Winter Reign: Rise of the Winter Queen

by N. M. Howell

  “I do.”

  Ciraa and I continue shopping, curtseying to passing lords and ladies, and stepping aside for highborns. The Blue Market is famed for being the only known market in the kingdom where highborns deign to walk so amiably among servants, though of course not forgetting the bounds of propriety. Ciraa stops me.

  “That one, up there,” she says, pointing.

  I look up to see the Father’s Fruit she is pointing at. It looks to be the ripest of the lot and I check to ensure no one is watching. With a flick of my wrist I’ve compelled the fruit to float down to my hand. Without moving a muscle, I section it into four pieces and float two over to Ciraa.

  “Very nice, love, but I’ve seen you do that a hundred times since our sorcerer arrived. Won’t you take my breath away?”

  I set the basket down on the ground and take a deep breath, I tilt my head back and shut my eyes against the sky. This is how he taught me to do this spell: to find the warm, stillness inside and bathe in it. Then turn it. Then unleash it. A kind of red, many-armed lightning goes out from me. There are enough arms to touch everyone in the market, all except Ciraa. Instantly the market is quiet, the people frozen. Then I turn them all to Ciraa and make them speak.

  “Is this what you seek?” they say, in one voice.

  And with a blink and an exhale, life returns to normal in the market.

  “Aye, that’ll do,” she says, trembling a bit. “Almighty, I’ve got to be careful what I wish for. I see your secret lessons with Eduard are worth every stolen minute.”

  “Indeed. He’s taught me so much. That compulsion spell is child’s play to some of the magic I’ve learned from him.”

  Ciraa has stopped walking. I turn and go back to her. She is looking at me in a way she has done only rarely.

  “You’re something, you know?” she asks, taking one of my hands. “You and your white hair, and your beautiful face, and secret magic lessons. You’re the most fortunate girl I know, Nevena of Throdan. I envy you.”

  “And I you, Ciraa. For no girl has ever been loved by a friend the way I love you.”

  Ciraa and I pay for our items and walk back to the castle, while I try my hand at explaining to her how the magic works. I am fortunate, indeed, to have her. She is the only one who knows about Eduard and I, and about my ability to use magic. I daren’t tell Sister. I’m ashamed to say I daren’t even tell Delara, who I’ve never lied to. As if my thoughts had called her forth, Delara rounds the corner and comes to me. Ciraa and I curtsey.

  “My lady,” I say, unable to stop smiling.

  “Sweet girl,” she replies. “I wonder if you might come with me to see the healers. If you’ll remember, some weeks ago I gave you my word that I would have the Fingers of the Almighty examine you. Well, they’re ready. Perhaps Ciraa would be kind enough to deliver your basket?”

  “I’ve no doubt she would, my lady, but as his red shadow I must fulfill all of Eduards wishes with my own hands.”

  “Yes, of course. Well, I suppose you’ll be bringing it with you then.”

  I part with Ciraa and Delara and I head for the Walk of the Fallen, the great hall of the healers of Moerdra Castle, where the Fingers of the Almighty will wait after being summoned to the castle. It is most unusual for the highest order of healers to attend a servant girl - in fact, I’m not sure if it’s ever been done - but Delara has only ever looked out for me and once she gives her word it is only a matter of time before the deed is carried through. As we walk, she and I talk of everything under the sun; it has been quite some time since we were able to walk and speak alone like this. In these moments I am not a servant and she is not the eldest daughter of a lord. I inquire about her lessons with Eduard.

  “Oh, Nevena, they’re simply wonderful. I’ve never known such a flood of knowledge and power and beauty. It’s as if some great store of learning has split open above me and showered me with secrets older than our realm. Eduard is amazing.”

  “Indeed, he’s unlike any other man, highborn or low, I’ve ever met.”

  “I’m sure your duties as red shadow must hardly seem work at all, being by his side every day. Tell me, do you ever tire of them?

  “Of what?”

  “His eyes. They move through colors I didn’t know could exist. After every lesson I sit and talk with him, and I try to get him to talk to me about them, but it’s one secret he’s no intention of losing. At least not yet.”

  At this last I turn to her, and now I see. I see it in her hands and her cheeks. I see it in the smile parting her face and the trembling of her shoulders. It’s in the way her strides have changed. She is in love with Eduard. My truest friend is in love with the man I love.

  “I’m truly at peace with him, Nevena,” Delara continues. “I see in him a new future, a bright promise of something more, everything more. You well know I’ve never had an eye for suitors; marriage always seemed to me a plague on independence and I was essentially saved by my having magic. So it’s ironic that the thing which offered to save me from marriage turned to become the thing which makes a good marriage possible.”

  “Possible?” I ask. “You mean to marry him?”

  “Certainly. Haven’t you noticed the small happenings around you, sweet girl? I was the one who asked my father to extend Eduard’s stay with us. I procured his new chambers when he expressed to me during our lesson that he wished to see the mountains. Indeed, it was I who encouraged father to invite him to Moerdra Castle. And mine was the vote that cast you as Eduard’s red shadow.”

  For a moment I am speechless. Without meaning to, I’ve stopped walking and I find myself staring at Delara. Could she truly have been so cunning without any of us noticing? Has she truly done so much?

  “But how?” I ask. “Why?”

  “When I had him invited it was innocent, purely for the increase of my magic and my command of myself. But from the first night I was changed. Not just the magic, but the man. I wish you to give me luck, sweet girl. I mean to ask him tonight.”

  Delara takes my hand and starts me walking again, but I travel the rest of the way in utter shock. I am also afraid: what will become of her heart when Eduard turns her down? I swallowed hard at the thought of the alternative.

  We reach the Walk of the Fallen and the Fingers of the Almighty stand waiting at the far end of the chamber. They are short, thin, black-haired men, clothed in the long green and gray robes of their rank. They seem identical; traditionally the Fingers have been composed of the diminutive people of the Tein, where they live in trees hundreds of feet tall. It is said that their people have amassed an unparalleled knowledge of healing over the last thousand centuries. Upon seeing Delara they begin to move toward us, but they make no sound. Not one single noise. Upon a nearby table they have laid out all manner of instruments for my examination - some are glowing, some seem sharp enough to cut the sky, and one strange curved thing is moving of its own will. If I was not frightened before, I am now.

  “I greet you in the light of the Almighty. Your summons was and is a tremendous pleasure to us, my lady,” says the tallest of the men. “I am Baehren, a middle finger and the leader of this humble group.”

  “I greet you in the light of the Almighty. If there is pleasure here it is for the House of Eaynfall. You have not graced our halls for far too long. We are humbled to know you still hold Moerdra Castle in such high esteem. We thank you for your call.”

  “We should never again hold honor if we had not come at once. Now, we have already examined you and your family, but I understand you’ve one more charge for us?”

  “Yes. This is Nevena, our most devoted and cherished servant. She has complained of troubled sleep, strange dreams from which a voice travels and lingers after waking. Likely nothing at all, but as she is dear to us we wish her examined by a most trusted eye.”

  “Trouble or no, we will treat as one of your own house, my lady.”

  Baehren greets me and takes me by my elbow to the bed beside the table laden with tools.
I lay down and he gives me a tonic. The drinks burns as hot as fire at first and I almost choke, but then it is like ice inside of me. And then I am falling and floating and soaring and drowning until finally the substance reaches the end of its journey and I am in the bed again.

  “I know it is a strange sensation when one first tastes of this tonic, but I assure you it is necessary and most helpful.”

  I nod my head and try to calm myself. It helps when Delara comes to hold my hand. Baehren comes again, holding that thing which looks sharper than any blade should be.

  “My girl, we’ve three ladies among our number should you wish it.”

  “That would be most welcome, sir. I thank you.”

  One of the little figures comes over and I see that it is a woman whose hair has fallen down around her face. As she pushes it back up, I can see she is rather pretty. The green and gray of her robes is the perfect complement to the green and gray of her eyes.

  “I greet you in the light of the Almighty. I am Marciason. I am a thumb.”

  She begins to feel over me and Delara continues to hold my hand. Some moments pass and then the door to the Walk is opened. It is little Lady Thea; even at her young age, she is already widely deemed the most beautiful girl in the Hundred Kingdoms.

  “I greet you all in the light of the Almighty,” comes her pretty voice. “Delara, mother wishes to see you.”

  “Oh, just now? I daren’t leave Nevena until her examination is complete.”

  “Mother said I was to insist. I could ask her if she might reconsider.”

  “No, I suppose I must go. Nevena, will you manage? I can arrange to have Ciraa sought out for you.”

  “It’s quite alright, my lady. And I suppose Ciraa has work to be attending to. I’m sure I shall manage.”

  “Very well, but know that I’ll find you as soon as I am able. I wish you well, sweet girl.”

  Delara presses my hand once more to her lips and leaves. Thea offers me a smile and follows her.

  “I assure you, dear girl, I’ll not cause you fatal harm for at least a quarter of an hour yet.”

  I turn to Marciason and see she is smiling. I smile, too. But then her face changes into a most disturbed expression. She finds my eyes and then looks down again. She is watching my wrist. I look down and see that the tracks of my veins are now yellow, almost gold. All along and up my arm I can see the meandering tubes brightly, strangely colored. I can see it in my other arm as well. I can also feel it. It is hot and then cold, weightless and then crushing. It must be the tonic. It is all I can do to keep from screaming. I turn to Marciason, who is still wide-eyed beside me.

  “What have you done to me?” I charge her.

  This accusation appears to wake her from her shock, for she raises a slender hand over my arm and moves it in small, gentle circles in the air. I begin to writhe as the stuff in my veins expands and reacts to whatever it is Marciason is doing. The heat is volcanic, the cold freezing. And before I realize what has happened I’m floating and all the Fingers have surrounded me to make the same motions as Marciason. I am suspended in the air in agony and then, in an instant, serenity. I drift back down to the table and my body is fine. More than fine. I feel extraordinary, better than I did before. But my clothes feel different. Tighter, stiffer. I look down at my arms and I see that what was once yellow is now white. And my clothes aren’t merely different. They’re frozen. And yet my body is normal.

  “What was that tonic?” I ask, to no one in particular. “What did you give me?”

  “T’was not the tonic that caused this. It was your own power, Your Grace.”

  It is Baehren who has spoken and now he is kneeling beside the bed. The other Fingers are kneeling as well. I sit up like a bolt.

  “What are you doing? Why do you bow to a servant girl?”

  “Your Grace,” says Baehren, raising his head, “You are no servant girl.”

  “What?” I ask, totally confused.

  “You are the Winter Queen,” says Marciason. “Almighty, we should’ve known it by your white hair, but we believed you dead. It was your own magic that acted just now. The tonic we gave you is for ordinary people. It’s nearly lethal to persons possessed of magic. That is why it turned yellow in your veins and began to heat. It was the powerful winter magic in your blood that fought it out and that floated you just now.”

  I am silent. I want to speak, to scream, to tell these people kneeling down to me that they’ve lost their minds, but I realize now that I’ve been caught. My secret has been exposed: they know I have magic.

  “Don’t look at us so distrustfully, Your Grace,” says Baehren. “If you wish us to be silent on this matter until you’re ready for ascension, you have only to command it.”

  “Allow me to find you new clothes, Your Grace,” Marciason says. “You seem to have frozen those.”

  This is more than I can bear. I leap from the bed and dash toward the door. This is madness, and any talk of ascension is tantamount to treason. I am fleeing for the door, for my life, and I stop. Something Baehren said strikes home. I turn back to them.

  “Do not speak of this,” I demand, without the due submission of a servant girl to a Finger of the Almighty.

  “As you command,” says Baehren.

  “As you command,” Marciason echoes.

  I flee.

  Chapter 4

  Some hours later, I am carrying two cups of wine to the Lord’s Place where Eduard is seated beside Lord Jacob. They have become fast friends. I deliver a cup to each man.

  “Thank you, Nevena,” says Lord Jacob. “I’m so pleased to see you so well placed as Eduard’s red shadow. He tells me your service has been most attuned and invaluable.”

  “Thank you for such compliments, my lord. And I owe thanks to Eduard as well. He does me a great service by speaking so highly of me.”

  “You do the House of Eaynfall a great service by protecting our name. We are most proud of you. Now, Eduard you must excuse me, as I see the Prince of Ssiss here tonight.”

  Lord Jacob rises and leaves. I take my place behind Eduard. He reaches a hand back to hold my leg just above the knee. It is often all he can manage, being surrounded by such numbers of people, but it is enough to help calm me. He whispers without turning his head.

  “My love, you have been oddly silent since you came to me tonight. What has trouble you today? What is it that has harmed and made one so beautiful so reticent?”

  “Something I don’t understand. I need you, Eduard.”

  “I’m here. Even if I can’t face you, even if we must pretend, I’m here. They won’t be able to hear us from so far away. Tell me what bothers you.”

  “They told me I was some kind of Queen. The Fingers of the Almighty. They kneeled before me and tried to make me believe there was something in my blood. Something called winter magic.”

  “But of course, I have said the same to you, have I not?” his voice echoes in my mind.

  I shake my head, “It was nothing but a term of endearment, a lover’s title surely.”

  “My sweet Nevena, it is of course not simply a term of love. But how could I have been so foolish? I didn’t think of it when you told me about your examination, but it makes sense. Not knowing you possessed magic, they gave you that tonic. Of course, being the Winter Queen, your blood protected you and defeated what it saw as a threat. Did you freeze your clothes?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Your body would’ve given off freezing air when healing itself from so great a danger.”

  “I don’t under-“

  I am instantly silent as Bronden approaches to offer Eduard more fish. Even as he speaks to Eduard he cuts his eyes to the left corner of the Open Chamber, where Chelle stands, waiting for her next order and smiling back at him. Eduard declines and Bronden leaves.

  “I don’t understand,” I continue. “I am no Queen and how could I possibly produce magic that powerful? I have only managed tricks, small feats of illusion that you have
taught me. And still, it takes long hours of practice to master each spell.”

  “No Queen? Why, I tell you that you are a Queen every day. And not just that, but the Winter Queen. You are no mere sorceress. The magic in you is old and it is strong. One day you will understand and you will access it, and I pity the mountebank conjurer who attempts to stop you. You are changing, Nevena. But I am here and I always shall be. You will face nothing alone, my precious girl.”

  I am calmed by his words. I have a building desire to kiss him, hold him, lead him by the hand to our bed beside the fire and make love to him until one of us floats the entire castle from its foundations. Just as I’ve mounted my courage enough to risk a kiss, I see Delara and Lady Katrina approaching. It is hard to tell who is smiling brighter: Delara or her mother. They seem in incredibly high spirits about something.

  “Eduard,” begins Lady Katrina, “I have been known for years as a woman who is sometimes rather forward. In recent days I like to believe I’ve made great strides in rectifying that, but tonight I am too joyous for patience. Delara has made it known to her father and myself that she wishes to marry you. We have considered this and we have accepted.”

  I’ve been told that in the old days it was the man who made the proposal of marriage, but since a time before my age, conventions have shifted and so proposal is now the woman’s task. It seems Delara has become so eager that she has ignored the one thing that has never changed: both parties are to be of one mind before an official proposition is brought to either’s family.

  “I’ll say no more. It would serve all far better if I left you to what I’m sure is the most intimate of discussions.”

  Lady Katrina takes her leave. Delara is watching Eduard with the biggest, most hopeful eyes I have ever seen. She has no conception of being declined. I love her and pity her.

  “So,” she begins, “Eduard Fenraden, known throughout the land by that powerful sobriquet, Grandestor, mighty sorcerer of the age and land, will you have me?”