Crown of Ice

by Victoria Gilbert

  “What dangers?” I rub at my shoulders with the edge of my cloak, scrubbing away the remnants of his touch.

  Voss turns to gaze out the window. “There are those who will not wish you success in your quest. One in particular—a mighty enchantress who will do anything in her power to thwart my plans.”

  This is new. I stare at Voss’s rigid back. “And why is that?”

  “It is of no importance. Just watch your step. There are few who may match wits with you, but she is one who can challenge your every move.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind, if I encounter any enchantresses.” I examine Voss’s face with interest. There’s a shadow of actual fear in his eyes. I file this information away for future use. “Now I’ll go and ready myself for my journey. I’m leaving Kai here to continue his work on the mirror. Don’t interfere with him.”

  “I will leave him alone, as I have thus far. He is of no interest to me, at any rate.” Voss’s gaze rakes over my face. “I am curious, I must admit, how much he interests you.”

  I turn on my heel and stalk toward the exit. “As I said, he’s a useful tool. A bright mind and an extra pair of hands. I value him because he may keep me from the wraiths. For that reason, I’ll protect him, as long as necessary.” At the door I wheel about to face the mage. “But don’t think you can use him as a bargaining chip, Master Voss. I’ve no feelings for him. He’s useful to me but I’ll sacrifice him in a heartbeat if it suits my purpose.”

  “No doubt.” Voss’s cool smile conveys admiration mixed with disdain. “Good fortune on your journeys, my queen. I too will be traveling later this day. You may leave your human pet without fear.”

  I smile in return—a smile as slow as a glacier, and as cold. “I’ve no fear. Your spells and training ripped that from my heart.”

  He nods his head in a brief acknowledgement. “I know. And for that I am truly sorry. Not for you, Thyra Winther, but for all who oppose you.”

  “Something to remember, Master,” I say as I turn and stride out of the room.

  KAI’S DISPLEASED WE’RE not traveling to locate the lost fragments of the mirror. I watch him pace the floor of his chamber.

  “I told you, Voss’s set me to another task, and I dare not refuse.” I lean back and rest my elbows on the pile of furs heaped on Kai’s bed.

  “We need those pieces,” says Kai. “We can’t complete our task without them.”

  “Obviously not. And we’ll retrieve them as soon as I return. But while I’m gone, you can run a few more calculations and piece together more of the mirror. That is of equal value.”

  Kai pauses and spins to face me. His face, pale as a winter dawn, bears a fierce frown. “My father’s life depends upon our success. Nothing’s more valuable than that.”

  “My life hinges on our success,” I say lightly. “I think that’s of equal worth.” I sit forward, gripping my knees. “Trust me, if there were any other way, I’d take it. But I must fulfill Voss’s commands. He has the power to destroy me, whenever he wishes.”

  Kai stares at me, his dark eyes examining every inch of my face, before he sighs and turns away.

  “Go then, and I’ll see what I can do to repair the mirror while you’re away. But promise me that as soon as you return we’ll set out to find the missing fragments.”

  “I promise.” I don’t know if I can keep such a vow, but I’m certain I can placate this boy, whatever the situation.

  Kai grabs his leather-bound notebook from a side table and crosses to the bed. “I’ve a question about this equation.” He opens the book and thrusts it under my nose. “What do you think? Should I change this number or leave it?”

  I push the notebook from my face, forcing it to my lap. “Let me think for a moment.” I trace the equation with one finger as Kai leans over me. His dark hair brushes my cheek. “Sit back.” I wave him off. “I can’t concentrate with you breathing down my neck.”

  He scoots away and we discuss equations and calculations and other logical matters for more than an hour. I must confess, despite his very human failings, Kai does possess a most remarkable mind.

  I SADDLE ONE OF THE horses Voss keeps for his sojourns into other lands. A compact bay with slender legs and a delicate black muzzle, the horse trembles at my touch. I know Voss never names his creatures, and decide to call the mare Freya. “Goddess of the spring,” I say, tightening the girth, “you’ll carry me to warmer climes.”

  Calling Bae to me, I order him to accompany us. “We travel into realms without constant snow or ice. You must follow, no matter how hot the sun.” I suspect I may need the reindeer’s ability to speak, if only to track Gerda.

  “I will not leave you, Snow Queen, unless you command it.” Bae’s dark eyes remain fixed upon me as I turn away.

  Luki whimpers when I tell him to remain at the palace. “Stay with Kai, and watch over him.” I’m certain the wolf won’t disobey me. I stroke his head before adjusting the saddlebags that hold my provisions and extra clothes. I’ve dressed in my chamois tunic and breeches, but packed lighter garments in anticipation of warmer weather.

  When I reach the edge of my realm I’ll alter my appearance to present a more human visage. For now I don’t concern myself with such things, merely tying back the heavy mass of my white hair with a piece of rolled leather.

  As I swing myself up into the saddle I cast one final glance at Luki. “Guard Kai,” I command, digging my heels into the mare’s flanks. The wolf lifts his head and howls as the horse breaks into a gallop that lifts us into the sky. We fly over the snowy valley, Bae sailing alongside.

  AFTER WE CROSS THE second range of mountains I guide Freya down to the earth. Although it’s still cold, the snow is fading. Patches of bare dirt and brown grass dot the landscape like islands in a foamy white sea. I know I must now stay anchored to the ground and alter my appearance. Soon we’ll be traveling past homesteads and villages.

  I haven’t seen anything green in so long, except for a few hardy spruces, I kneel and slide my fingers across a bit of moss that clings to a large outcropping of stone. I sniff the air, reveling in the faint scent of vegetation.

  Rising to my feet, I lean against the stone and concentrate, spinning a web of magic about my form. I don’t attempt major changes as I’ve discovered it’s tiring to maintain such a transformation. No need to tax my powers now. I simply darken my hair to a pale gold and dull my icy eyes to pewter. Veiling my angular face in rounded flesh, I paint a blush of color across my cheeks and smudge my hands and wrists with dirt. Now I can pass as an ordinary country girl. Someone who won’t stop a human in their tracks. Someone like Gerda.

  “Bae”—I motion for the reindeer to approach me—“run ahead and scout for any trace of Kai’s young friend. You know her face, her scent. She can’t have gotten far on foot.”

  The reindeer rattles the metal rings of his leather bridle. “I will find her. But though you may beat me or kill me, I will not harm her, Snow Queen, if that is your desire.”

  “It isn’t. I simply want to distract her. When you locate Gerda”—I fix Bae with my fiercest glare— “return to me. If you don’t, I’ll hunt you down. And believe me, death will seem preferable to what I’ll put you through.”

  Bae tosses his head. “I understand, my queen. I’ll bring you any news of the young miss, as swiftly as I can.” He gives me one last mournful look before disappearing into a stand of wind-whipped pines.

  “Come, Freya,” I say, mounting the horse. “Let’s see what we can find. Surely we can track a simple country girl and send her back home where she belongs.” I jab my heels into Freya’s flanks and she breaks into a fast trot, carrying me farther from my icy kingdom, closer to my goal.

  Chapter Eight: The Scent of Roses

  THE FARTHER FREYA CARRIES me from my realm, the more disoriented I become. There’s warmth in the breeze brushing my skin, reminding me of days spent in Inga’s garden. I was often forced to weed her flower beds and the scents that now waft about me recall
the feel of crumbly earth between my fingers and heat upon my neck. Such thoughts awaken other memories—of slaps, and tears, and long nights spent staring at smoke-blackened rafters. Loneliness and longing and hopes for another life. No. This can’t touch me. Release these thoughts. Let them fall away.

  Making camp beside a shallow stream, I eat a meal of bread and cheese and drink cold, fresh water from a tin cup. I rise to my feet as I hear the reindeer’s approach.

  “What news?” I step forward and take hold of Bae’s bridle.

  The reindeer presses his muzzle into my hands. He’s breathing hard and his flanks are streaked with sweat. “I found the young miss,” he says, raising his heavy head. “Not far from here. But I must warn you, Snow Queen, she is under the protection of a woman who possesses magical powers.”

  “What makes you say that?” I toss the cup into my saddlebags and wipe my hands on my breeches.

  “Her garden is filled with flowers, even though it is still winter.” Bae paws at the hardened ground. “All about her cottage it is chilly and gray, with only tiny kernels of buds dotting empty branches. But her garden is bright with blooms, as if she has captured summer and kept it enclosed behind stone walls.”

  “Gerda’s there? You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I saw the young miss wandering about the garden. She was talking to the flowers, poor thing, and tipping her head as if she heard them answering.”

  I don’t really care about Gerda’s state of mind, though it might be easier to convince her to abandon her quest if she has gone mad. “Show the way, Bae. We’ll rescue Kai’s young friend from this witch. Then you may escort Gerda safely home.” I step into the stirrup and swing my leg over Freya’s back. The mare sidesteps nervously but I quickly bring her under control.

  The reindeer leads us down a series of narrowing paths until we find ourselves on a track barely wide enough for Freya to pass. Slender pines line the way, straight as soldiers at attention. I hold back thorn bushes with one hand as we move farther into the forest, careful to duck to avoid their trajectory when I release my grip. At last we step into a clearing. A cottage rises from the middle of a leaf-strewn circle, a small building of rough stone capped with a thatched roof. A wisp of white smoke spirals up from the chimney.

  I dismount at the edge of the clearing, dropping Freya’s reins to the ground. She won’t move as long as the leather touches the earth. Ordering Bae to stay with the mare, I stride toward the cottage. I knock decisively upon the door, which is painted the bright emerald of new grass.

  The door opens slowly, disclosing a weathered, knotted hand attached to a boney arm. I lift my eyes and stare into the face of an old woman. Her wispy gray hair is pulled into a tight bun and her skin’s webbed with wrinkles. Green eyes, strangely bright in her wizened face, survey me with interest.

  “May I help you?” Her voice is as cracked as old porcelain. She’s much shorter than I, although this is partially due to the fact she’s bent almost double. She leans heavily on a thick branch polished to a smooth sheen.

  “I’m looking for a friend.” I modulate my voice to fit my unassuming appearance, softening my tone and adding the lilt I’ve heard in the speech of the villagers. “A young girl, who may be lost. She wandered away from our village a few days ago, distraught over the disappearance of a young man. Have you seen anyone who fits that description?”

  “Perhaps.” The old woman waves me inside.

  I step into the cottage, immediately feeling heat flush my neck and cheeks. Strangely, despite the smoke, bright red geraniums fill the stone fireplace instead of flames. Still, it’s warm inside the snug room. As hot as remembered summers.

  “There was a girl I rescued from the river.” The old woman’s dressed in a faded black gown with frayed white cuffs and a tattered hem. Jet buttons march up the bodice from her waist to her neck. “She was asleep in a small boat, just drifting with the current. I pulled her to shore and kept her with me for some days. But she fled this morning. I do not know where she’s gone.”

  I swear under my breath as I plaster a smile upon my face. “Really? Did she tell you her name, or why she was wandering?”

  The old woman toddles to a table piled with fresh vegetables. “She said her name was Gerda, and she was searching for her friend Kai. I begged her to stay with me a little longer, as she was exhausted from her travels, but she was quite determined to locate her friend. Such devotion—it touched my heart, I must say.”

  “Indeed, that sounds like Gerda.” I move closer to the woman, staring at her narrow back as she fiddles with a basket of cherries. “You’ve a wonderful harvest, especially for this time of year.”

  The old woman turns about slowly. “It’s from my garden. Would you like to see?”

  I nod my head, not entirely sure why I’m agreeing to this diversion. I follow the woman out the back door of the cottage and step into a garden like nothing I’ve ever seen.

  A riot of color assails me. Flowers of every hue and description fill the enclosed space. Orange lilies waver atop spear-like stalks thrust up from tumbles of azure pansies, while fat purple hyacinths snuggle amid drifts of bell-like snowdrops. I know such flowers can’t exist together, can’t bloom at the same time, but somehow this garden feels perfect. I blink and examine the climbing roses blanketing the rough stone walls. The roses range in shade from moon white to deepest crimson. Their velvet petals open as I watch, disclosing the golden stamens at the heart of their delicate layers.

  “This isn’t possible.” I breathe in the scents lacing the air. The hum of bees wraps me in a cloak of peace. I slide to the ground, my back pressed against the stone wall of the cottage. I’d like to stay here forever.

  “Anything is possible, Thyra Winther.” The old woman moves with unexpected grace to stand before me. She straightens into the figure of a tall, slender woman. The black gown splits and falls away, revealing a sparkling white gown pulled in tightly by a bright green bodice embroidered with an intricate pattern of vines and flowers. She raises her walking stick into the air and it bursts into bloom, the surface covered in apple blossoms.

  I gaze into the woman’s face. Gone are the wrinkles and sunken cheeks—her skin’s as smooth as the petals of a lily. Her lips are plump and red as cherries. The gray hair is now a tumble of auburn curls. Only her emerald eyes remain the same—bright and implacable as faceted gems.

  “How do you know my name?” I press my back against the rough stones behind me.

  “I am well acquainted with you, Snow Queen. I have watched you for some time. Ever since Mael Voss chose you, and carried you off to his palace of ice. I have followed your progress in reconstructing Voss’s magic mirror. You have accomplished much—more than any girl before you. I have seen this, and despaired. You, my dear, have the capacity to give Voss what he desires. And that cannot happen, Thyra Winther. I cannot allow that.”

  “Who are you to direct my actions?” I claw my way to my feet, my fingers digging into the cracks between the stones.

  The woman’s smile lights her face like sun glittering off an expanse of snow. “I am Sephia, enchantress and guardian of all growing things. I am Voss’s teacher, and adversary. I am the one who will prevent him from achieving immortality, with all the power I possess, with the last breath in my body.”

  “Immortality?” I force myself to meet the woman’s brilliant gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “You do not know?” Sephia’s eyes shine like emeralds. “So—you have not been told why Mael Voss wishes the mirror made whole? Interesting.”

  “No.” I lift my chin. “He has not disclosed its purpose to me.”

  “I see.” Sephia turns her head to stare at the pink blossoms festooning a cherry tree. “Well, perhaps you should be told his history, Snow Queen. At least as it involves the mirror.”

  “You know it?”

  “I do. As I said, I was his mentor, long ago. But he abandoned me to pursue other interests.” Sephia turns her gaze back on me, a shadow dimming
those bright eyes. I wonder just how close she and Voss grew before he left her side.

  “Did Voss find the mirror on his own?”

  Sephia studies me, her expression grave. “No, and for that I suffer terrible regret. I was the one who told him of its existence. A mere mention of a fabled glass, buried deep in a cave, the cast-off plaything of some ancient god.” Sephia toys with one of the cherry blossoms until she pulls it from the branch and tosses it to the ground. “I hoped to impress him with my great knowledge of arcane lore. But he was not focused on me, only on the things I could give him. He left me and found the mirror—and shattered it.”

  “He broke it? So all this time ... ”

  “He’s been seeking its restoration. Yes.” The enchantress taps her full lips with one finger.

  “But how?” So Voss shattered the mirror, then sacrificed young women to repair what he had destroyed. I dig my fingernails into my palms. Despite my own desperate fate, if he were standing before me I would slaughter him and throw his carcass to the bears.

  Sephia’s gaze pierces me, as if she can read the fury in my mind. “You should know, Thyra Winther, burdened with the mirror’s curse as you are, that Mael Voss can conjure eternal life for others but not for himself. He possesses powerful spells to prolong his life, but only one object can grant him immortality—the magic mirror he discovered as a young man, so many decades ago. But he was young, and proud, and rash. He attempted to command the mirror before he fully mastered his powers. Chanting the spell that would allow him to cheat death, he cracked the looking glass, shattering it into thousands of glittering fragments.”

  “Why not repair it himself? Are his powers so lacking?” Anger crackles through my voice.