2017 Chapter 1

 I stand still, waiting for my target to come to me. The fly buzzes lazily around the priest's head as he drones on about unity. I roll my eyes, annoyed by the false serenity veiling his malevolence, and then narrow them, focusing all of my hatred and helplessness on the tiny pest that lands on the priest's shoulder.

"Tens of thousands of years ago, our world was fractured," the priest says gravely. "The Earth split into four worlds, each retaining enough atmosphere to sustain life. The quarter that remained closest to the sun was renamed Summer, the next world called Spring, then Autumn, and finally, the world that drifted the furthest away from the sun, called Winter."

The crowd murmurs and I feel the priest risk a glance at me. I am from Winter. My dress reflects my culture, beaded in the palest blues and purples. It doesn't look like I'm wearing a gown so much as I am encased in ice. My crown and shoulders are spiked with icicles that glitter in the sun. But they are made of glass and will never melt. I am made of steel, and I won't melt either.

"Unfortunately," the priest continues, "as the world was torn asunder, so was mankind, and Summer and Winter were estranged."

Estranged. I snorted internally. At vicious war, he meant. We still were. This peace ceremony meant nothing to me. I had no goal but to slaughter every Summerian on this planet and mine its resources for Winter.

To my right, to the King of Summer. I have refused to look directly at him since I arrived. I want to save that for the moment right before I kill him.

The fly lifts up off of the priest's shoulder, and heads toward me. I wait, and then spear the fly with a spike from my crown. I hear the King gasp.

The priest's eyes widen. "We are together to unite these worlds," he says, choking slightly. He clears his throat, staring at the speared fly. "This wedding..." he falters. He lifts his gaze heavenward and squares his shoulders.

"Will unite those worlds as it unites the King of Summer with the Queen of Winter." His voice rises on this last and the crowd stands. A roar of approval roasts me from behind. Fools. They don't know what I have in store for them.

Ice cold fury burns me from within as the rest of the ceremony is performed. As the King's wrist and mine are tied together with ribbon, I look up and accidentally meet the King's gaze.

Growing up on Winter, blues and violets make up the shadows. I've seen every shade of blue, except for this. When had blue gained the ability to reflect so much warmth?

He sees no such warmth in me. I can see the dismay in his eyes, as he stares into the cool black depths of mine. Even the whites of my eyes are black, a hallmark of the Winter-born. He masks his dismay with a tentative smile, that only makes my own lips tighten.

This is what I hate about Summerians, their false sunniness hides their ruthless hearts. Although Winterians prize ruthlessness, we wear ours on our sleeves, and have no patience for facades of piety. Every Summerian since I arrived has smiled at me as though their ancestors didn't slaughter mine by the score. As though they wouldn't slaughter me if given the chance. As though I shouldn't want to slaughter them where they stand.

My new husband and I turn away from the priest. As I turn, the fly on my crown splits in two and falls to the ground. I crush it under my heel, and vow to do the same to every smiling face that cheers at us from the sidelines as we make our way back into the palace.