Ice Like Fire by Sara Raasch

almost break through my fragile certainty. What I’m doing is purely the old me, something rash and careless, the part of me that snuck away to find my chakram. The part of me that wails in fury whenever I have to use my magic or Noam tightens his gripon Winter. The part of me that wants to matter .
    “Which is why I’m going to get us more allies,” I tell Sir.
    It’s dangerous, but we need these resources to gain allies so we can get some leverage.
    Noam will be furious.
    And right now, that sounds wonderful.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................
Meira
    DENDERA GIVES MY hair a final pat. “You’re ready.”
    Nessa squeals and claps her hands over her mouth. My eyes flick to Dendera’s reflection, heartbeat hurtling back and forth in my throat. Her enthusiasm is almost as palpable as Nessa’s, if not as vocal.
    I close my eyes, settle in the chair, back straight, face impassive. When I look, I will see someone capable and composed, a warrior and a leader all in one. I can be both Winter’s queen and the orphaned soldier-girl, as my act of defiance tonight against Noam will show.
    I open my eyes.
    My hair, half pulled behind my head in an array of braids, half curling around my shoulders, shines the most radiant white. My gown has silver clasps at the shoulders that leave my arms bare and a belt that curves tight around my waist. At my throat, nestled against the ivory bed of mycollarbone, sits Winter’s Royal Conduit, the silver, heart-shaped locket with the single white snowflake etched on the center.
    I smile, trying out an expression the same way Dendera made me try on different gowns. The pretense cracks and my stomach tightens with the ever-lingering knot of worry that this is a mistake. That I’m wrong for what I have planned, that I need to not be reckless or impulsive or do things I know are dangerous.
    But I hold that smile on my face until it aches.
    I stand, smooth the pleated skirt, and follow Dendera and Nessa out of my room.
    Conall and Garrigan drop in behind us, along with Henn, who takes Dendera’s hand. I sneak a grin at her, but she’s too absorbed in Henn to see.
    My entourage and I weave our way through the palace, looping around to enter the ballroom through the door closest to the rear. I know what awaits us beyond it—a dais, along with Cordellan soldiers, Noam, Theron, the Autumnians, and my people, all excited for the ceremony.
    I should be excited too. But a sudden surge of music makes everyone around me stiffen, as if no one is sure they’re hearing what they think they’re hearing. I tell myself to move through the door linking this hall to the ballroom, but I can’t.
    This music. It’s airy and delicate, bouncing off the walls around me in a swell of unassuming perfection. If I couldput notes to the sound of flakes falling, of water crystallizing into ice, of snow gusting on the wind, this would be it.
    This is what Winter sounds like.
    Dendera squeezes my arm, a dreamlike smile on her face. “The instruments are lyres, a discovery salvaged from the palace. It appears Angra did not destroy all of our treasures.”
    Yet, comes my instinctual reaction, shattering the trance of the music. But no—he’s dead. Finn and Greer brought back no news of him. And even if he comes back somehow, I’ll have allies united to stand against him. He can’t hurt us anymore.
    A door opens on our left, letting a flurry of musty, frigid air waft up from the stone basement below. Sir emerges, trailed by Greer and Finn, all with at least one crate in their arms. The goods I designated for Cordell and Autumn.
    Sir narrows a look at me. “My queen, are you certain you wish to go through with this?”
    I teeter on the brink of changing my mind, but I need to do this. “Yes.”
    He shifts the crates he holds, his uncertainty reeling on his face. “I trust you, my queen. We all trust you to make the best