom ended and the Frost Wastes began. Beyond it, everything was white. Snow and ice stretched as far as I could see.
The temperature dropped so suddenly I gasped. My breath came out in clouds.
The guards pulled me from the cart. My feet hit the ground and immediately went numb from cold.
"Walk," one guard commanded, pointing toward the white wasteland.
"You're not even giving me supplies?" I asked. "No food? No water?"
"Exiles get nothing," he said. "You're lucky we're not executing you."
Lucky. Right.
I took one step toward the Frost Wastes. Then another. The cold bit through my thin clothes like knives.
Behind me, I heard horses. I turned to see a royal carriage arriving—Morgana's carriage.
My sister stepped out, wrapped in a thick fur cloak. She walked toward me slowly, and for a moment, I hoped. Maybe she was here to stop this. Maybe she'd finally tell the truth.
She stopped five feet away.
"I had to see you off," she said softly. "To make sure you actually left."
The hope in my chest died. "Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?"
"You were perfect," Morgana whispered, and I heard real pain in her voice. "Father loved you more. The people loved you more. Everyone always loved you more. I was invisible next to you."
"So you destroyed me?" Tears froze on my cheeks. "I'm your sister, Morgana. I loved you."
"I know," she said. And then she turned and walked back to her carriage.
I watched her go, my heart breaking into smaller and smaller pieces.
"Move!" a guard shouted, shoving me forward.
I stumbled across the border into the Frost Wastes.
Immediately, the cold became unbearable. Wind howled around me, cutting through my thin clothes. Snow stung my face. My feet were already losing feeling.
Behind me, I heard the guards climbing back into their cart. They were leaving.
I was alone.
I walked forward because there was nothing else to do. Walk or die right there.
The sun began to set, and the temperature dropped even further. I couldn't feel my hands anymore. My legs shook with each step.
I was going to die out here. Tonight, probably. Frozen solid like a statue.
And then I saw it.
In the distance, through the swirling snow, something moved. Not an animal. Something bigger. Something walking on two legs.
I squinted, trying to see through the storm.
It was a person. Tall. Covered in furs. Moving toward me with purpose.
Hope sparked in my chest. Maybe someone lived out here. Maybe they could help.
But as the figure got closer, I saw its eyes.
They glowed pale blue, like ice lit from within. Not human eyes. Not human at all.
The creature smiled, showing teeth as sharp as icicles.
"Fresh meat," it growled in a voice like cracking ice. "I haven't eaten in weeks."
I tried to run, but my frozen legs wouldn't obey.
The creature lunged.
And somewhere deep inside me, the ice magic I'd been fighting exploded outward.