To Winter’s left she could make out the edges of her stepmother’s fingernails as they dug into the arm of her throne, an imposing seat carved from white stone. Like standing on air, about to plummet into the depths of the crater lake. The throne room itself extended past the walls of the tower, so that when one passed beyond the edge of the mosaic floor, they found themselves on a ledge of clear glass. From her seat, Winter could see Artemisia Lake mirroring the white palace and the city reaching for the edge of the enormous clear dome that sheltered them from the outside elements-or lack thereof. The throne room, in the central tower of the palace, had the most striking view in the city.

She struggled to bring the throne room into focus before it dissolved. She squeezed her fingers to hold them still and pressed the bottoms of her feet into the hard floor. Winter hid her hands in the folds of her gown. “… records indicate the shell child is the accused’s son, taken on 29 July of last year. “… was attempting to interfere with one of the shells currently stored…” Winter curled her toes inside her thin-soled shoes, afraid that if they got any colder before this trial was over, they would snap off. It was easy to lose track of what he was saying, easy to let all the words blur and conjoin. Thaumaturge Aimery Park spoke with a serene, measured cadence, like a ballad. “… security feeds captured him entering the AR-Central med-clinic’s sublevels at 23:00 U.T.C.…”

She was more beautiful even than the queen herself. The young princess was as beautiful as daylight.

Winter marissa