by K. M. Shea
She finally risked it and peeked at Farrin. He was leaning against her cottage, a hint of an indulgent and wistful smile curling his lips. The slight furrow of his eyebrows and the light in his eyes, however, were saturated with gentle longing.
Unnerved, Rakel fixed her gaze on the ground and twitched her outer dress to give her hands something to do.
“The princess is awake?”
Rakel, hearing General Halvor’s voice, turned to him, grateful for the distraction. “General.”
General Halvor stopped in mid-step and stared at her for one moment, then directed his gaze to Phile. “Your work?”
Phile batted her eyes. “You don’t like it? How cruel, Halvor!”
“It isn’t practical,” General Halvor said.
Rakel peered down at her dress in worry and almost jumped when Phile whacked Halvor in the chest.
“Stop worrying, Captain Mother. A woman has to dress up occasionally, even in times of battle,” Phile said.
“Princess!” Oskar plowed his way through the crowd. “I am glad to hear you have awakened—and you look as fresh and lovely as new snow.”
The tightness eased in her shoulders, and she smiled. “Oskar.”
“Oh, I’m not alone—Sire?” Oskar stepped aside.
Steinar shuffled out from behind Oskar—Snorri in his shadow. When he saw Rakel, he smiled shyly. “Are you alright?” He hesitated and held out his arm for her to take.
A smile bloomed on Rakel’s lips. She was embarrassed but delighted with the attention—even if Farrin’s eyes made something twist in her—but seeing Steinar, her brother, hold out his arm to her, her joy bubbled over.
“Yes!” Rakel laughed and threw her arms around Steinar, hugging him. Steinar returned the gesture and wrapped his arms around her.
Several of the village women in the area cooed and clapped. “Siblings,” they said. “So much alike.”
Rakel stepped back and turned to General Halvor. “Phile told me the magic users are practicing together.”
“Yes, outside of Tana,” General Halvor said.
“I would like to observe them—I assume you have news to share?”
“Indeed—quite a bit of it,” Oskar said.
“To the practice area!” Phile declared.
The audience scattered, and General Halvor and Snorri turned to go, Steinar walking between them. Oskar followed after the trio, and Phile pounced on him, twining her arm around his waist as they trailed after them.
Rakel hesitated and turned to Farrin. “Will you come with us?”
He offered her a deep bow. “It would be my pleasure. Please, allow me to tell you how breathtaking you are.”
“Thank you,” Rakel said, some of the heat returning to her cheeks. Don’t be foolish, she chided. This is just because of the new dress. They ambled after the group, walking side by side. “Phile told me you guarded me while I slept. Thank you.”
“There is no need to thank me. You asked me to guard you, and I will,” Farrin said.
Rakel stubbornly shook her head. “No, you deserve to be thanked. I do not wish to take you for granted. Ever since discovering my price, I have dreaded it. Your presence changes that.”
“I am glad,” Farrin said.
They walked in silence. She was hyper aware whenever his arm brushed hers, and she was tempted to scoot away from him, but she suspected it would feel like a retreat, so she did her best to ignore the warmth he radiated. When they reached Tana’s ice walls, she asked, “Are you satisfied with your treatment—and the treatment of your underlings?”
“Yes,” Farrin said. “We have faced less censure than I imagined we would.”
“Phile said things have been tense, but not dire.”
“I agree. Although I must credit the response to General Halvor, and to King Steinar.”
Rakel felt a small smile bud on her lips. “He’s more important than you thought, isn’t he?”
“General Halvor? I was always aware he was the military mind behind your battles.”
“No, Steinar.”
Farrin was quiet as they left the village and followed the group to the flat field that stretched to the west of the village. “Meeting you has changed him,” he finally said. “Previously he was hopeless… Have you asked him yet why he kept you on Ensom?”
“No,” Rakel admitted.
“Ask.”
Rakel was about to press the matter when a gruff female voice shouted, “Get off me, you stupid bird!”
Rakel peeked past Farrin and saw his scout—the shapeshifter—storm up the field. Holding her hand was Cronius Winderbag.
Crow gave the shapeshifter a charming smile. “No. I intend to never part with you, precious!”
“If you don’t, I will gnaw your arm off.” The shapeshifter glowered.
“Don’t say that. The whole camp knows we will soon marry and have little crow hatchlings of our own.”
Rakel stared at the spectacle. The shapeshifter always seemed confident and controlled—if not a little rough and tumble. But now her ears were beet red, and her shoulders were hunched with embarrassment as she stomped around with Crow meandering in her trail.
“What happened?” Rakel asked.
“He caught sight of one of Bunny’s animal forms when I sent her off to spy,” Farrin said.
Phile joined their conversation—she had reluctantly been forced to part with Oskar, and now dragged Snorri behind her instead. “He’s taken quite a shine to her.”
“Why?” Rakel asked.
Snorri mumbled, and Phile elbowed him. “She can shift into a crow,” Snorri said—louder and more clearly.
“He’s been infatuated ever since,” Phile added.
Rakel considered the matter. “There is some humor to the situation,” she said.
“Some?” Phile snorted. “It’s been the best campsite entertainment since Knut lost five card games and had to dress up like a maid.”
At that moment, Bunny stopped to fix a Verglas magic user’s stance. “What?” she barked when she realized Crow was staring at her.
Crow gave an exaggerated, love-addled sigh. “I love me a strong woman.”
Bunny’s face twisted, and she turned on her heels and strode away from him.
Rakel glanced up at Farrin. “Do you think she’ll become annoyed enough to hurt him?”
“No,” Farrin said.
“If I could recruit Bunny—and Crow—for my guild, we could pull off many a pretty heist,” Phile said, rubbing her chin. “Of course, Bunny is female.”
“As are you,” Rakel pointed out.
“Yes, but if I want to rival you and have a group of handsome men around me, I need to strenuously recruit the male demographic. Hmm, say, Snorri, what plans do you have for your future after the war?”
“Army,” Snorri said, not at all fazed even though Phile leaned against him.
“We’ll see,” Phile said. She glanced at Farrin.
He raised his eyebrow. “Yes?”
“No, I’m not even going to bother asking you—though you would give us a dashing air!” Phile said.
Farrin didn’t say anything in response, but he gave Snorri a nod of respect.
Snorri sighed and returned the nod.
“Was that a wordless exchange of compliments?” Phile asked.
“Yes,” Snorri said.
Phile squawked and kept speaking, but Rakel’s attention was drawn to the practice field.
It was a beautiful sight to behold—all the different magic users sparring and fighting. Tollak was huddled with Bluff, showing him some sort of lightning rod. Ragnar was drilling a few of the Verglas magic users who were villagers and possessed no formal training. Big balls of fire were sure signposts for Frodi’s location…but…something about it bothered her.
It dug at the back of her mind, even though the sunshine felt warm and glorious on her face.
She lifted the hem of her dress—the underskirt was getting wet—and froze, taking another look at t
heir surroundings.
Loads of snow had fallen off the trees, and the sun felt stronger. Rakel knelt and rubbed the snow between her fingers. It wasn’t powdery or icy, but wet and heavy. Some of it was even slush. When a person walked, instead of producing a crisp crunch of snow, it was a moist, sloshy sound.
Spring. Rakel gritted her teeth. It’s almost here. I’m running out of time.
“Is everything alright?” Farrin asked.
“Yes,” Rakel said, although her forehead furrowed with worry. She tried to smile when she realized he, Phile, and Snorri were watching her with concern.
Snorri hesitated, then said, “We always have several thaws and freezes, Princess. It will get cold again.”
Rakel nodded and stood. “It is just a reminder that we need to end this invasion as rapidly as possible.”
“Princess!” Oskar called. “Please allow me to introduce you to the new magic users!”
Rakel smiled at her friends and hurried to join her attendant—though the knowledge of spring’s impending arrival gnawed at the back of her mind.
CHAPTER 11
FUN WITH PHILE
After Rakel’s awakening, Tana held celebrations for three nights in a row. The last of them was held outdoors with everyone crowded around warm fires, joking and singing songs. The celebrations went late into the night, and almost everyone in Tana attended them, rejoicing over the battle against Tenebris, and mourning the loss of the soldiers who died in combat.
Rakel repositioned Gerta’s knitted hat on her head as Knut played a song of mourning on a zither. “Gerta, Kai.” The pair was tucked under her arms like sleepy kittens. “It’s time for you to go to bed.”
“But I’m not sleepy,” Gerta insisted—even though her eyes were closed, and a patch of drool on Rakel’s dress marked where the little girl had lain her head.
Kai ran his hands through his already mussed hair. “Me either.”
Rakel smiled and hugged them closer. “Even so, you need to sleep.”
“No,” Kai protested.
Phile plopped down on a tree trunk positioned next to Rakel. “Come, children. We’ll carry you there.”
“Would you first sing us a lullaby, Princess?” Her eyes were wide and pleading.
“A lullaby?” Rakel said.
“A song to make us sleep,” Kai said.
“Some other time,” Rakel said.
“Why?” Gerta asked.
“Yes, why?” Phile wore a mischievous grin. “I too would love to hear the princess’s singing voice.”
Rakel chose to be blunt rather than mince around the topic. “I don’t know any lullabies.”
Gerta’s jaw dropped. “You don’t know any?”
Rakel placed her hand on top of Gerta’s head. “I’m afraid not.”
Phile sighed—a sound from deep within her soul. “King’s teeth, Little Wolf, I’m sorry. I always forget…”
Rakel offered her a smile. “It’s not your fault.”
A muscle in Phile’s jaw jumped. “No, but it still makes me angry.”
Rakel placed her hand on Phile’s shoulder and shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s different now—better than anything I could have dreamed of.”
Kai leaned into Rakel and peered up at Phile. “What are you mad about?”
Phile smoothed her face, letting a smile return to her lips that cast a warm glow on her olive-colored skin. “Nothing, children. Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?”
“Yes, please!” Gerta wriggled out from under Rakel’s hand and scurried to Phile’s side, almost tripping in her eagerness.
“I only know songs from Baris. This one my mother sang to me when I was a wee thief. It’s about sand and stars and tales that never end,” Phile said.
The children wiggled in anticipation.
Phile started humming. The song was lower pitched than Rakel would have imagined, but Phile sounded lovely as her smooth voice danced up and down while the logs in the fire crackled.
Rakel leaned back, warm with contentment as she listened to Phile and watched her friends and comrades in arms seated around the fire. Farrin stood nearby, listening—with a subtly amused expression—as Topi and Snorri discussed spying techniques with Bunny and Crow. Steinar sat next to General Halvor, and the two were deep in discussion with Pordis—the merchant guildmaster of Glowma who had arrived with a supply caravan that day.
She scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar head of brilliant red hair and a charming smile. He was standing in the shadows, fixing his cloak, so she almost missed him.
Instead of his usual smile, his face was lined with grief. “Oskar?” Rakel murmured. He turned his back to the fire and walked away.
Rakel rose and slipped after him, worrying over his expression. “Oskar.” She hurried to catch up to him.
“Ah, Princess! I hope you enjoyed tonight’s celebration.” Oskar’s bright smile was back on his lips, but Rakel could still see a lingering grief in his green eyes.
“I did. Is everything alright?”
“Of course,” Oskar said in surprise. “Why do you ask?”
“You seem…unwell.” She was unsure of how to further inquire without overstepping her boundaries.
“Ahh, it is nothing you need to trouble yourself with, Princess,” Oskar said. “I have seen my own folly, and I must be forced to live with my regrets.”
“If you would like to talk about it…”
“I am not worth your time, Princess.”
“Of course you are,” Rakel said. “You have supported me and stood with me. I want to hear what is troubling you.”
Oskar sighed and shut his eyes. “It’s when you say things like that, that I feel like the most awful being in Verglas.”
Rakel reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, but she hesitated. “I apologize.”
“It’s not you, Princess, it is my own sins that plague me.” Oskar turned so they faced the circle of campfires. The peppery scent of smoke lingered in the air, and Rakel could detect a whiff of the boar they had roasted earlier.
“Yes?” she prodded.
“I have done wrong by you for so many years, and I didn’t see it,” Oskar said. For the first time ever, Rakel could sense the difference in their years and see it in his face. Though he was ten years older than she, he usually looked as young as Phile or Knut. Tonight, though, his eyes were tired and heavy, his smile sad and jaded.
“You did for me what no one else did, Oskar. Before anyone had need of me for this invasion, you treated me like a human being,” Rakel said. I know that, now. All those years I thought you were mentally addled, you were sincerely friendly.
“Perhaps.” The bitterness in his voice made the word sour. “But I could have done so much more.”
Rakel studied his face, searching for clues. What is he talking about? He was the sole being who truly cared for me.
“All those years on Ensom Peak. I should have spirited you away from Verglas and taken you to Baris. Magic isn’t feared there—it’s just something some people have—but no one sees much use for it, so it’s generally ignored.”
“Oskar, you are too noble to resort to kidnapping.” Rakel smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
“Not if it meant you would have had a better childhood. You are royalty—a princess. Persons of such caliber are supposed to be kept separate, and so I thought that would be best for you. But I see it now. You are happiest when you are with people. Though you are reserved, you take pleasure in seeing the joy of others,” Oskar said.
“You cannot take responsibility for my parents’ orders. As my attendant—your smiles were more than anyone else offered me,” Rakel said.
He ignored her words and shook his head in misery. “I was so proud of myself and self-righteous for—for what I did do for you. But I gave you things when I should have sought to bring other people into contact with you. I should have hustled you off and not kept you exiled. It is my failure.”
Gave me things? Rakel strai
ned her mind, trying to remember when Oskar—when anyone—had ever given her anything. She didn’t think he had—although he had encouraged her self-guided studies and reading—the books!
“You were the one who gave me books every month?” Rakel asked.
Oskar winced. “I did not mean for you to find out. Ever.”
Rakel was simultaneously crestfallen and warmed. It had been her long held hope that her parents had cared enough about her to build her library. To learn it wasn’t them disappointed her, but to discover it was Oskar more than made up for it. “Books are terribly expensive, and you gave them to me by the crate load. You must have spent every coin you made on my library.”
Oskar pressed his lips together and stubbornly remained quiet.
Rakel mulled over the epiphany, trying to puzzle through it. “You made the most of your assignment as my attendant, then.”
Oskar exhaled, deflated. “I wasn’t assigned to you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I volunteered. And before you give me too much credit, I am only partially responsible for your library. Giving you books was always important to me, but Steinar bought some of the maps and models for you when he became king and realized what I was doing.”
That explains our identical map sets. “I always thought it was odd my parents would send a male attendant with me, not a footman or a female servant.”
“I was in line to serve Steinar,” Oskar admitted. “But I saw you a few times when you were a child. When I learned of your exile to Ensom…”
Oskar chose to serve me. He chose me, when everyone else was afraid. Rakel stared at her attendant. The disappointment of her parents’ decision was nothing compared to the realization that she hadn’t been alone, even when her exile first started.
“It was too cruel to treat you like a monster, when all you were was a scared little girl,” Oskar said.
Rakel struggled to put her thoughts into words. “I don’t think you realize how much you have done for me, Oskar.”
“I failed you, Princess.” Oskar’s eyes were sorrowful. “If I had tossed aside my stupid ideas of royalty and class…you would have been so much happier.”
“No, Oskar,” Rakel argued. “You are too filled with regret to see what you have done for me. Don’t you realize it? If you hadn’t given me those books—if I didn’t have the knowledge of architecture that I possess, there are a hundred times the invasion would have finished us.”
