The Summer King and His Winter Bride-Chapter 32: Storm the Gates

They were all present, all members of his war council in the grand hall.

Casimir was about to discuss his plan and point of attack when he felt a gentle tug in his chest. Like someone were pulling an invisible thread from him.

There was murmuring and arguing as different members expressed their views, with all the noise Casimir found it hard to concentrate.

"Get out now all of you," he growled. As he placed his hand on his chest.

"My king, are you alright...." one of the council members asked.

"Get out!" He raged as his voice thundered across the grand hall like a storm piercing its way across the sky.

Everyone rushed out as boots hit the marble floors and no one looked back. His loyal guards abandoned their posts not daring to question him.

He finally stood alone breathing in, his eyes blazing gold in the reflection of the tall glass windows.

Then he heard it, it was faint, fragile like a ghost of her voice brushing against his mind and soul.

Casimir... if you can hear me... I’m safe, but I don’t know for how long...

He staggered.

Her voice was inside him it was not a sound, but a memory laid over magic, flickering like a candle behind frosted glass.

They’re trying to keep us apart. They say... if we consummate the marriage, the magic dies. Yours. Mine. Everyone’s. Leaving us vulnerable to our enemies...

He swore under his breath. His fists clenched at his sides.

I didn’t want to leave you. I never would have...But Cyrus....

Then nothing.

A flash of magic. A final word.

Felix Gray is a traitor...

Then the tether shattered completely.

"Caroline!" He shouted, not caring who heard.

But there was no response.

The thread had been cut, not by distance, but by dark magic, precise, calculated, and old.

His jaw locked.

Felix Gray. The bastard would be as good as dead now that he had learned the truth.

The man who had sat beside him at counsel, who had offered measured advice with serpentine grace. Casimir had allowed him too close. He had trusted him.

Rage and fear warred in his blood.

"Summon General Lothar. Bring me Dorian Vale. I want every map of the Spring Court, every ancient ward, every scrap of magic traced.

The moment the thread between them snapped, Casimir felt it like a blade to the heart.

A whisper of her presence that had soothed him in sleepless nights and kept him sane amidst the chaos.

Now there was nothing.

Not absence.

Interference.

Sir Gideon entered in just then, cautiously. "My king... the scouts have returned. We have confirmed the Spring Court’s wards are active. Stronger than ever. We cannot pierce them with our magic from our mages."

Casimir’s jaw clenched.

Then he turned, calm suddenly settling over him like a second skin.

"Ready the Summerguard," he said. "Quietly. I want every smuggler, every black-market mage, every forgotten passage into the Springlands investigated."

Gideon hesitated. "You plan to atttack them now?"

"No." Casimir looked out the window to the moonlit sky. "Not yet. But I’m done waiting."

He looked back, eyes cold with steel resolve.

"If they want to play politics with magic then let them. But Caroline is my queen. And I will burn through every lie, every throne, and every court to bring her back."

Casimir’s hands gripped the edge of the table. His knuckles gleamed white beneath sunburned skin.

"She spoke to me. I heard her voice—she told me he took her." He looked up sharply, eyes burning. "She said the name. Cyrus."

Silence followed.

In this moment, Lady Genevieve regent of the Winter Court stood up.

"Casimir," said Lady Genevieve softly from across the room. "If you storm the Springlands, there will be no going back. This could start a war."

He turned toward her, and for a moment, his fury dimmed. Only grief remained.

"What do you call abducting my bride, Genevieve, if not war already?"

No one answered.

Casimir turned toward the gilded mirror mounted on the far wall. The last place he had seen Caroline’s reflection. The one enchanted to follow her movements until it did not.

The mirror was now blackened at the edges. Cracked in the corner. Silent.

With a growl, Casimir drew his sword and hurled it through the glass.

The mirror exploded into shards, a thousand fragments raining to the marble floor like falling stars.

He stared at them for a breath, his shoulders rising and falling.

Then he straightened.

"Summon the Summerguard," he said, voice quiet but laced with heat. "Ready my stallion."

Victor paled. "Your Majesty...."

"We ride for the Spring Court," Casimir said. "Tonight."

The skies above the Springlands turned from dark blue blue to violent gold.

Thunder and lightening scattered across the horizon suddenly and unaturally. The scent of something burning was in the air as the trees bent and gave way to his army that rode with him.

Atop a black stallion, King Casimir rode at the head of his elite Summerguard.

Their armor shimmered like sunfire, blades humming with enchanted heat. Behind them, the forest wilted slightly from their passage.

There would be no more secrets.

"Open the gates," Casimir bellowed as they reached the border of the Spring Court.

The guards hesitated. But power radiated off the Summer King in waves, controlled but barely leashed. The magic that clung to his skin had not dimmed, and that terrified them the most.

The heavy gates swung open.

Casimir did not wait for an invitation he stormed in with his men.

The palace bloomed around him, trees growing into archways, flowers opening with whispered magic, but King Casimir saw only one thing:

King Cyrus.

He was patiently waiting at the top of the marble steps, dressed in robes of green and gold, flanked by a handful of guards. Unbothered. Calculating.

"Now, now," Cyrus said mildly. "You could’ve just knocked."

Casimir dismounted in one smooth, angry motion. "Don’t test my patience, Cyrus. Where is she?"

"Alive. Safe. As promised." Cyrus raised both hands as if in peace.

"You took her from me."

"I saved her," Cyrus snapped. "You don’t even know what they’re planning, do you?"

Casimir’s flames sparked along his arms.

"I don’t care if the skies fall. You had no right to take my wife."

Cyrus met his gaze evenly. "And if I hadn’t, Casimir, you’d be dead by morning."

That made the fire falter.

"Felix Gray is planning your assassination along with Queen Arabella," Cyrus continued, stepping closer. "And if you and Caroline had consummated the marriage, your magic would’ve broken. You would be defenseless. That’s the moment they have been waiting for."

Casimir’s fists clenched. "And you expect me to believe you’re doing this for our benefit?"

"No," Cyrus said. "I’m doing this for the realm. But yes, partly for her. Because I actually believe she’s capable of being more than a pawn in between all of you."

He paused.

"Yet you treat her as though she is defenseless and needs your protection. Casimir countered sarcastically.

"Because she does need it, especially now that she has you.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean Cyrus?"

"Have you vanquished all your enemies for her sake? No you have not they still lurk about planning your downfall."

"At this moment she is more an asset to me than she is to you." Cyrus argued the point.

"She asked for you, you know. Right after dinner. Tried to reach you. But I couldn’t let that bond stay open, not with Felix sniffing through the wards."

Casimir stepped closer until they stood nearly chest to chest. "I want to see her. Now."

Cyrus studied him, then gave a single nod to one of his guards. "Take him to her chambers. Let them speak."

Casimir moved past him swiftly.

The guards showed him to her chambers.

There Caroline stood by the balcony, the wind rustling her pale gown.

She turned sharply at the sound of heavy footsteps, the door opening and froze.

Casimir stood there, eyes wild, breath short, magic pulsing at his fingertips.

"Casimir," she whispered.

He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled her into his arms.

She clutched him frantically as though he were a dream and not real.

"They will not keep us apart for long."

She pulled back, tears brimming. "You came."

"I’ll always come for you my love. I swear it."

He cupped her face, gently brushing his thumbs along her cheekbones as if confirming she was real. Caroline leaned into the touch, her eyes closed, as though the feel of him grounded her back into the world.

Her lower lip trembled, but her spine stayed straight, regal even in grief. "Casimir... the magic, the curse—they said it would destroy you if we..."

"Let it," he murmured. "I would rather lose every shred of power I have than lose you."

She stared at him, stunned. "You don’t mean that."

"I do." He rested his forehead on hers. "Caroline, I’ve ruled with power all my life. Burned kingdoms, shattered treaties. But nothing... nothing has made me feel as alive as you do. Power without you is nothing. Power with you, that is the future I choose."

A shuddering breath escaped her, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, pressing her face into his chest. "I thought I lost you," she whispered. "When they severed the bond, I couldn’t feel you."

"I felt you," he said, voice raw. "Even when they silenced you, I still felt you echo in me. You’re carved into my bones, Caroline. They’ll never cut you out."

A flicker of firelight danced across his features, and he pulled back just enough to study her. "We will leave this place together. You, me, and whatever is coming—we face it as one."

Her lips parted. "Even if it means war?"

He nodded solemnly. "Especially then."

Caroline’s fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic. "Then take me home, Casimir."

He kissed her forehead, slow and reverent.

But before she could answer, the air shifted.

The candles flickered violently, and a strange, sour wind swept into the room. The stone beneath their feet pulsed.

Casimir turned, instincts flaring. His magic surged to his fingertips, but it was already too late.

From the shadows of the chamber, King Cyrus stepped forward, robes sweeping behind him like a serpent’s tail.

"I warned you," he said softly. "It’s not time yet."

Casimir moved in front of Caroline instantly, shielding her. "Step away from her."

"I said it wasn’t time," Cyrus repeated and then flicked his hand.

The ground trembled as thick, living vines exploded from the walls, wrapping around Casimir’s arms and legs with brutal speed. They glowed with Spring magic—ancient, wild, and tailored to trap even Summer fire.

Casimir roared, flames bursting from his skin, but the vines only tightened, resisting his magic, fueled by the very forest around them.

"No!" Caroline cried out, rushing toward him, but Cyrus caught her by the wrist, yanking her back.

"Let her go!" Casimir snarled, struggling against the vines as fire hissed and spat in every direction.

"You want her?" Cyrus said, calm as ever. "Then earn her."

Casimir’s golden eyes blazed. "She is not a prize to be won."

"No," Cyrus agreed. "She’s a queen. And she deserves a king strong enough to tear down the world for her. Not just for love. But for peace."

His grip on Caroline softened, just for a moment. "Unite the courts, Casimir. End the wars. Vanquish your enemies. And only then will you be worthy to stand beside her."

"Don’t do this," Caroline gasped, struggling against him, but Cyrus had uttered the ancient words.

A swirl of green light enveloped them both.

Casimir’s final glimpse of her was wide eyes, outstretched hands, and silent lips forming his name.

Then they vanished.

The vines released him all at once, and Casimir dropped to his knees, chest heaving. The scent of wildflowers and smoke lingered in the air like a cruel afterthought.

She was gone again and he was given a challenge.

King Casimir would rise to meet it.

He stood slowly, magic burning beneath his skin like a storm chained to his bones.

He would vanquish his enemies, unite the courts and get her back.

No matter what it cost him.