The Snow Prince - Raleigh Ruebins Page 0,70

Your true love, who you would marry.”

“No wonder you were so forceful about me marrying a wealthy princess,” I said, still unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

“I wanted what was best,” she said simply. “And it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You felt the spell lift, didn’t you?” she said. “When you kissed Henry outside?”

I was silent.

Truthfully, I had felt something. I’d thought it was just the wind, maybe a warm front finally blowing over.

I’d thought it was just because I loved Henry more than I’d ever thought possible.

“The spell is gone,” she said. I realized suddenly that there were tears streaming down her cheeks, silently.

“How do you know?”

“Because I can feel things again,” she whispered.

“You couldn’t feel things under the spell?”

“There was a cost incurred,” she said. “Of course. Like all hokey, bullshit spells. But now I know it was real.”

I pulled in a deep breath. “God, mother. What was the cost?”

“The cost—the catch—was that I would never find love again,” she said.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It was something I willingly sacrificed,” she said. “So that you would become king. Though I suppose you will not want it, now.”

I was so angry.

But the strange thing was that I wasn’t surprised.

Even though I’d never known about the spell, it finally, after so many years, made my life make sense. It was as if I finally had a diagnosis: I wasn’t crazy. I hadn’t just been an asshole, power-crazed and selfish.

The only surprising thing was that I still wanted to be king.

I knew there was no spell now. My mother was right. I had felt something massive lift away from me when I’d kissed Henry outside, even if I hadn’t known it was happening.

But I wanted to be king even more than I ever had before.

Even with no spell.

“I still want it,” I said, the words coming out in a whisper.

Her eyes jumped to meet mine, peering at me. She was as surprised as I was. “Then Frostmonte will be yours.”

“But you are queen.”

“No. I am leaving,” she said, standing abruptly and walking over to the window. The grey light illuminated her profile, and she looked like a black-and-white photograph for a split second.

“Leaving?”

“Yes. I am abdicating the throne in approximately forty minutes,” she said, looking up at the wrought iron clock hanging above us on the wall. She pulled in a long breath. “And then, I suppose, you will be King Sebastian.”

It was like my insides had all fallen out of me at once. I stopped breathing, staring at my mother, motionless.

“It’ll mostly be formalities, but seeing as how the townsfolk were crowding us this morning, I would expect them to come celebrate tonight,” she said. “Be aware. Make sure you have security present.”

“You’re…” I said, trailing off. My throat was dry, and I swallowed hard. “You’re leaving.”

“I’ve already told you, I am,” she said. “I will be more comfortable in Scandinavia. My plane is being readied for Denmark right now.”

I shook my head. “What’s the catch to this? Have you just cast another spell, controlling me forever as king?”

“There is no catch,” she said.

“Everything with you has a catch,” I said. “Always has. Why would you let me marry a man, but not the man I love?”

“For your legacy’s sake,” she said. “I thought, at least. But I’ll never again make a deal with any catch. It’s only led to ruin.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t think it’s led to ruin at all,” I said. “I think Frostmonte is stronger than ever. And I am deeply in love, in a way I thought I’d never have a chance to be.”

She pulled in a breath. “You’re finally getting what you’ve always wanted, Sebastian.”

My jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. I couldn’t stop tears from breaking off and rolling down my cheeks as I watched her, so detached from all of the years of pain she had put me through.

And as much as I wanted to break something, to scream, to run as far away from her as possible… I didn’t.

I stood up. I walked over to my mother. And I put my arms around her and gave her a hug.

I started sobbing the moment I felt her in my arms, frail and defeated and so unlike herself.

“Oh, please, Sebastian, enough of that,” she said immediately. My mother had always hated it when I showed emotion.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

I knew she didn’t necessarily deserve it. I knew that she had made my life worse, in so many ways.