The Summer King and His Winter Bride-Chapter 29: Awakened

He awoke in the evening but darkness clung to his vision like a second skin. His mind was slow, sluggish, drifting away on a sea of something unnatural.

Casimir had never had such a deep sleep in his life not even in the years before battle, where the scent of citrus and summer blossoms lulled him into an uneasy rest. This was different.

The air felt thick and stagnant. The embers in the hearth had long died out, leaving him feeling cold in the room.

His eyes opened and desperately tried to focus as a sharp ache drummed at the base of his skull. He felt like he was paralyzed and for a terrifying moment he thought he was.

Then he inhaled sharply and forced himself to sit upright.

"Caroline."

Her name came unbidden from his lips before he realized it and he turned expecting to see her beside him in the vast bed but the silken sheets were rumpled and the space beside him was empty.

HIs chest tightened with regret as he realized he had been too deep in slumber. Someone had tampered with his rest.

Casimir swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the cold stone floor jolted his senses back to full alertness as his instincts screamed at him that something was missing and very wrong with the situation.

Where was his wife?

He reached for his fire magic, but it felt weak, tangled like something had dampened it. He clenched his fists, drawing in a slow breath. Then, pushing past the fog that blurred his senses, he forced himself to his feet.

The wind stirred the heavy curtains and a chilling realization crawled up his spine, his room door was left ajar.

His bride would not have left him alone without a word.

His pulse roared in his ears as he strode toward the door, his breath came out ragged. The moment he stepped into the corridor, he found his aunt, Lady Miranda waiting for him.

Lady Miranda had waited patiently for this moment and she prayed to God silently that he would not set the whole place on fire in his rage.

She had spent hours ensuring the guards, the healers and the servants held their tongues, keeping the court ignorant of the disaster that had unfolded in the king’s bedchamber. She braced herself as she watched her nephew’s expression shift from confusion to fury in the dim hallway they were both standing in.

"You’re awake," she said gently.

Casimir wasted no time or his breath for the matter.

"Where is she?" He asked sharper than he intended.

Miranda exhaled through her nose, he was going to hate what she had to tell him.

"Gone".

The single word hit him like a hammer to the chest, his shoulders went rigid and he drew in a sharp breath.

He took a step forward his presence commanding despite the sluggishness he battled.

"Gone?" His voice was rough. "What happened?"

She resisted the urge to rub her temples. She had never seen her beloved nephew in such a state not even after battle, when blood pained his skin and exhaustion pulled him under.

"Both of you were drugged," she replied finally.

"What?" He asked as his jaw tightened and his fingers twitched at his sides.

"You don’t remember much do you?" She tilted her head studying him. He searched his mind, she saw it in his eyes, the flickers of memory, the realization that there was nothing where there should have been something.

His wedding night had been stolen from him.

She folded her arms trying to keep her own frustration buried beneath layers of self-control.

"Whoever did this ensured the marriage was left unconsummated."

Casimir’s breath came out unevenly as his magic stirred, awakened but still dangerous to summon.

She stepped closer to him then lowering her voice.

"Listen to me, someone planned this. Someone powerful enough to slip something into your food and drink without raising suspicion. They didn’t just want to humiliate you they wanted to weaken your claim over her. If the marriage is incomplete, the Winter Court has leverage to dispute it."

She saw the moment realization struck him like a slap across the face.

Casimir was many things but definitely not slow-witted. His mind worked quickly and even when dulled he knew as well as she did that there were only a handful of people with means to orchestrate something like this.

And one of them had succeeded.

A shadow crossed his face as he asked. "Caroline, where is she?"

Miranda hesitated as she had her suspicions but nothing concrete to prove. She hated to give Casimir uncertainty as it only made him more reckless.

"We do not know," she admitted. "But I suspect that she did not leave of her own free will."

His whole body tensed and his hands curled into fists as his breathing got heavy. He felt too much fury in that moment and too much guilt.

Lady Miranda had seen him angry before and watched him carve through enemies on the battlefield but this was different. This was personal.

He had failed to protect his queen.

She placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Casimir. Focus."

His gaze snapped to hers his amber eyes alight with fury in their depths.

"We will find her," she said her voice sharp. "But if you lose yourself to rage, you will be blind to the enemy who did this. Do not be a fool."

He exhaled sharply, shaking off the last remnants of his sluggishness and his fingers flexed as the tension in his body coiled into something more dangerous, it was purpose.

Then in a harsh voice he said:

"Find out who did this and prepare the war council."

The moment Casimir realized Caroline was gone, a storm broke inside him.

The whispers reached his ears hesitant, uncertain and terrified.

The Queen was missing.

He entered the throne room of the Summer Palace.

For one still second, silence blanketed the throne room.

Then, the world exploded.

A force unlike anything the palace had felt in years rippled outward from Casimir. The marble floors beneath him cracked like glass. The heat of his fury sent burned the banners, the gilded sconces flickered wildly it was as though a firestorm had erupted indoors.

The servants flinched away as some stumbled in their haste to flee the room. The advisors who remained barely dared to breathe.

Casimir’s heart wanted to explode. His breath was sharp and ragged, the fire licking up his forearms glowed wildly unable to be contained as the power inside him seethed demanding to be released in full force as retribution.

"Where is she?!" He yelled out.

No one answered fast enough.

His fury lashed out in one sweeping gesture that sent a solid oak table crashing against the wall which splintered on impact.

A clear voice finally spoke. It was his aunt Miranda.

"She was taken, Your Majesty."

Casimir wasted no time he demanded.

"Which room was she last present in?"

The marigold room your Majesty, an attendant said quietly.

Casimir left the throne room and entered the marigold room, almost breaking down the door as he went past them.

Casimir turned and studied the room, his glare like the sun at its peak, blinding and merciless as he finally figured out who had taken her. Spring Court magic. The realization only made his rage deepen, molten and uncontrollable.

"Summon the war council."

His boots struck the floor as he stormed out of the chamber, down the grand halls of the palace. The air around him was charged with heat and any servant who dared to cross his path scrambled away in fear.

The guards at the war chamber barely had time to pull the doors open when he entered.

A dozen voices fell silent as he stepped inside.

"My Queen was taken under this very roof. Stolen from me!" His gaze swept the room, sharp enough to wound.

"Tell me how?!"

One of his commanders swallowed and answered. "There were no signs of forced entry. No tracks left behind. Only... magic."

Magic. Spring Court magic. A pulsing, living thing that had wrapped around her like vines, unseen until it was too late.

His nails dug into his palms as he remembered her last expression. The way she had looked at him the night before, the weight of everything left unsaid, it was a blade carving through him.

Casimir exhaled sharply. "Prepare the army."

A heavy silence followed.

"Sire," an older strategist hesitated, "if we act in haste, we risk—"

"If we hesitate," Casimir cut him off, "we risk far more."

His voice lowered, a warning beneath the rage.

"Cyrus took my wife. He must believe I will let it stand."

A dangerous smirk ghosted his lips, but there was nothing kind in it. "He is mistaken."

When the meeting adjourned, and the doors slammed shut behind him, Casimir finally allowed himself a moment of quiet.

Alone, standing in the darkened corridor, his head bowed slightly, fingers flexing at his sides. The fury was still there, simmering beneath his skin, but beneath it was fear.

A sick, gnawing thing.

The mind link he had formed with her now that they were married. He reached for it, desperately, seeking anything. A whisper, a flicker of presence. Caroline...

But there was nothing.

His jaw locked. The Spring Court’s magic was strong, but so was he. They could not keep her hidden forever. He would find her and bring her home.

And if Cyrus wanted a war.

Casimir would give him one.