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me in.”

“But we did,” Herron said firmly, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders.

He was right. They did. And what good had she been as a daughter? She’d created a lifetime of her parents looking over their shoulders, afraid that just maybe she was the offspring of the fabled pirate queen. A lifetime of them trying to hide her and keep her secret and safe. A lifetime of worry.

“And we love you.” Reona wiped her cheeks.

“I’ve been nothing but a burden to you.” Eira looked down at her hands. Frost coated them, snow dripping down to the floor like the icy tears that streamed down her face. She’d said she could handle this truth, but she was proving by the second she couldn’t. “I have caused you worry and pain. I’ve held your real child back.”

“Do not say that again,” Herron boomed.

“You are our ‘real child,’” Reona snapped in a no-nonsense tone. “Just as much as Marcus is.”

But she wasn’t. That feeling of always being in her brother’s shadow. The innate urge to compete, as if to prove herself worthy of love—of a moment in the sun—like there wasn’t enough affection to go around, suddenly had an explanation.

Eira continued staring at her hands. The frost now covered her arms. It was as though her magic was trying to cocoon her, numb her, protect her from this horrible truth.

“Now listen to me,” Herron demanded. Eira couldn’t bear to bring her eyes to his. “If there is suspicion that you are somehow related to Adela then, at best, you will be ostracized.”

“I already am ostracized,” Eira murmured. Another explanation for everything she’d endured. Bad luck and hate was in her blood. They didn’t seem to hear.

He continued, “At worst, you will be hunted. I taught you from a young age—hatred for Adela is as deeply rooted as hatred for sorcerers that still clings to the corners of Solaris. You have to keep this secret for your own sake now. And that may mean clamping down on your magic even more so there aren’t any reasons for people to grow suspicious. No more incidents like the trident today. Anything that can connect you to Adela is a liability.”

Eira drew up her eyes to him. “That’s why Fritz always gave Marcus more tasks in the clinics. That’s why I was never selected for any special training or projects. You two told Uncle to never let me be eligible. You didn’t want to risk my magic taking shape. You didn’t want me to have too much power.”

“I know this is hard, but think rationally,” Reona pleaded with her.

Eira was beyond being rational. “That’s why Marcus has been…saddled with me, managing me, like he’s my keeper. And that was why you didn’t want to let me compete in the trials.”

“Only because we love you.” Reona had the decency to at least pretend to be pained. Eira honestly didn’t know what was sincere anymore. “We all do and want what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me is a moment alone.” Her voice was steel.

“And now that you know, you must realize that the best thing for you to do is drop out of the competition, immediately,” Herron said.

“Get out,” Eira seethed.

“Eira—”

“Get out!” Her voice rose and her magic rushed to meet it. Wickedly sharp points of ice sprouted from her line of snow, stopping just before they punctured her parents’ clothes. Eira panted.

“Let’s give her some space,” Reona said sadly.

“Now that you know the truth, you know what you must do.” Herron looked down at her one last time before allowing his wife to lead him away. “And we expect an apology from you before we leave.”

Eira didn’t know if she could ever bear speaking to them again.

She wanted the echo of the door closing behind them to be the last word on the whole horrible affair. She wanted to never have to think about what they told her again. She wanted it to be a lie.

She wanted so much it ached. So much that everything in the world wouldn’t be enough to fill this gaping hole of want.

Eira slid down the wall, curling into a ball. She didn’t want to think about it. Numb. Cold. Pack the ice tall and tight—so thick that you can’t feel anything. If you are the daughter of the pirate queen then so be it. Be as heartless as she is.

The tears froze on her cheeks as the permafrost that covered her arms crept up her neck. Eira clutched her knees and buried her face in her forearms. Maybe this was what she felt like the night she was abandoned—cold and empty.

A voice echoed to her from a distance. It thudded dully against her mental and physical walls. There was movement as well. Something ruffled her hair. Eira was surprised to realize that hair was still exposed. Every other part of her was coated in ice.

“…get…” the voice said faintly, “…what’s…okay…”

There was a howling in her ears. Eira slowly raised her face to see a whirlwind surrounding her. It ripped curtains off their rungs and peeled off chunks of ice from her body, scattering them like snow around the room.

At the center of the storm was Cullen. He pulled at the ice coating her with red fingers. Her frigid magic nipped at his skin and he cursed under his breath every time one chunk of frost that he peeled off was replaced by another that grew.

“What’re you doing?” Eira murmured.

“You’re not going to be able to breathe if you keep coating yourself in ice.” His hands were on her cheeks, scraping away frost until his cold-blistered fingers met skin. “You mad woman, are you trying to kill yourself?” he shouted in her face over the howling wind that battered her.

“No…the cold won’t kill me.” It hadn’t claimed her when she was a baby, it wouldn’t now. It had been a part of her for her whole life. It was the only thing she knew she could trust to be real.

“Well, stop

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