Of Ice and Shadows

by Audrey Coulthurst

  Every muscle in my body protested as I stood up, but I gritted my teeth. There was only one answer: We needed help. And a lot of it. I had to find a way to send word for my brother’s cavalry. I started asking around to see if anyone had Farspeech. Mostly I got weary shakes of the head, or the occasional anecdote about a family member who’d had it several generations back.

  Down near the stream, several people, including Alek, were splitting logs and passing them to couriers who took them to stoke fires around the camp. As I drew closer, it was easy to see that Alek wasn’t the bottomless well of strength I saw him as. From the trembling in his arms, he’d worked his way past the point of exhaustion since we’d fought our way out of the city.

  “No fires after dusk,” he said, repeating the refrain to every person who took wood from him. Of course he’d thought of that. This wasn’t his first time in an encampment or a battle. It was mine.

  “Alek,” I said, waiting for him to pause in his task long enough for me to interrupt him.

  He turned to me, ready to hand me an armload of wood like everyone else.

  “Mare.” He was clearly surprised to see me. “I thought you were going to rest.”

  “I can’t,” I said.

  He gave me an appraising look I couldn’t quite decipher. “Bethla, can you take over for me?” he asked a woman nearby whose biceps looked like they were up to the task. “I’ll be back to relieve you in a little while.”

  She nodded, took the ax from him, and soon fell into a rhythm like all the others.

  Alek walked toward the stream nearby.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I thought you were behind any of this.” If we’d ever managed to talk to each other, maybe we could have worked together to stop it instead of being too late. “Eronit and Varian deserved more benefit of the doubt, too.”

  “Varian and Eronit were at the Winter Court to try to uncover a conspiracy among their own people,” Alek said. “They were too late.”

  “If they were there to stop a conspiracy, why were they getting paperwork for more false Sonnenborne businesses?” I asked. That had always bothered me.

  “They were copies of the paperwork, not originals. Evidence, not licensing. Eronit and Varian were working to undermine some of the other tribes that had been participating in human trafficking. They hoped their research would prove to the other tribes that adding Zumordan blood to their tribes was not going to reintroduce magic to their land and reverse the drought.”

  I swore. “That’s what the other tribes believe?” It was even worse than what Kriantz had been planning to do with me.

  “A large portion of the kingdom holds that belief. There were already rumors of it back when I worked near the border years ago, but apparently those factions have become louder and more dogmatic. Sonnenborne archeologists apparently discovered evidence that their kingdom wasn’t always a desert. This gave rise to theories that something had abruptly shifted and caused magic to vanish from the land. When it did, the desert began to spread. So now they believe the only way to restore magic to the kingdom is to breed it back in.”

  “That’s why they abducted those young people from Duvey,” I said, horrified.

  Alek nodded. “They took Zephyr Landing for the resources, but they’ve been moving into Zumorda with the intention of taking its people as well as its resources.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” I asked.

  “What does a Mynarian care about Zumorda?” he scoffed.

  “I care about the Sonnenbornes hurting people,” I said. “And I care about being on the wrong side of a fight.”

  He crouched at the edge of the stream and rinsed his hands and arms in the icy water. “I can respect that,” he finally said. He eyed my sword and shook his head. “I’m sorry about what happened in the salle with that sword. I shouldn’t have attacked you like I did.”

  “Why would you feel bad for doing that?” I asked. His purpose there had largely been to teach us how to beat the tar out of each other.

  “It wasn’t constructive. That weapon . . .” He trailed off.

  I tilted my head and waited for him to continue.

  “I enchanted that weapon to be a teacher,” he explained. “It fills in the gaps in a trainee’s knowledge and gives its bearer the ability to move like a master sword fighter. I never should have made that cursed thing.”

  “That’s incredible,” I said. No wonder the blade behaved like it did. I was about to ask why Laurenna had given it to me, but then an inkling of an idea crept in that Alek confirmed with his next words.

  “A long time ago I was in training with Laurenna. Both of us hoped to become guardians.” He swirled his hand in the stream, seemingly impervious to the cold. “We grew up in the same slum, fought side by side, and went to Corovja together to train. Before we went, we swore that nothing would ever come between us.”

  I knew already that this story didn’t have a happy ending.

  “Laurenna took to Corovja and to politics like a fish to water. I didn’t. She tried to help me understand, but I couldn’t fathom why people enjoyed talking about things more than they enjoyed doing things. I wanted to get my hands dirty, to make a difference. She grew frustrated.” He stood up and started walking back toward the camp.

  “So you made this sword?”

  “I worried for her—that she spent so much time studying magic and politics that she wouldn’t be able to defend herself from physical attacks. So I bought the finest blade I could afford and spent the winter weaving spells into it. I gave it to her the day I asked her to marry me.”

  My jaw nearly hit the ground. “You were going to marry Laurenna?”

  “I asked her to give up training and to go home with me. We were powerful enough to make our own life, or to move through the Winter Court at the lower levels. We could have had influence that way. But she took the sword, and then she said no. Only then did I realize how power hungry she’d become. It was a while longer before the Eusavka battle, when I left guardian training for good, but things had already begun to fall apart before then.”

  “So she gave this sword to me to hurt you,” I said.

  “And to make me resent you, and to remind me of my place,” he said. “No matter. The past between me and Laurenna is long buried—especially since it appears my theory about her being responsible for the disappearances was wrong. And the sword is yours.”

  “It saved my life today,” I said. I wasn’t nearly foolish enough to take credit for half the fighting I’d done getting out of Kartasha.

  “I wish we could have saved more,” he said, clearly thinking of the wagon trains that were no doubt now bound for Sonnenborne.

  “We have to do something about this,” I said. “We have to call for reinforcements.”

  Alek nodded. “You’re right.”

  “What?” I said, confused by his ready agreement.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself.” He put his hand in the water again and breathed a long sigh of relief.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Borrowing some energy,” he said.

  “Ah.” No wonder the Zumordans seemed so tireless. Many of them must be doing what he was—borrowing some power from the land.

  “Here’s how I can help,” I said. “My brother offered cavalry to Zumorda for the fight against Sonnenborne long before we knew this was how things would unfold. They’re stationed just across the border. We need more bodies. We need cavalry.” I couldn’t help but think how different the fight would have been today with a hundred riders on our side. “I just need to find a way to send a message.”

  Alek’s lips narrowed into a thin line. I could tell the thought of asking Mynarians for help didn’t sit well with him, but he was a shrewd tactician. He wasn’t going to be foolish about this. The important thing was to get Kartasha back before the Sonnenbornes’ hooks were in so deep it became impossible.

  “It seems to be the only choice,” he finally said.
“I might have a way to reach the cavalry through Wymund. He could send a neutral party across the border to contact them—there are usually a few traveling merchants who winter in Duvey.”

  “Might he be able to send reinforcements as well?” I asked.

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” Alek said.

  “Have you already spoken to Wymund since the riot?” I didn’t know Alek had any way of reaching him.

  Alek shook his head. “The enchantment I’ll use to contact him is for emergencies. It’ll work only once.”

  “If we can get them here, the cavalry will be under my command,” I said, and he gave me a sharp look. “But I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the expert. You’re the experienced fighter and strategist. We can take back this city, but we are going to have to work together. Help each other.”

  “The first thing we need to do is rescue Laurenna and Zhari,” Alek said. “With their powers on our side, our chances of taking the city back will increase dramatically. If they die, we may have an impossible battle ahead of us.”

  “We’ll get them out of there as soon as we can,” I said with more resolve than I felt. “But to do that, we may need backup. If something happens to us, we need to know that more people will be coming to rescue the city.”

  “I hate it when you’re right,” he said.

  “So do I,” I said, and we exchanged grim smiles.

  Even with our tentative truce in place, we had a lot of hard work ahead.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Dennaleia

  AS MUCH AS I TRIED TO PUT OUT OF MY MIND SIGVAR’S warning about Kartasha being attacked, it nagged at me from the moment I woke up on Midwinter morning. Queen Invasya was busy with final preparations for the Revel, leaving me unable to obtain any reassurance that things were as they should be in the south. I knew my worries were likely due only to nerves about the competition, so I took one final trip to the grand temple to pray and calm myself.

  Guests for the Revel began to file in as soon as the sun vanished behind the mountains. They seemed to come from all walks of life, and it was as if the entire city of Corovja had ascended to the palace. I hid in the wings of the stage that had been set up in the throne room and peered out to watch people arrive. They milled about in knots, accepting drinks and food from servers who wound through the room with practiced elegance. This aspect of the party was the same as the other royal functions I’d attended. Yet the room had a sense of restrained energy. I felt it myself, too, along with the nervousness humming in my bones. The Revel would determine the next steps of my future in Zumorda, and though I felt as ready as I could be for the competition itself, thanks to Sigvar’s advice and the queen’s support, uncertainty nagged at me about what would come after. The influx of guests eventually slowed as the noise level rose and the room filled nearly to capacity.

  I walked over to the vanity set up backstage. My hair had been styled into waves and gathered into an ornate knot in the back, as was the Zumordan fashion. I barely recognized myself. The stain on my lips hadn’t smudged, but the dark circles under my eyes were not especially becoming. All I could think was that Tristan and Evie should have been there with me, and instead it was my fault that I was alone, again.

  “Are all the competitors prepared?” the queen’s voice boomed through our small space.

  A chorus of yeses answered her, and no one seemed to notice that my voice had not been part of the group. It felt all wrong to be there without Tristan and Evie.

  “Eryk and Aela, you will be first,” she said. “Now we shall begin.” She strode out onto the stage in a sweep of white and silver skirts that trailed along the floor like a river behind her. “Good evening.” Her voice carried easily over the crowd. The silence that fell was both complete and energized.

  “Tonight the greatest young magic users in Zumorda will compete for your entertainment—and for their fates.” She gestured to the center of the stage before leaping off the edge. A shower of sparks trailed behind her, her long skirt shimmering out of existence until a sleek dress was revealed underneath. She alighted in the middle of the floor as the crowd parted around her, and two Swifts moved up to flank her in guard formation.

  The audience burst into applause and cheers that died down only as Eryk and Aela took the stage. Almost immediately, Eryk had Aela fighting something that only she could see, and her eyes were wild with fear. Her bubble-like shield of water shrank in on itself until the thin layer hovered barely an inch above her skin. Even though I’d be relieved to have her taken out of the running early, since her gift wasn’t one I could channel, it hurt to see someone suffer that way. A body crashed to the floor of the stage and a roar went up from the crowd. Aela had been defeated.

  My stomach clenched with nerves. I had to go up against Eryk next.

  I was summoned to the stage as soon as the mess from Eryk and Aela’s battle had been cleared away. From the opposite wing, Eryk shot me a cruel smile. I hated his magic, the way it could make me feel all inside out and upside down, like I didn’t even know my own name. Everything depended on my ability to shield strongly enough to keep him out of my head, since his spirit Affinity also wasn’t one I could channel. We took our places several paces away from each other, and Brynan gave us the signal to start.

  Eryk sketched a symbol in the air before I could even get a shield up. Immediately my psyche was flooded with memories of those I’d hurt. Tristan and Evie came first, but the memories consuming my mind quickly darkened as I was forced to remember the deaths I’d caused in Duvey and Mynaria. A wave of sadness hit me that was so consuming, it almost brought me to my knees. Defense wasn’t going to be enough, and I knew Eryk well enough to know that his psychological attacks would continue. I raised my hands and let magic flow into them, distracting him and the audience with a shield that emitted showers of bright sparks. He laughed at me, clearly assuming I’d forgotten that he rarely used more physical kinds of magic. Then I launched a plume of flame at him that set his jacket on fire—which apparently hadn’t been something he’d expected.

  Eryk screamed and dropped to the floor to roll, his magic’s hold on me fading. I took advantage of the opportunity and reached for earth magic—something else he wouldn’t anticipate from me. At my command, the wooden planks of the stage floor bent up and over him, binding him to the floor with his arms by his sides. Without the ability to make eye contact, he couldn’t use his gift as powerfully. He thrashed and jerked like a netted fish. I tightened the bonds on him until he could barely breathe and was finally forced to tap out. Even in defeat, his face was twisted in anger, and I knew if he had the opportunity, he’d be sure to make me pay for this later.

  I tried not to think about it, instead centering myself to face my final opponent: Ikrie.

  The crowd was already roaring when Ikrie faced off against me, creating dull white noise in the background that I tried to tune out. Unlike Eryk, she knew well enough not to attack straight out of the gate. She knew I could channel her powers, and she wasn’t going to give me the chance to do it if she could help it.

  “I suppose you think you’re highborn now that you’ve got a few wins under your belt,” she said, pitching her voice so only I could hear.

  I didn’t respond, because I knew it was part of her game. She’d picked it up from Eryk—the knack for getting under someone’s skin. If she couldn’t use magic to do it, she’d use words.

  I flicked my hand and sent a shower of sparks cascading over her, hoping to trick her into striking at me. Instead, she just laughed.

  “Is that all you have? Has working for someone weak and useless taught you to be the same?” Ikrie circled around me, carefully adding threads of magic to her whirling shield of air and sealing them away from my influence or control.

  Her disparaging comment about Mare hit a nerve, as did the reminder of my false station. I tried not to let it show even as the heat of anger burned its way into my cheeks.

  Let your anger help you, a voice spoke softly in
side my mind.

  Ikrie took advantage of my moment of distraction and struck, using her air magic to hurl an ornamental vase from the edge of the stage directly into my head. I barely dodged the blow. In retaliation, I pushed my fire shield away from me in a wide circle, hoping she would run into my defense and hurt herself so that I wouldn’t have to hurt her.

  Don’t hold back, the voice said seductively. It was hard not to listen.

  “Is that what you call an attack?” Ikrie said. She launched her own onslaught at me, forcing me to pull my shields in close to protect myself from the blades of air she hurled across the stage. “You’re just as useless as any other Mynarian, and too afraid of your powers to even use them.”

  Anger ate at me, my gift churning through my body, begging to be used.

  Do it.

  “Why don’t you go back to being a maid?” Ikrie said.

  My control snapped. But this time it wasn’t the control of my powers; it was only the control of my emotions, which demanded that I strike her down for what she was saying. The queen’s gift opened up pathways, showing me what I could do to destroy Ikrie. I walked toward her, no longer afraid and no longer trying to hold myself back.

  Ikrie flung attacks at me that bounced harmlessly off my fire shield until I got close. Then I started absorbing the magic so that with every blow she landed on me, my strength became greater. Still, she didn’t back down, and soon we stood almost nose to nose at the center of the stage.

  “You have no idea who I am,” I said, and gave myself over to my power.

  Fire closed in around Ikrie until she was trapped in an inferno. Her air magic served only to fuel the flames, and soon the heat brought her to her knees.

  Hurt her, the voice in my mind said. Show her your strength.

  I stood over her and reached through the fires I’d constructed around her. They tingled on my skin, harmless to me. I let my hand close around her throat, feeling my palm rage with heat. Ikrie’s scream split through the cheers of the audience. Still, she did not tap out. She thrashed in my hand, struggling to get back to her feet. It was futile.