Elara's POV
The crown was three feet away from my head when my world ended.
I stood on the ancient stone platform in the Grand Hall, my heart hammering so hard I thought everyone could hear it. Thousands of eyes watched me—nobles in their finest clothes, common folk crammed into the balconies, guards lining every wall. My coronation gown felt heavy, like it was trying to pull me down through the floor.
"Do you, Elara Winterborne, swear to protect this kingdom?" High Chancellor Varius asked, holding the crown above me.
"I swear," I said, my voice steady even though my hands were shaking.
Then I saw Morgana moving through the crowd.
My little sister shouldn't have been walking toward the platform. She was supposed to be standing with the other nobles, watching quietly. But she was climbing the steps, carrying a small wooden box, and her face was wet with tears.
Something cold twisted in my stomach.
"Morgana?" I whispered. "What are you doing?"
She didn't answer. She just kept walking until she stood right next to Varius. Then she opened the box.
Inside were things I'd never seen before—strange crystals that glowed with blue light, books with symbols I didn't recognize, and a silver knife covered in frost.
"I'm so sorry, sister," Morgana said, her voice breaking. "But I can't let you destroy our kingdom."
The crowd gasped. Confused whispers filled the hall like angry bees.
"What is this?" I asked, staring at the box. "Morgana, I don't understand—"
"These were found in your private chambers this morning," Varius announced, his voice booming across the hall. The crown disappeared from his hands. "Evidence of forbidden ice magic."
My blood turned to ice. "That's not mine! I've never seen those things before!"
"Then explain this," Varius said, pulling out a leather journal. He opened it and read aloud: "The ancient ice calls to me. I must learn to control it before someone discovers what I can do."
The handwriting looked exactly like mine.
"I didn't write that!" I shouted, but my voice was drowned out by the crowd's angry roar.
"Liar!" someone screamed.
"She brought the winter curse!"
"Arrest her!"
I looked at Morgana, desperate for her to tell them the truth. But she just stood there crying, shaking her head like I'd broken her heart.
"Please," I begged, reaching for her hand. "You know me. You know I would never—"
She jerked away from me like I'd tried to burn her. "I wanted to believe you," she sobbed. "I wanted to think our father's death was natural. But then I found these things hidden in your room. All this time, you've been practicing dark magic!"
"Our father died from illness!" I said, tears streaming down my face now. "Morgana, please, you have to listen—"
"Enough!" Varius's voice cracked like thunder. He gestured to the guards. "Seize her."
Four guards rushed forward. I tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. They grabbed my arms, pulling them behind my back so hard I cried out in pain.
"No! This is wrong! I didn't do anything!" I screamed, fighting against their grip.
The crowd was chanting now: "Traitor! Cursed princess! Lock her away!"
One guard ripped the small silver circlet from my hair—the one that marked me as heir to the throne. He threw it on the ground and stomped on it. The metal bent and twisted under his boot.
I felt something break inside my chest.
"Take her to the dungeons," Varius ordered. "She will stand trial for treason and dark magic at dawn."
"This is a lie!" I shouted as they dragged me down the platform steps. "Varius, you know the truth! Tell them!"
But Varius just watched me with cold, empty eyes.
The guards pulled me through the Grand Hall. People I'd known my whole life turned away. Lady Helena, who taught me to dance. Lord Marcus, who always snuck me sweets when I was little. Captain Lysander, who'd sworn to protect me.
They all looked at the floor as I passed.
Only one person met my eyes—an old woman in the back of the crowd. She was crying, and her lips moved silently: I'm sorry.
Then the guards shoved me through a doorway, and the Grand Hall disappeared behind heavy doors.
They dragged me down, down, down into the cold darkness beneath the palace. My beautiful coronation gown tore on the rough stone stairs. My knees scraped and bled. I stopped fighting. What was the point?
Finally, they threw me into a cell. I hit the floor hard, tasting blood.
The door slammed shut with a sound like a coffin closing.
I lay there in the darkness, my body aching, my heart shattered into a million pieces. This morning I was about to become queen. Now I was a prisoner in my own palace.
Outside my cell, I heard the guards talking in low voices.
"Think she really did it?" one asked.
"Doesn't matter what we think," another replied. "High Chancellor says she's guilty. That's good enough for me."
Their footsteps faded away, leaving me alone.
I pulled myself up to sitting and wrapped my arms around my knees. The cell was freezing. So cold I could see my breath.
And then I noticed something impossible.
Where my tears had fallen on the stone floor, tiny crystals of ice were spreading outward like frozen flowers.
I held up my shaking hands and watched in horror as frost began forming on my fingertips.
No. No, no, no.
The magic they'd accused me of—the magic I swore I didn't have—was real.
And it was growing stronger.