Under the Ice Blades

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Do you think you could talk to him, sir?” Maybe if she pummeled enough of his cadets into the ground, they would complain, and Zirkander would see the merits of requesting someone more serene for the teaching position.

  “The king? We’re not really best buddies.”

  “I thought you were best buddies with everyone, sir.”

  “Only those who appreciate my irrepressible charm.”

  Oh? From what Kaika had noticed, King Angulus had a dry manner that might turn to laughs if one could ever catch him relaxed and off duty. But did kings ever get to be off duty? She wasn’t sure she could imagine him sitting at a bar and swilling beers with Zirkander, but he seemed like he’d be more likely to appreciate Zirkander’s bluntness, however irrepressible, than the attitudes of men who chose diplomacy—and prevarication—with him. Still, what did she know? When Kaika had been recounting—confessing—the events of the queen’s death after Zirkander had recovered him from the kidnappers, she hadn’t received the impression that Angulus blamed her, hated her, or otherwise wanted to punish her. Yet here she was.

  Zirkander’s gaze shifted past her shoulder, toward an elevated walkway and bleachers that overlooked the muddy training field. “You may get a chance to talk to the king yourself.”

  Kaika followed his gaze and spotted King Angulus and four bodyguards standing on the walkway. He leaned against the railing, looking out over the obstacle course and the harbor beyond it. Perhaps due to the drizzle, he wore none of the trappings of office, being dressed only in practical boots, trousers, and an oilskin jacket and cap to repel water. Even without kingly accoutrements, there was no mistaking his tall and broad build or his face, which included a square jaw, deep brown eyes that noticed everything, and short, curly hair that was more gray than brown these days. He was in his mid-forties, and any woman would find him handsome, though perhaps not in the take-a-second-look-to-adequately-fuel-later-fantasies way that Zirkander was. Had he been a mechanic or soldier she’d met in a bar, she might have had a chance at luring him off for an evening of carnal pleasures, but whoever kings had carnal pleasures with, it wasn’t mud-spattered field officers.

  After giving them a nod, Angulus headed for stairs that led down to the field.

  “I’m sure he’s here to talk to you, sir,” Kaika said.

  “Probably here to see if any of the cadets look promising. Most of them should still be in the academy, but with the elevated Cofah threat, we need to get more qualified pilots in the air.” Zirkander waved at her before heading toward the bottom of the stairs. “You better get them back to work. And try to make them look good for the king, will you?”

  “Good? It’s my first day here, sir. Eventually, I might be able to convert them from so-embarrassing-they-trip-over-their-own-boots to awkward-but-with-potential. That day isn’t here yet, and good is an extremely distant goal.”

  “Do your best.”

  While Zirkander spoke with the king, Kaika rounded up the troops and started more teams through the obstacle course. She kept an eye on Angulus, planning to run up and ask for an audience before he left. It was presumptuous, but it wouldn’t be the first time she had been presumptuous with him. Early in her military career, she had earned her spot in the elite forces program, a program that had never been open to women, after blowing up an urn in the castle to demonstrate to the king that she would make a fine addition to the demolitions unit. She had never known if Angulus, fresh to the throne after his father’s death back then, had found her antics bold and admirable or appalling and inappropriate. Either way, he’d seen fit to give her special permission to apply for the program, and when she had passed all of the tests, both physical and in demolitions school, nobody had stopped her from joining the unit.

  Out on the training field, she was distracted from her plans of addressing the king when a male cadet challenged her, wanting to know if she could make it through the course in the allotted time. Though she thought the brat lippy for questioning her abilities, she had seen enough of the youths to know she could beat them. With the male infantry officers, it might have been different, especially for those on track for the elite forces, but these people had been chosen based on their ability to calculate math equations in the air, not because they excelled in athletics. Kaika ran side by side with her challenger for the first half of the course, her long legs taking her over the log hurdles with ease, and thanks to regular training, she had enough upper body strength to sweep her through the ropes and over the wall more quickly than he. She was waiting for him at the end when he finished, and she wriggled her fingers in invitation, to make it clear that her running the course didn’t mean he got to avoid dealing with the “Cofah berserker.” Aware that Zirkander and the king might be watching, she taught him a few things as they sparred instead of pummeling him straight into the ground, then sent him to the end of the line.

  “Captain Kaika,” Zirkander called and waved her over. He still stood at the base of the stairs alongside Angulus, looking out over the field, with two bodyguards framing them and another two on the walkway above.

  Kaika jogged over, nerves plucking at her stomach. They were calling her over. Had Zirkander said something to the king? Either way, this was her chance to ask for a reassignment. She wouldn’t even have to be presumptuous, not overly so, anyway.

  Since she was in uniform, she saluted the king. That was a perk of military service. Civilian women traditionally genuflected, and she’d never had a stomach for bending a knee to anyone.

  “Captain Kaika,” Angulus said, regarding her with his dark eyes. His face did not give any of his thoughts away. “I understand you wish to speak with me.”

  “Yes, Sire.” She opened her mouth to ask her question, but he kept speaking.

  “I have several inspections and must continue on to them now.” He nodded toward the walkway. “But if you report to the castle after your shift, I will see you then.”

  “I. Oh. Thank you, Sire.”

  She hadn’t intended to ask him anything that would take long, and she wouldn’t have minded having Zirkander nearby, if only because he might back her up, but he was already uttering a “Carry on” and heading up the stairs. He almost bumped into one of his bodyguards who didn’t scurry out of the way fast enough. He growled something at the man before striding out of view.

  He seemed more tense than usual, at least from the times Kaika had seen him before, and she hoped that didn’t bode poorly for her meeting.

  “After shift,” Zirkander said. “That sounds like a dinner date. Make sure you wipe the mud off your womanly bits before you go. Angulus would be a better prize than Therrik.”

  Kaika almost choked on the idea of the king as a prize. She didn’t consider herself shy or easily intimidated, but she would definitely feel discombobulated if she tried to woo royalty, especially royalty whose wife had been dead for less than a month.

  “I’m sure neither dinner, dates, nor womanly bits are on his mind, sir.”

  “No? Hm.” Zirkander’s face had a speculative look that Kaika did not know how to interpret. “Well, I’ll wish you luck with your request, and I shall leave you to your fulfilling work.” He waved in parting, then headed back toward headquarters, but not before giving another long look toward the airborne fliers.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Kaika walked back toward the cadets, telling the nerves in her stomach that they could calm down because she wasn’t going to see the king for hours. Her nerves failed to listen. They knew she would have all day to worry about what she would say to Angulus in a private audience, one that would take place in the very castle she had blown her way into three weeks earlier.

  Chapter 2

  Angulus ducked his chin as he knocked away the jab toward his face, not trusting himself to fully stop the quick, powerful punches of his security chief. The man’s fists were wrapped with padded gloves, but they still left bruises when they connected.

  Angulus succeeded with the block, but two more
straight punches flew toward his face, followed by an uppercut toward his abdomen. He danced back on the balls of his feet, but not as far as he would have liked. The ropes of the boxing square created a barrier at his back.

  When Sarkon did not press his attack immediately, Angulus took advantage of the pause to launch an offense of his own and sent several quick jabs toward his opponent’s face. He hoped to bring up Sarkon’s arms, so he could slip a punch in from below, but as usual, the chief’s defenses were as solid as a brick wall. Out of nowhere, padded knuckles grazed Angulus’s abdomen.

  He sighed and tapped his stomach to acknowledge the point.

  “Had enough?” Sarkon asked, lowering his fists.

  They faced each other barefoot and shirtless, sweat dripping from both of their bodies, a testament to the hour they had spent in the square. His face flushed from exertion, Angulus deepened his breaths, trying to return them to a normal rhythm. He took some pleasure in noticing that it was easier to accomplish than it had been a few weeks ago.

  “Another ten minutes,” he said.

  Sarkon’s gray brows rose, the faded scar that notched the corner of his left eye twitching slightly. He was almost twenty years Angulus’s senior, and had been the weapons instructor in the castle since Angulus had been old enough to pick up his first wooden sword, yet he was lean and wiry without any fat on his frame. He danced circles around most people in the boxing square, even the elite soldiers stationed on the grounds. But even he appeared ready for a break. He held up a hand and grabbed one of the towels draped over the ropes.

  “Is there a reason for this new dedication to fitness and boxing, Sire?” Sarkon asked.

  “I’ve realized how much I enjoy spending time with you.”

  “Given how often you cursed my name in the last hour, I suspect that’s a lie.”

  “I’m fairly certain there’s a law against accusing your monarch of mendacity.” Angulus grabbed the other towel and wiped his face. Yes, there was a reason he had increased his weekly hours in the gymnasium, but he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “If this has something to do with the kidnapping, nobody thinks poorly of you for that.”

  So much for not talking about it.

  “Even if that’s true, and I doubt it is, I think poorly of myself. What kind of ruler lets his wife drug him and hand him off to sycophants who drag him to an island where he’s held prisoner for weeks?” Angulus would not confide in—or whine to—most people in the castle, but he had known Sarkon for most of his life. If his security chief ever broke confidences, Angulus hadn’t caught him at it.

  “A man who had no reason to believe his wife was conspiring against him.”

  “So a blind man. Is it better to be blind than inept?”

  Sarkon grimaced. “Sire, you’re not blind. And you are not the only one who was left feeling inadequate last month. I knew of her dealings with that organization, but I didn’t believe she would ever be a threat to you. It was my fault you were captured. You should have had my head when you returned.”

  “Who else would box with me without pulling punches and praising my nonexistent skill?”

  “Even with the limited time you have for training, you’re a capable fighter.”

  “If that were true, I would have been able to escape that lighthouse without needing to be rescued. By the already-overly-heroic General Zirkander, no less.” Angulus knew the grousing was unseemly, especially if Sarkon was feeling miserable for his own failings, but Angulus hadn’t spoken to anyone of this since his return to the castle, and the words were tumbling out, needing to be spoken. Besides, Sarkon had asked. That would teach him.

  “I thought you liked Zirkander.”

  “I do. Mostly.” Angulus could get over the fact that the newspaper reporters treated him with much more respect than their king—after all, journalists loved stories of common men who rose to great heights—but talking to the man always left Angulus feeling wistful. What would it be like to fly off on adventures, knowing one could rely completely and utterly on one’s own skills to survive? Angulus had spent his life being protected by bodyguards. He’d thought he had long since come to accept his role in the world, but these last couple of weeks, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how he’d never had a chance to prove himself worthy of the crown that fate had handed him.

  Zirkander got to prove himself—usually to public acclaim—every week. As if that weren’t enough, he could chat easily and confidently with women, even a woman like Captain Kaika, someone Angulus had always felt stiff and stilted around. Of course, Zirkander wasn’t the one who had been thinking fondly of Kaika ever since she had stormed into the castle, blowing up a priceless urn to show she deserved a place on a demolitions team. Fondly. He snorted at himself. That wasn’t exactly the word that described his numerous dreams over the years—dreams that were bound to repeat tonight, after watching her skim through that obstacle course while humiliating young soldiers left and right. He barely remembered what he had been talking about with Zirkander, since he’d been watching her out of the corner of his eye most of the time.

  Realizing Sarkon was gazing blandly at him, perhaps waiting for an addendum to that “mostly,” Angulus added, “I’d just like to punch him in the face sometimes. Is that petty?”

  “Extremely so, Sire.”

  “I thought so. That’s why I haven’t done it.”

  “Your wisdom is without bounds.”

  Angulus shot his old comrade a dirty look, then waved in the direction of the baths. “I have an appointment soon. Better wash up.”

  Beyond the gymnasium’s tall windows, the cloudy afternoon sky was deepening toward twilight. As much as he wouldn’t mind wandering shirtless into his meeting with Captain Kaika—preferably while flexing his muscles and looking appealingly masculine—his mother had long ago instilled rules about proper decorum into his brain. Besides, Kaika spent her days with some of the most elite soldiers in the country, soldiers who probably didn’t have the layer of fat over their muscles that he had. He slowed his gait enough to eye himself in a mirror on the way to the washroom. There wasn’t a lot of fat—in his determination not to turn into his rotund father, he’d never allowed himself to go too long without training—but he’d lost the definition he’d had when he had served as an officer in his youth. Would Kaika even find him attractive?

  Seven gods, why was he thinking about this? He hurried to catch up with Sarkon.

  His wife had been dead for less than a month. Even if they’d had a loveless marriage, one that hadn’t involved sex in nearly ten years, the newspapers and the lords in the council would wag their eyebrows—and their lips—if he started courting a new woman. When he did court someone new, they would expect him to find an appropriate lady of the appropriate bloodlines, one who might give him the children that Nia never had. They certainly wouldn’t approve of him courting a soldier who specialized in blowing up buildings, especially considering she had blown up part of his building.

  Angulus couldn’t help but grin at that thought. The reports had been severely garbled, and he suspected Captain Kaika herself had given him a better accounting at Zirkander’s mother’s house than any of his intelligence people had, but it sounded like they had arrested her and thrown her in the dungeon, only to have her blow her way out without help. Such a woman. Maybe he’d have to ignore the council and invite her to dinner. Or would dinner be too sedate for her tastes? What did a woman who handled explosives for a living do for recreation? Angulus had followed her career assiduously, but he knew little about her life or dreams outside of the reports filtered up through the chain of command.

  “Sire?” came a voice from the other side of the gymnasium.

  Angulus had just stepped into the hallway heading toward the baths, but he paused. That was one voice he never ignored.

  “What is it, General Braksonoth?” he asked as the bespectacled, gray-haired officer jogged across the gym.

  “News, Sire. Not good news. I
t’s about—” General Braksonoth glanced at Sarkon, snapped his mouth shut, and raised his eyebrows toward Angulus.

  Angulus almost waved for Braksonoth to report, since he had few secrets from his head of security, but in addition to being the battalion commander for the elite forces unit, Braksonoth monitored security for the entire nation. He received reports from intelligence officers all over the country, and his dominion went far beyond matters of the castle.

  “I’ll catch up with you, Sarkon,” Angulus said.

  “Of course, Sire.”

  Braksonoth waited patiently with his hands clasped behind his back until Sarkon disappeared, but his eyes burned with rare intensity.

  “There’s a problem at the Dandelion facility, Sire,” he reported in a low voice.

  “What kind of problem?” Dandelion was the code name for the biggest weapons research facility in Iskandia, an underground laboratory inside a mountain at the southern end of the Ice Blades. Few knew of its existence, except for the scientists and a handful of trusted military veterans that worked there. Angulus had almost sent Deathmaker out to join the team, and still might one day, but he would wait until the ex-pirate had proven he could be trusted to stay loyal to his new homeland.

  “There was a break-in, a new tunnel bored in from the back of the facility.” He frowned and shook his head slightly. “From deeper within the mountain. Two scientists were murdered in the generator room, and the radio reporting station on the side of the mountain was blown up. Our people didn’t hear the noise, so we’re not sure if some new kind of explosives might have been used. With the radio so close to the entrance, the soldiers that guard the ledge should have heard it.”

  Angulus gritted his teeth, more concerned about the dead men than the dead radio. He had handpicked the men for the project. He knew them all—and their families.