Cold Iron

by Stina Leicht

  On the other side of the room Jenna paused, an upset expression on her face. She was a solemn, skinny girl of seventeen with red hair and freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks.

  Watch your language, Nels thought. You’ve offended the very last maid in the entire palace. “Ah, thank you, Jenna. For heating the bath.”

  Jenna nodded. “There’s—there are fresh clothes laid out for you, Your Grace.” She resumed tucking the bedclothes under the edge of the bedstead.

  His wounds had stung like mad when he’d first gotten into the water. The cut across his abdomen looked angry and red. Upon seeing it, Viktor had threatened to send for Westola, but Nels told him it could wait one more night. Westola needed the rest. They all did.

  “Will you be requiring anything else?” Jenna asked.

  “No. Thank you,” Nels said. He kept expecting to see people who were probably dead—his former nurse, his valet, the housekeeper, all the maids who used to stand waiting in the hallways with downcast eyes as he passed. People whose presence he’d been trained not to notice. Now that they were truly gone, it was impossible to ignore their absence. The palace was different. Empty. It was downright disconcerting. Mother is dead. Except for the initial reaction long before Gardemeister, he’d lodged the information in a compartment within his skull that he couldn’t access. Strangely, her death hadn’t seemed real until this moment. He wanted to mourn her but found he couldn’t. It was as if those feelings were buried too deep. You’re not alone, anyway. You’re in the palace. You’re always watched in this place. He didn’t have a shield. Not like Suvi. Of course, he had better control than she did. Always had. Still, he couldn’t count on the contents of his head being his own. Not here.

  “I’m sorry there’s no one to help you dress for supper, Your Grace.”

  “I’ve learned quite a bit since I left. I’m sure Lieutenant Reini will be more than happy to assist if I have difficulty remembering how to fasten a button.”

  “Bugger that,” Viktor said from his chair by the fire. “Do it yourself or go naked.”

  “Dinner will be casual,” Nels said. “Suvi won’t mind.”

  Viktor snorted. “But what will the king say?”

  “Ah, well,” Nels said. “I suppose I can always send for the royal gardener for help.”

  Jenna coughed.

  He’s dead, Nels thought. You idiot! Shit!

  Confusion etched worry lines between her brows and around her eyes. “Your—Your Grace? I’m sorry. The gardener—”

  “I apologize,” Nels said. “Please don’t pay any attention to me.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” And with that, she rushed out the door.

  Mentally cursing himself again, Nels climbed out of the bath and dried off.

  Viktor assisted with the fresh bandage but waited until Nels was mostly dressed before saying anything else. “I understand your need to make light of the impossible, but that was going a bit far, even for you.”

  “I hate this place. I hate what it makes me into.” It wasn’t only that, Nels knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to put his real feelings into words. His mother was dead. His father was apparently in some sort of mental state. His sister was running the country with two council members and a butler. He was in charge of an army that consisted of five hundred and twenty-three soldiers, four cannon, and whatever armaments were fixed to the outer walls of Jalokivi. Most of the city was dead of variola, and the Acrasians were on their way with more troops, ships, and cannon than he’d probably ever seen in his life.

  And everyone will expect me to do something about it.

  “You’re terrified,” Viktor said. “I am too.”

  “That’s not it at all.”

  “Sure it is.” Viktor gazed into the fire. “I don’t have to be a shield to know what you’re feeling. Your eyes keep changing from gray to white.”

  “Shit,” Nels said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Jenna doesn’t know any better. And I’m the only one in the company who notices such things.” Gloom penetrated Viktor’s humor, and for a moment, Nels saw just how young Viktor really was.

  He’s only nineteen. Like me. It stunned Nels to remember that three birthdays had come and gone since he’d left home. I’ll make a mess of this. I make a mess of everything I touch.

  The Acrasians will be here soon. What am I going to do? Throw rocks and sticks at them? We can’t even resort to harsh language! No one speaks Acrasian but me!

  Viktor continued. “Until now, all of us could pretend nothing mattered—the war, the plague. We could imagine that everything was going to be normal again once we got home. Well, it isn’t.” He’d scavenged a bottle of whiskey from somewhere. He uncorked it and took a huge swallow from it. “Nothing is the same. And it never will be.”

  “Give me some of that,” Nels said, reaching for the bottle. “I’ve a bad feeling I’m going to need it tonight.”

  Viktor didn’t move from his perch but stretched out his arm to bridge the gap. “I won’t be required to attend dinner, will I?”

  Nels crossed the room to retrieve the whiskey. He drank from the bottle and handed it back. “Not unless you want to. Why?”

  “I’d—I wish to check on my family. If you’re settled.”

  Oh, Hasta. What’s the matter with me? “Go. We’ll discuss it tomorrow. I need to meet with Suvi first.” And Father. “Then I have to think before any decisions are made. We have some time yet.”

  Viktor stood. “Should I leave the bottle?”

  “I can get more. Take it,” Nels said. “Go.”

  “One more thing,” Viktor said, snatching a folded letter from the mantel. “I don’t think anyone noticed this but me.”

  Nels accepted it and recognized Ilta’s handwriting on the outside. “Thanks.” He broke the wax seal and began to read.

  My dearest love,

  I took the liberty of sending Mrs. N home. I’ll be the only guest at your bunkhouse tonight. I hope you don’t mind my staying. The Commons Hospital simply isn’t an option.

  You should stay at the palace for a few days. We both have work to do, and you need time with your father and sister. I know you’re disappointed. I am too, but these talks you will have … they’re important. Remember you don’t have to forgive your father, but for Eledore’s sake you do have to listen. Your sister needs you. She can’t do what she needs to do without you. Try to see your experiences over the past few years in a positive light. There’s an advantage in approaching problems as you do.

  I love you. And I’ll see you soon.

  Ilta

  Nels thought, Advantage? What is she talking about?

  Viktor threw open the door, stopped, and stepped aside. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

  “Good evening,” Suvi said, entering the room.

  She was wearing a formal green velvet gown with a purple ribbon stitched onto one sleeve. Spotting that splash of purple, Nels realized he didn’t possess any mourning colors. He certainly wasn’t wearing any. In fact, were it not for the clean pair of uniform trousers Jenna had somehow scavenged, he wouldn’t have been wearing soldier’s black, either.

  Nels found himself checking for Piritta, but she was nowhere in sight. He folded Ilta’s letter and hid it in his pocket. “Am I late for dinner already?”

  “We have about an hour,” Suvi said. “This came for you.” She handed him a sealed message.

  Viktor gave him a questioning look.

  “Are you still here?” Nels motioned for Viktor to leave and then opened the note. It was from Overlieutenant Larsson, informing him that the Narrows had escaped most of the damage, and that the troops were bunked down for the night. She’d added a note that Mrs. Nimonen would have his barracks house ready for him along with a cold supper. She’s alive. Thank Hasta.

  “What is that about?” Suvi asked.

  Nels didn’t look up from the report. “You’re going to tell me you don’t already know?”

  “We
need to talk.”

  “I know.”

  “Before dinner.” She paused.

  “Do we talk here, in the maze, or will this require the lake?” His uniform jacket was gone. He assumed Jenna had thrown it in the scrap bin or, more likely, burned it. Laid out in its place on the bedstead was an old jacket of his father’s. Ramming his arms into it, he discovered it was too big across the middle and the sleeves were too short. Perfect. He felt ridiculous. He decided to show up for dinner in shirtsleeves. Mother isn’t here to care, anyway. “I warn you. This is the only pair of clean ­uniform trousers I have left. And I’ve no idea where Jenna found them. So, if you’re planning on attempting to drown me, let me change back into my own first.”

  “This is serious.”

  “I am being serious.”

  “Sure you are.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Get your boots on. Let’s go.”

  He did as she directed, grabbed the jacket in case he’d have need of it, and then followed her into their father’s wing of the palace. Suvi stopped just short of the king’s rooms and took a right turn. Not far from there, Piritta stood waiting by a polished black walnut door. Glancing over her shoulder, Suvi placed a finger to her lips. He shrugged in answer. Suvi produced a key, turned the lock, and waited until he entered. Piritta gave him a wave good-bye before shutting the door behind him.

  The room’s paneling was painted a light gray, and the floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains were deep blue. Books crowded the walls and a large wooden desk was positioned in the center of the room. Once untidy and half-buried in papers, it was now pristine. The rest of the room was furnished with a few padded chairs and end tables. All had been stripped of personal possessions. The only remaining evidence of their previous owner was a lingering scent of pipe smoke and amber cologne.

  “This is Uncle Sakari’s study,” Nels said.

  Suvi grinned. “Can you think of a better place to meet?”

  “Why isn’t Piritta here?”

  Suvi shrugged. “She makes you uncomfortable—”

  “She doesn’t—”

  “It’s not like she doesn’t know. She’s a shield, Nels. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you alone,” Suvi said. Her grin faded to a faint smile. “And the likelihood of anyone attempting to overhear us in this place is low.”

  “What in all the hells has been going on here?” He dropped the jacket over the back of an overstuffed chair.

  “Sit,” she said. “This is going to take a while.” And then she began to explain.

  With a shudder, Nels soon discovered his twin sister had changed a great deal in the past year.

  THREE

  A quarter of an hour late for dinner, Nels and Suvi still reached the dining room before their father did. Nels felt even more exhausted than before and yet knew there was no possibility of sleep. Not tonight. Not after everything Suvi said. To make matters worse, his emotions were a tangled knot in the hindmost part of his brain. He needed time alone to sort out the frayed ends but knew that was impossible.

  Piritta entered the dining room and completed a circuit around the table before Suvi assumed her place.

  Especially not in the palace, he repeated to himself. Not even under these circumstances.

  When he was small, he liked to hide in the deepest, most forgotten cupboards. His nurse fetched him from them time and again, and time and again, she’d asked why he was so determined to cover himself in dust, dirt, and cobwebs. He had never answered her questions. At age three, it was too difficult to verbalize complicated feelings, but he’d always known why. Which in itself was odd when he thought about it. It was ironic that his eyes persistently gave him away to those who knew him best, yet his twin had the opposite problem.

  Suvi sat at the far end of the table, leaving him the seat directly across from her. It was then that he registered the porcelain had been laid out for three, not four. Again, he felt as if someone had gut punched him. All his wadded-up emotions threatened to pour down his cheeks. Mother, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry I never thanked you for all you did for me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you one last time. His throat closed. A painful lump formed that he couldn’t swallow. Blinking, he again forced his grief from the surface where it’d be too easily accessed.

  Memories of his father’s voice surfaced. Get control of yourself at once, boy! Don’t you cry!

  All three place settings were positioned close, near the head of the table where his father had always sat.

  The easier for him to lecture me on my many shortcomings, I suppose. Nels cleared his throat. The pain lodged there budged enough for him to croak, “After dinner, I’ll go back to my quarters in the Narrows.” He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stay. No matter what Ilta thought, there was nothing left in the palace for him. Suvi was capable of handling things.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Suvi said. “Why not?”

  “You damned well know why.”

  “After everything that’s happened. After everyone who has”—she hesitated and then lowered her voice—“died here. Your sleeping in the palace one night isn’t going to contaminate the building,” she said. “At least, no more than it already has been.”

  He opened his mouth to argue when he heard the black walnut pocket doors behind him slide open. Taking a cue from Suvi, he got to his feet and nearly gasped out loud when his father walked past.

  That isn’t Father. It can’t be.

  The change in the king was dramatic. He’d aged twenty years since Nels had seen him last. Was it really only a year ago? The king’s hair was heavily streaked with gray, and his square shoulders were rounded as if in defeat. The wrinkles in his forehead were drawn deeper, and the skin around his jawline sagged. His eyelids, upper and lower, were puffy as if he hadn’t slept in a very long time. He appeared to have shrunk as well. His finery hung off of him in baggy folds.

  The king’s worn face finally registered Nels’s presence. Nels prepared himself for the sharp comment. Instead, he was gratified by a rapid flicker of shock white in his father’s eyes.

  Suvi resumed her place after their father sat, and replaced her napkin in her lap. “Good evening, Papa. How are you feeling this evening?”

  The tone was so like his mother’s that Nels blinked. He found he couldn’t release the breath he was holding. He dreaded what was to come. His father hadn’t spoken to him directly since that day in the chapter house. Defect. You are not my son. The hot knot in Nels’s throat seeped into his skull, and his eyes stung. Stop this, he thought. Can’t you see he isn’t worth it? Nels didn’t understand why he was so angry and disappointed—why he felt cheated. The towering figure who had made his childhood a misery had been reduced to a weak old man. There would be no honor in attacking him or facing him down. There was nothing left to fight. Rage flooded Nels’s chest and set his teeth against each other. He didn’t think he could tolerate staying in the room for an instant longer. His muscles bunched, making ready to flee.

  No! I will not run from him. I won’t. Not again. Not ever again. Then Nels closed his eyes and bit down on his emotions until the moment passed. All this in the time it took for his father to settle into the ornately carved dining room chair with a prim napkin in his lap.

  “I’m well enough,” the king said. Even his voice had aged.

  “Nels is here, Papa,” Suvi said.

  “I’m not blind,” the king said, his tone neutral. “I’m not feeble, either.”

  Nels swallowed a retort. It killed his appetite at once.

  “Yes, Papa. I know,” she said. “I only wanted to—”

  The king turned from her and faced him. “You’re alive.” The king’s eyes captured his. No anger or dismissal lurked there—no relief either. His expression, once tired, was now carefully blank, and his eyes were a formidable black.

  Searching again for a giant there, Nels found only a phantom. Without the challenge, he wasn’t sure how to react. “I am.”

  His father paused
and then asked, “How long do you plan to stay?”

  Not certain how much Suvi had told their father, Nels settled on a less personal answer. “The army will winter in Jalokivi.” It suddenly occurred to him that he wasn’t asking permission. He’d never dared such a thing in his life. There! How will you react to that, old man?

  Valterri, the butler, lifted the silver cover from the main dish. The scent of roasted meat wafted from the tray.

  Nels’s mouth watered, and his stomach let out a loud rumble. How long has it been since I’ve had a real meal? Still, the emotions nesting in his gut blunted his appetite.

  “Of course, the army should remain,” his father said. “You are right in planning to do so.”

  Nels blinked.

  “The fortifications should be sound.” His father waited while Valterri laid a meager portion of roasted elk on his plate. “Suvi and I conducted an inspection in preparation for your arrival.”

  Valterri continued on to Suvi. Dishes and silver chimed as more food was served.

  “She tells me there should be sufficient cannon and ammunition to protect the walls from attack until the first snow,” his father said.

  Any hope of a reply evaporated in Nels’s throat. He’s given ground? Twice? Why? The father he’d left behind was not interested in fortifications or ammunition. Silence stretched across the room like a rope drawn over a canyon. Vigilant for a fresh slight, Nels waited for the signal that the old war between them would resume.

  When Suvi was done serving herself, she glanced up at Nels and mouthed, Well? Go on. Talk to him. Now.

  “I have yet to perform a complete inspection myself, sir,” Nels said. Upon hearing his own voice, he understood his words sounded too much like a reproach. “I-it would be helpful to see them firsthand. To know exactly what I have to work with.” He felt more awkward than he had in a long time. “No doubt the cannon Suvi commandeered from the navy will make a defense much easier.” He spoke to Suvi, since she had taken charge of the navy and its assets. “I hope you didn’t confiscate all the navy’s guns. They must defend our access to the western Sininen River and—”