by K. M. Shea
Out loud, Farrin said, “I see. I can’t break and reflect the first layer of ice because it’s natural, not magic, and it’s reinforced by your magic. Well planned, Your Highness. There’s just one problem: I will be able to break free shortly, once my body heat melts this first layer of ice,” Farrin said.
Even so, she did well. I cannot recall the last time I was incapacitated, even temporarily.
“Yes, but freezing you wasn’t the point of this,” Rakel said, crouching next to him.
Farrin raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Rakel reached forward, and the ice parted for her as it had the day she built the wall. When she brushed the hilt of his sword, Farrin started struggling.
It was no use; the ice held him still as Rakel dragged his weapon away.
Rakel struggled, the muscles in her arms screaming with bone-deep weariness as she lifted the giant sword. The ice holding Farrin started to crack, but it was too late.
We’ve won.
Ice snapped up from the ground, encasing the sword in a gem-like prism. She pulled her hands loose and frosted the surface of the ice so the sword couldn’t be seen. Next, she coated it in two additional layers of ice, twirling and moving them so the ice block was positioned differently, making it impossible to guess where in the foggy block the sword was located.
She gave the ice one last swirl as Farrin broke through the ice encasing his body. Farrin wryly stared at the ice block. “It seems I haven’t given you enough credit,” he admitted. “But this won’t stop me from getting it. The sword is a tool; I wield the magic.”
“Yes,” Rakel agreed. Her elation made her lightheaded and warm. They did it! She and Liv had dealt a major blow to the Chosen colonel. Getting smacked with that curse was worth it. We’ve got his sword. “Even so, you won’t be able to reclaim it. You can reflect magic, but your sword is much sturdier than your hands. It will take you hours to smash all the way to the center to retrieve your sword, and you don’t have hours. You don’t even have minutes.”
“What are you talking about?” Farrin frowned.
A fireball popped up into the sky. Rakel shot off a storm of snowflakes in response, making a bigger cloud than she meant to thanks to the haze of joy that embraced her.
“What I mean is that we’ve won, and you’re going to be captured,” she said, smiling at Farrin as she flicked her hand, summoning a sword of ice, and held it to his throat.
Frodi, Genovefa, and a company of soldiers poured into the garden.
“Farrin Graydim, do you surrender?” Frodi demanded.
Genovefa tilted her head like a strange bird. “I would very much like to match blades with you again—though it seems you have lost yours.”
Rakel turned, looking for Liv so she could thank her. Ostfold is ours—and Steinar is safe!
Farrin studied the Verglas forces with chagrin. Rakel had bested him—even if he was free to move around again. Without his sword, he couldn’t easily attack, and even with his superior speed, he would be hard-pressed to escape the elf.
As he watched, the Verglas princess turned to smile at a woman who was hiding behind one of the water tower stands. Her grin abruptly dropped from her mouth and she groaned. “No!” Her eyes slipped shut, and she sagged to her knees.
Thrusting aside the regret of his loss, Farrin tapped his speed magic and caught her before she could hit the ground. “Rakel?”
“Back away from the princess!” the Verglas fire user yelled.
Rakel didn’t respond.
“Rakel!” Farrin said, his heart beating unevenly.
The elf was on him in an instant, dragging him away from the princess. He struggled—surrounded and significantly outmanned as he was—and one thought kept tolling in his mind. Rakel!
“She’ll be fine, lad,” said the older Verglas magic user who summoned the elf. He kindly smiled and held out a pair of those wretchedly unbreakable manacles. “Now if you’ll co-operate…”
Farrin let himself be led away, but he cast one more glance over his shoulder to look at his sword…and Rakel.
CHAPTER 17
KING STEINAR
“Princess, I’m certain you shouldn’t be up already,” Liv said, her forehead puckered with worry as she trotted at Rakel’s side.
“I should have been up long before now,” Rakel growled.
“You were unconscious until barely ten minutes ago,” Liv protested.
“That’s not a good excuse.”
“It’s an excellent excuse! Please, return to your room to finish recovering.”
Rakel ignored the plea and marched through the castle, hoping to come upon someone she knew. (Liv stubbornly refused to reveal where Oskar, Phile, and General Halvor were.) After lying like the dead for three days, Rakel badly wanted to learn about the rest of the battle for Ostfold. More importantly, she wanted to know how her brother, King Steinar, was reacting to his rescue.
Unfortunately, information was scarce. Liv, in her insistence that Rakel needed to return to her room to lie down, was impossible to twist information from. So Rakel was lost somewhere in the palace—while Snorri had drawn countless diagrams of the palace grounds, Rakel had paid scant attention to the innards—and hadn’t come upon anyone familiar.
She stopped walking and turned to Liv, her chin rising and one of her eyebrows arching as she considered what it would take to make the normally meek female talk. Fortunately—for both Rakel and Liv—a squad of patrolling soldiers rounded the bend.
“Princess?”
Rakel looked away from the quaking but determined Liv and smiled. “Knut, your timing is exquisite as usual.”
The soldier bowed and gave the pair his charming, gap-toothed smile. “Thank you, Princess. Congratulations on, uh, waking.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate your aid and expertise, if you could be spared for a moment,” Rakel said, casting Liv a thinly veiled scowl.
“How can I serve you, Princess?”
“Do you know the location of Oskar or General Halvor?”
“Not Phile?” Liv asked.
“As Phile has not sought me out yet, it is likely she is partaking in a shadowy activity of which I wish to remain ignorant,” Rakel said.
“Oskar and Phile were having a meeting in the royal library when my boys and I passed it not twenty minutes ago,” Knut said.
“Thank you for the information. Where is the library?”
“The first floor of the royal wing, Princess.”
“Where is the royal wing?” Rakel patiently asked.
The hallway was as silent as death as Knut studied his feet, and Rakel couldn’t quite pin down why. I didn’t ask anything unusual…did I?
“I will show you there, Princess,” Liv said, her voice quiet and almost mournful.
Rakel eyed her, suspicious over the newfound desire to help. “You will lead me directly there?”
“Yes, Princess,” Liv said, her lower lip trembling.
Rakel looked from Liv to Knut. “Is there a reason for the sudden lachrymose air?”
Knut straightened. “No, Princess. Good luck finding them.”
“Thank you, Knut. I beg your pardon for intruding.” Rakel nodded to the soldiers, then followed Liv, who moved through the palace at a brisk pace. In no time at all, she escorted Rakel all the way to the library. She hovered at the doors, preparing to knock, but Rakel—having spent too much time with Phile in the past month—threw the door open.
Phile was sitting on top of a desk, her legs draped off the side. She tossed Foedus high in the air and caught it. “Little Wolf.” She slipped off the desk and smiled as brightly as the sun.
Oskar was seated behind her, an arm thrown across his forehead. At Phile’s proclamation, he peered out from under the arm and then leaped to his feet. “Princess, it is a delight to see you so refreshed!”
“Oskar, Phile. Please forgive my curtness, but what happened during my…convalescence? Where is Frigid?” Rakel glided towards them, remembering to call out, �
��Thank you, Liv.”
“You’re welcome, Princess.”
As Liv slipped away, Phile gave Rakel a bone-crunching hug. “It’s good to see you up,” she said. “You’re thinking of when you were cursed, right? He ran off to the forests—I snagged him once the fighting was over. He was gorging himself on uncovered weeds. Nice work with Graydim’s sword, by the way. That was a neat trick.”
“Where is he?” Rakel asked.
“Farrin Graydim? Gone.” Oskar’s voice held a grim note in it as he pulled out a padded arm chair and indicated that Rakel should sit in it.
Rakel gave Phile an accusing glare.
“It wasn’t me!” Phile protested. “This time we handled him all proper like. Halvor had him and the rest of his cronies tossed in the dungeons. They were out in less than a day—knocked out all the guards and stole away in the middle of the night.”
“Any leads?” Rakel asked.
Oskar shook his head. “They’re gone. We didn’t discover they were missing until the guards failed to report in at the end of their duty at dawn.”
Rakel sank into the chair Oskar had fetched for her. “So although we reclaimed Ostfold, the real threat is still at large.”
“If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t get a chance to nab his sword,” Phile said.
Rakel brightened. “He didn’t?”
“Nope. He tried—there’s a couple of dings in the ice—but your giant block is still sitting out there in one piece, and there’s no way that weather user could have gotten it open for him.”
“I hate to be the voice of skepticism, but I doubt the loss of his sword will hit him all that heavily. He can easily replace it,” Oskar said.
“I don’t believe so,” Rakel said. “The sword was definitely something he treasured. While I’m certain he can use other weapons to reflect magic, I have hopes that they won’t work as well.”
“We’ll find out eventually. In the meantime, I suggest you confirm that the sword is still there, and leave it in the ice, Little Wolf,” Phile said.
“Why?”
“If the sword is that special, he’ll try to retrieve it,” Phile said.
“I see. I’m not opposed to it, but I do wish to speak with General Halvor and King Steinar first,” Rakel said. “How did the rest of the battle go?”
“As well as any conflict could go,” Oskar said. “Our losses were not as heavy as they would have been, thanks to the entrance you forged and Tollak’s shields. Our forces pushed the enemy out of the palace and into Ostfold. Unfortunately, the city limits sustained more damage than the palace as they held the brunt of the fighting—Halvor is inspecting the city now to begin drawing up reconstruction plans—but the fight ended shortly after the rest of our magic users joined the fray. The majority of the soldiers surrendered, but there were some escapees.”
“And the magic fight?”
“Better than we hoped. Genovefa ripped through them like a cat playing with a mouse—with backup from our other magic users. It was a good exercise for them, though. It strengthened their ties as a team.”
“Only one of the Chosen magic users got away during the battle: the shapeshifter,” Phile said. “We’re pretty sure it was she who freed Farrin and the rest.”
Rakel frowned. “She didn’t free any soldiers?”
“Nope. Only magic users. It just goes to show that they’re really not united. If we’re lucky, the abandonment of the foot soldiers will cause dissent among the rest of their mercenary troops,” Phile said with a toothy smile as she flipped Foedus in the air.
“I can’t believe that we won so…cleanly,” Rakel said.
“Aye, it’s a testament to General Halvor’s planning and to your power,” Phile said.
Rakel knitted her fingertips together. “Perhaps, but I believe it is also because we are—as you mentioned previously—united. But…do you think they’re planning something?”
“Halvor considered that. He sent a regiment of troops back to Glowma, along with Ragnar, Frodi, and the rope-weaver,” Oskar said. “They arrived without any difficulties and reported that the city is fine. They’ll remain stationed there, for the time being, until our future plans can be decided.”
“Are things not going well with Steinar, then?” Rakel asked.
Oskar rubbed the back of his neck. “Things are going rather poorly, but not for the reasons that you fear.”
“He is not domineering?”
“No, quite the opposite. He has told Halvor to do whatever he thinks best, and he would not give an opinion on anything we asked. Now, he runs away whenever he sees us, and his valet feeds us excuses for why His Majesty couldn’t possibly meet with us,” Oskar said.
“How…odd,” Rakel said, a thoughtful frown pulling the corners of her mouth down.
“He’s weird,” Phile said with her usual bluntness. “I know he’s your brother, Little Wolf, but he’s got the fortitude of a tree-mouse, and he runs around like a frightened child. I don’t know what the Chosen did to ’im, because he’s different from the last time I took a gander at him, but now he’s one camel short of a caravan.”
Oskar rubbed his chin. “Leaving the rest of the resistance to Halvor isn’t a bad move, but if Steinar remains hermit-like, it doesn’t bode well for what will come after.”
“You think the people will want Halvor as king?” Rakel asked.
“No. I think they’ll want you,” Oskar said.
Rakel grimaced. “That’s not an option.”
“That doesn’t mean the rest of the country thinks that—including King Steinar himself,” Oskar said.
“You believe he fears I mean to take over the throne?”
“Can you blame him?” Phile asked, balancing Foedus on her fingertip. “You sweep in with your personal army, effortlessly freeing what his forces fought so hard to defend. Why would he think you mean to keep him on the throne and save the country out of the goodness of your heart? He knows he’s wronged you.”
Rakel allowed herself a tiny sigh. I can barely keep my mess of emotions together. Now I am expected to sort through my brother’s as well? “We had better straighten this out immediately, or it will grow worse. Is it possible to send word to General Halvor to return to the palace?”
“I’ll go tell him,” Phile said. “I haven’t ogled him enough the past few days—though I have greatly appreciated your company, Oskar.”
“Thank you. Please inform him we will be speaking with the King,” Rakel said.
“I don’t understand how you’re going to get Steinar to meet with us,” Oskar said.
“You seem to think I require his permission to speak to him,” Rakel said. “He is my little brother. I know very little about families, but I do know being born first gives me the right to occasionally order younger siblings around. Steinar will meet with us because I say so.”
Oskar nodded wisely. “Yes, that was a spot-on impersonation of a bossy-older-sibling.”
“I’ll be back with Halvor.” Phile gleefully made her way over to a window. “I wouldn’t miss this showdown for the world,” she added and then slipped outside.
Rakel started for the door, but she paused when Oskar said, “This will be your first time meeting him, yes?”
Rakel nodded.
“While I eagerly anticipate you forcing him to act his role, Princess, please allow me to remind you that this will also be his first time meeting you.”
Some of the stiffness in her shoulders left her. “I want him to like me, Oskar.”
“I know. And I think one day he might. But I imagine right now he must be terrified of retaliation and consumed with fear.”
Rakel was silent.
“It’s not your fault, Princess. He has only himself to blame, and he knows it. But…”
“I know,” she said, echoing his earlier words. She offered him a bitter smile and then looked down at her dress—it was the same one in which she had fought Farrin. “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to refresh myself bef
ore we meet him.”
Rakel slipped from the library, mentally retracing her path from her room to the library. I’m not certain I remember all the turns I took. I will have to ask for clarification when I get closer…but Liv and Knut reacted so oddly. Perhaps I should return to the library and ask Oskar?
Rakel was so deep in thought, she did not hear the feet approaching from an intersecting hallway, and as a result, she rammed straight into the unsuspecting walker, making them both totter.
“I apologize.” Rakel brushed off her skirt then risked a glance at her unsuspecting victim. She froze when she realized she was gazing into a face similar to hers.
Steinar.
They had the same hawkish nose and pronounced cheekbones. Her chin was sharper, and his ears stuck out more, but even the way they drew up their shoulders at the same time echoed of shared mannerisms. He had the same corn-silk blonde hair Rakel possessed in her younger days, though his eyes were more of a hazel-gray than blue.
Phile was right, though. While Rakel could barely pass as eighteen, Steinar would turn twenty this year. He looked far older and more weary, as though he had carried a great weight for a long time—though he had only been king for a few years.
Rakel wondered—with a pang—whose nose they had inherited and where their height had come from, because as far as she could remember, neither of their parents were particularly tall.
Steinar gave Rakel the same treatment. It was hard to judge the emotions that played over his face—mostly because Rakel had never seen such a wide variety of emotions flash across her face, and the resemblance was throwing her. She thought she detected a flicker of sadness, but fear won out as his eyes grew in size, and he took a staggering step backwards.
“Brother,” Rakel started to say. The word died on her lips when Steinar spun and fled back up the hallway, running from her. Her heart fell. Oskar had tried to warn her, but a small, stupid part of Rakel had hoped that when he saw her…he would see her.
I should have known better. I do know better. And now I also know better than to demand that he speak to General Halvor, Oskar, and the others.
