by Alana Serra
“I remember,” she said softly, looking up at him.
“You only saw the worst of it. There was agony going on inside that I cannot easily explain, but I believe the other Drotuns are beginning to understand,” he said, glancing to them.
Hidrin nodded grimly. “Yes. I understand exactly what you mean.”
She’d known it was bad, but to know Rheor suffered so much made her heart hurt. And it made her think of Brunyr, who—while he had seemed nice enough, stable enough—was currently with her sister. She blanched, thinking of Elora caught in a violent firestorm. But Rheor trusted him. She had to remind herself of that. And even if it wasn’t much comfort, what could she do from here?
Elora was strong. If she was in danger, she would know what to do. Imara had to believe that, because there was no way she was getting through this meeting otherwise.
“What do we do now, then?” she asked. “Even if you go in search of mates, that could take weeks or months. What if they attack again?”
“We will bolster our defenses,” Rheor said. “Ward against them, now that we know they possess some powers. I’ve already increased my guard presence, and I recommend you both do the same. I will send word to the Molten Peak and make sure someone is putting the same measures in place for when Brunyr returns.”
The others nodded, accepting that this was the only way. But Imara couldn’t. Her brow furrowed and she looked up at Rheor. “Is that really all we can do? Just sit around and wait?”
“Until the other Drotuns have undergone Roinim, I’m afraid so.” His jaw set, his gaze distant for a moment before it returned to her. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but there is no other way. We would cause far more problems trying to force them out in this state.”
She knew he was right. Her tutor had explained that long ago, when the human tribes had still been nomadic and fighting for every scrap they got, there were often raiding parties dispatched. To confront the chiefs who sent them was always the wisest course of action—cut off the head of the snake, as it were. But they could only do that when they had full strength at their disposal, and that meant being healthy and well fed, which was why enemy tribes often starved others out and spread sickness among them, to ensure they could never do that.
But in this case, it wasn’t a group of humans drifting from place to place. It was four settlements of Raknari. Not accessible by the average person, true, but apparently easy for the Svag to infiltrate. If they couldn’t take the fight to them just yet, they needed a way to bolster the Drotuns so they could.
“What if we can gather a large number of humans in one neutral location?” she asked, trying to map it out in her mind. She hadn’t been too deep into the lands, but there had to be someplace. “The spring harvest is close. If you all extend your powers to help with that, maybe host some kind of festival, you’d get a lot of humans to attend. And… I think it would help to let them know why you’re there.”
She tried her best not to blush at that, remembering how eager she’d been to leave with Rheor. Yes, she’d been protecting Elora, but something about him called to her. If this truly was fate, the other women would be drawn to the festival, too.
“I’m sure we can find a place like that,” Jorn said, excitement threading through his voice that belied his stern countenance.
Hidrin nodded enthusiastically, that glimmer back in his eyes. Imara couldn’t help but smile, proud to have contributed something to this when she’d felt so out of place. Looking up at Rheor, seeing his pride reflected back at her, she couldn’t say she felt out of place anymore. They had a plan. They had a way to defend the peaks until that plan was enacted.
Now if Elora made it back safely, everything would be as perfect as it could be under the circumstances.
Chapter 26
As soon as they returned to the Frozen Peak, Imara helped Rheor and several other Raknari bolster their defenses.
They’d discussed a plan for it during the meeting, coming to a consensus on what must be done. While Rheor was not fond of penning his beautiful home in with walls, it was a necessity, and he and Imara spent most of their time working on that, creating ice-encased rock walls that would be impossible for all but the surest climbers to scale.
Siege weapons were constructed to place upon the walls, some of the Raknari warriors eventually able to create them from their powers, just as they manifested their own weapons. Guards were taught to use them and others were assigned detailed patrol routes and given birds that could return quickly and warn of anything they saw.
By the middle of the second day, as Imara was nearing exhaustion from working on the wall, she heard the announcement from a guard that someone was coming. Others scrambled to confirm, just as they’d been advised. Weaponry was held tense, pointing toward the mountain path. When the riders were announced, though, everyone eased.
Everyone except Imara, who dropped what she was doing and rushed for the newly constructed gates.
She saw Brunyr first, seated atop his low-roving lizard beast, its black tongue flicking out to taste its surroundings. He didn’t look as though he’d lost control of his powers, and the men who’d left with him all seemed intact. But where was…?
Brunyr shifted in such a way that Imara was able to glimpse someone behind him. Someone wrapped in heavy furs from head to toe, her auburn hair spilling out from beneath her hood.
“El!” she called, rushing forward.
The hooded figure’s head jerked up and even though it was shadowed, Imara could see the smile, could feel the warmth of it. She slid down from the lizard—with Brunyr’s help—and ran to meet Imara. They crashed together, a tangle of arms in a tight embrace. Tears stung Imara’s eyes as she held her sister, something she thought she’d never be able to do again.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said into Elora’s hair, breathing in the familiar scents of home.
“I wouldn’t miss your wedding. That’s… what this is, right? I wasn’t really clear on what ‘ceremony under the Glacial Moon’ meant.”
Elora drew back, a glint of humor in her sky blue eyes. Imara couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s a wedding. Or as close to one as the Raknari get, I think.” She flushed a bit, realizing the last time she’d seen her sister, Rheor and the others had just come off as brutes. “I know it’s strange, but they’re… not what I thought. Rheor is a good person, and he treats me well.”
A curious look passed over Elora’s face. It seemed wistful, and she glanced over her shoulder. When Imara followed her sister’s gaze, she found Brunyr staring right at her, fire in his eyes.
Oh.
“You are definitely telling me all about that,” she whispered, feeling a little giddy.
She’d never been one for gossip about men. But then, she’d never had any men in her life worth gossiping about. And she desperately wanted to know what her sister and the Drotun of fire had gotten up to.
“I’ll tell you,” Elora said, blushing crimson, “but can we go somewhere warmer? It’s freezing out here.”
Grinning, Imara led her sister toward the palace she called home now. The gasp told her she had gotten used to its magnificence, though it wasn’t hard to see it through Elora’s eyes. A spiraling tower that shimmered like crystals in the sunlight, brilliantly white-blue with a light haze of mist emanating from the ice walls.
“You live here?” her sister asked in awe.
“Yeah. It’s not as big on the inside, but it’s still amazing.”
As they climbed the slope, she heard someone approaching from behind them and felt the now-familiar tingle run through her arms, where her runes were most prominent.
“El, you remember Rheor,” she said, turning without even having to confirm it was him. “Though I know the last time you saw him he was pretending to be a scary Storm Lord who demanded human sacrifice.”
“There is no ‘pretend’ about it,” Rheor joked, offering a gentle smile to Elora that made Imara’s heart melt. “
I’m glad you made it here safely. Was your journey an easy one?”
Elora’s blush darkened and she looked away from him. Imara had to stifle her laugh, but she placed a reassuring arm around her sister. Eventually El came out with an answer, “I wouldn’t say easy, but it was… enjoyable.”
Now she definitely needed to know. As rude as it was to tear her sister away from this proper meeting with her future “husband,” she couldn’t contain herself.
“I wanted to catch El up inside. She hasn’t adapted to his weather yet,” she said, shooting Rheor her best pleading smile.
“Of course. I’ll finish with the wall, and check in on you later.”
There was a spark of heat in his eyes that ignited something deep in Imara’s core. “Later,” she promised.
Then she ushered Elora inside, sat her down in front of a fire, and got to work interrogating her about the journey she’d taken with Brunyr.
It wasn’t quite as scandalous as she’d hoped, though even Imara could admit her view of what was “scandalous” was severely warped now. Sitting down with her sister in front of a roaring fire that was too hot for her these days, she discovered Brunyr had taken an instant interest in her. He hadn’t had eyes for anyone else in the village or throughout the entire journey—even the pretty Raknari guard who accompanied them and seemed eager to catch his eye.
At first she’d been scared, but he made her laugh more than she had in a long time. Imara had smiled at that, noting that she’d have to find and thank him later. But unfortunately Elora’s story hadn’t been all smiles and warming up to the Lord of Fire. They’d been attacked on the road by Svag, and they were waylaid by the intolerance Brunyr and his men had for the freezing nights, as well as his overactive powers.
“Did he ever hurt you?” Imara asked, her voice grave. “Even accidentally.”
Elora’s eyes had widened, as if she couldn’t imagine such a thing. “No. No, he didn’t hurt me. Well…” she’d frowned, and Imara found herself waiting with bated breath to find out if she needed to threaten a Drotun. “I tried to touch him once. Just an innocent touch of the hand. His skin burned me. He felt terrible about it and he avoided touching me for the entire trip, even…”
She’d blushed then, clamming up so tight Imara wasn’t sure she would ever get it out of her. Then she’d finally admitted it.
“Even though I might have wanted him to.”
That was certainly a sentiment she understood. She told Elora of her own struggle, leaving out some of the more… intimate details. That same heat blossomed in her own cheeks, though, and Elora’s knowing smile said she knew exactly what her sister was leaving out. It seemed a comfort to her, though, in several ways, and they talked for hours about the Frozen Peak, the Raknari, and even home.
Lying down to sleep that night, the evening before she was to be “wed” to Rheor and make an official commitment to this life, she thought about her village, her family and the few friends she’d made. She missed them. There was no getting around that. If she couldn’t convince Elora to chase after Brunyr, who she obviously had a connection with, she would have to travel days just to see her own sister.
Yet she didn’t regret where she’d ended up. If anything, she felt more at ease here, as if she truly belonged. Outside of her hunts with Elora, it was something she’d never felt back home. Content with that knowledge, Imara curled up next to Rheor—sated and exhausted after he’d made good on his promise—and dreamed of the future.
That future rushed up to meet her at the crack of dawn, when Imara was still half-asleep and in no mood to stumble around and do things.
But Nava threw open the drapes, casting sunlight into the chamber. Rheor groaned, pulling a pillow over his head. Imara just curled closer against him, burying her own face in his side.
“Up you go. There’s too much to be done for you to laze around. Or not laze around,” she said, casting a glance at Rheor’s crotch, where the morning had brought a flow of blood southward.
He didn’t bother covering himself, though Imara wondered if she should. She was used to the dirty old woman at this point, though. Nava had taken it upon herself to act as some kind of lady’s maid to her, something she’d never claimed to need and had even fought against. That didn’t seem to matter to her, though, and she forcibly hauled Imara out of bed, taking her through a litany of “preparations.”
She was bathed, an iridescent cream spread over her skin, a brush run through her hair. Then she was made to undergo some kind of ritualistic reflection that even Nava admitted was archaic, but that the Acolyte of Kiova required to perform the ceremony. After that she’d been released to spend the day with Elora, but following the evening meal she’d been stolen away again, this time to put on a dress that was thankfully beautiful.
It was a deep blue with hints of silver threading through it, the gown falling like silk over her figure, cinched in at the waist to accentuate her hips more than she’d thought possible. It fell to her ankles, though the sleeves were bare, showing off the majority of her runes. Silver bracelets, stylish boots, and a necklace with a bright blue stone capped off the look. With Imara’s hair braided and pinned to the top of her head, she felt… beautiful, actually, which was not something she was used to feeling.
Elora was the beauty. She’d always been the plain one. The one who was a bit too abrasive. A bit too boisterous. Too eager to break the rules. Yet here she was, being married to a Storm Lord in a city at the top of a mountain, her sister by her side.
As night fell and the full, blue-tinted moon rose high in the evening sky, Imara felt nerves coil in her gut. She wasn’t sure of her choices. She loved Rheor and she’d found a place here with him. But she was still uncertain about her capability as a leader. Still, Imara wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, and when Nava came to fetch her for the ceremony, she held her head high.
Past the palace, near the tallest point of the peak, stood a garden surrounded by low marble walls. It was filled with different sizes of bushes and other plants whose blooms had been closed the entirety of Imara’s stay. Now, under the light of the Glacial Moon, they were open. Dazzling white and blue petals, sprays of tiny flowers, large buds that unfurled in the wake of the moon. There were so many different kinds, and the scent that surrounded her made her think of the first snow on an early winter morning.
As she ascended the slope, she saw Elora, dressed in a fur-trimmed gown with a cloak pulled tight around her shoulders. She beamed at Imara, leaning forward to pull her into an embrace and whisper in her ear. “You look so beautiful.”
When she drew back, moonlight painted the shimmer of tears on her cheeks. Moisture sprang into Imara’s own eyes and she had to square her jaw to keep the tears from falling. She only partially succeeded at that, one rolling down her cheek, tracing a continuous path. Steeling herself against the sudden flood of emotion, she kept walking. The other Drotuns were there, Jorn and Hidrin watching her. Brunyr’s gaze was fixed behind her, longingly, wistfully, and she knew exactly who he was looking at.
Deciding to chance Nava’s wrath, she peeled away from her escort again and went toe to toe with Brunyr. He finally snapped out of his trance and looked down at her, smiling a devil-may-care smile that seemed ill-suited to him in this moment.
“You look radiant, Korun,” he said, dipping his head to her.
“Not as radiant as my sister,” she said with a knowing lift of her eyebrow.
“I…” he had the sense to look mildly abashed, his hand going to his neck.
“She likes you,” Imara said, her tone meant to reassure. “She might be your Korun, as much as you’re drawn to each other. But I swear to you, if you hurt her, I will put an arrow right between your eyes.”
That actually made him laugh, a deep, delighted chuckle. “Deal.”
She flashed him a smile and looked over her shoulder to wink at Elora. The answering blush was worth the trouble and Nava’s rolling eyes. Falling back in line, she continued to walk the
path, noting the twinkling lights embedded in the rocks on either side of it. She passed others from the city. Loken, Almir, even the two female guards who’d shown her no love when she first arrived. Everyone seemed to at least respect that she was here and that this was happening for a reason.
As she reached the peak, though, she saw no one else. Only Rheor, his usual leather breeches replaced by delightfully form-fitting, dark blue pants with silver thread running up the sides. He wore jewelry around his wrists that was similar to hers, and the runes on his bare chest and arms seemed to glitter in the moonlight. His hair was brushed, flowing freely over his shoulders, the light hitting it so softly that she itched to run her fingers through it. Most notably, though, the look in his blue eyes took her breath away.
His gaze was focused so intently on her, as if she was the only person who existed in this world and every other. His lips were parted and he barely seemed to draw breath, the stars gleaming in his eyes. If she’d felt beautiful before, she truly did feel radiant now.
“You are breathtaking,” he said, sounding as though he actually was fighting for breath.
“I’m not exactly breathing normally myself,” she said, her gaze raking shamelessly over him. She couldn’t wait to get him out of those pants. They already left nothing to the imagination. “Though that could be how tightly Nava cinched the waist of this gown.”
“Don’t worry,” Rheor murmured, leaning into her, “you won’t be wearing it long.”
Heat threaded through her and it was all she could do to focus. At the sound of a throat clearing, she turned to see an older Raknari dressed in light blue robes, a crest around his neck that was the same as many of the Acolytes she’d seen earlier in the day. Right. They were here to be bound together, not to ruin the clothing someone had likely slaved over and give all in attendance a show they wouldn’t soon forget.
