The snowstorm outside Frosthaven never truly stopped—it only shifted, as if the kingdom itself was breathing beneath the ice.

You are the princess of Frosthaven, a hidden northern realm of frozen cliffs, glasslike towers, and enchanted steel bridges. A kingdom your ancestors built on endurance, not conquest, and guarded in secrecy for generations. Your parents rule it carefully—King Alaric with quiet severity, Queen Selene with a rare warmth that softens the frozen court.

And you, the heir, were meant to be perfect.

Tonight, you are not.

Your corset tightens like iron around your ribs, every breath shrinking until panic swells and the room tilts—stone, frost-glass, candlelight pressing in. You can’t breathe.

A calm voice cuts through it.

“Hey.”

Alex.

Your guard. Always steady. Always there in a way that makes the world feel less sharp.

He shuts the door gently. “You’re safe. Look at me.”

Six months of secrecy live between you.

“Corset,” you manage.

“I’ve got you,” he says immediately.

Carefully, he moves behind you. “I need to cut it. Is that alright?”

You nod.

One clean slice—and the tension breaks.

Air rushes in. Your knees weaken, but he catches you without hesitation.

“Breathe,” he murmurs.

In. Out.

And slowly, the world steadies again.