A Tale of the Five Hundred Kingdoms, Volume 2

by Mercedes Lackey

“So she married that bashful boy from her village? I hope he knows he’s to do all the cooking,” Katya replied. “One touch of a fire—”

  “No!” Klava exclaimed. “That’s the wonderful part! Do you remember that delegation of Flora’s people, the ones that came in this winter on reindeer-drawn sledges?”

  “I remember you writing me about them. Why?” Katya was momentarily distracted by the arrival of what looked like a child bearing bowls of meat-filled borscht and cups of wine. Except it obviously wasn’t a child….

  “She and the youngest fellow, Flora’s cousin, I think, took one look at each other and simply fell head over heels! Here’s the best part—he’s from so far north, the snow never melts!” At Katya’s astonished look, Klava clapped her hands and laughed. “It’s true! Can you think of anything more perfect for a snow maiden?”

  “Not unless she married Father Frost! That’s lovely, but what about her poor old parents?” Katya nearly swooned when she tasted the borscht; she hadn’t had any soup that good in—well—a very long time.

  “They are very happy for her, but I think it was a relief for them to know that they were not going to have to guard against her melting anymore,” Klava told them.

  “It’s a definite consideration,” Sasha put in. “Good saints, Klava, who is your cook? This is amazing!”

  Klava chuckled. “We have Brownies now. Wait until you taste the bread!”

  So that’s what the little person wa—ah, is! Katya thought, as the small fellow returned with a basket of bread so fresh-baked it was steaming, and a pot of butter.

  “We’ll have to spend more time here, that’s clear!” Sasha said, cutting a slice and buttering it. “Oh—my—” he added around his first bite. “Definitely.”

  “The advantages of being an apprentice Godmother—though Elena keeps threatening to turn me loose on my own!” Klava didn’t look the least bit unhappy about that idea however, which made Katya take a longer look at her.

  Hmm, I should think so. It’s time.

  “Good. It’s about time Led Belarus had a Godmother, what with all of this going on.” Sasha waved his hand wide to indicate the entire lake complex. “A Fortunate Fool can only do so much, you know.”

  “I know, believe me, I know.” Klava rolled her eyes. “The Baba Yagas alone could keep a Godmother busy. It’s a good thing that they tend to do as much good as evil.”

  “And speaking of evil, we met with Sergei on the road,” Sasha told her. “He’s just back from the City of Brass. They have the bottle and have agreed to keep it, but he told us they were playing very aloof and not terribly communicative, so heaven only knows what they plan to do about the Jinn.”

  Klava pursed her lips. “Well…he’s their problem now. Or their Godmother’s, if they have any such thing.”

  “Definitely their problem,” Katya said firmly, getting the last little bit of broth from the bottom of the bowl. “After we bottled him, I saw that the writing had changed. Now he’s bound in there until he reforms. If he does, he gets out, and then they will have to deal with him.”

  Klava gave her a long look. “You know, I don’t know that I would have taken that generous a hand with him. I still like ‘Until the twelfth of Never.’ Or ‘Until all frogs become princes.’ Something like that.”

  Sasha thoughtfully ate his last bite of bread. “We do have to deal with the repercussions of being a Fortunate Fool,” he said, as Katya nodded.

  “Then I’m glad I’m a Godmother. I can be vindictive on occasion.” Klava laughed. “Now that you’ve had the edge taken off your hunger, care to come visit Adamant and Gina?”

  “Of course!” Swinging their legs over the benches, they followed Klava out to the practice grounds.

  There a number of would-be young Champions were hard at work under the direction of the two dragons. Gina was instructing one group in swordwork, while Adamant was patiently on the receiving end of blows from quarterstaves.

  “More wrist!” they both happened to be saying, as the three of them came into view. Both looked up at the same time, and all work on the ground halted as the students craned their necks to see who was coming.

  “Sasha! Katya!” Adamant reared up a little and arced his wings. “Oh good to see you! How do you like the changes?”

  “Impressive,” Sasha chuckled. “Anyone would think this was a place where important people came.”

  “Well of course it is!” Adamant said, grinning. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

  Gina cuffed him with a wing.

  “In all seriousness,” the emerald dragon said, slowly. “This is something that has been needed for a while. Not just a Godmother for this part of the world, and not just a Chapter House, but a place where those who are not human can safely send representatives to those who are. There has been some very interesting talk going on over in those embassies. I think we’ve done a fine thing here.”

  “If so, it was entirely by accident,” Sasha replied, and shrugged. “The way most things tend to happen with me.”

  “Trust to Luck,” Katya added, and grinned.

  After a few more pleasantries, they parted. Klava led them through the gardens, then paused, waiting for their reaction.

  Before them was a statue carved from a single piece of quartz crystal, of a young woman in a dancing dress, arms and face raised toward the sky. The crystal had been carved, and the statue placed so that the sun filled it with light.

  It was Guiliette.

  Katya gasped. “How—”

  “The Queen’s carvers,” Klava said with pride. “They asked me questions and made sketches until they got her face right. Then they carved the statue.”

  “It’s perfect,” Katya said quietly. And then she smiled. “If there is one single thing I am happiest about, it is that she freed herself.”

  Klava nodded, and they both gazed at the statue for a while in silence. The carvers had somehow managed to put on the statue’s face the one expression that Katya had not seen on Guiliette’s until the end.

  Joy.

  Finally Sasha cleared his throat. “If we don’t see the others soon, they are going to have our hides,” he reminded them.

  Katya laughed. “I think I shall keep my hide thank you! Let’s go!”

  Magda was holding court, so to speak, in the gypsy camp. She insisted on brewing them tea and told them firmly that she would not read their fortunes, since she never read the cards for family. She introduced them to most of the camp, people who looked so much alike that Katya wondered how Magda kept them all sorted in her mind, and then she sent them on their way after extracting a promise to come back that evening for dancing and music.

  Lyuba greeted them just as enthusiastically as Klava had. Although they had both heard of the changes to the mercenary company that had once worked for the Jinn, this was the first time they had actually seen these changes with their own eyes.

  The livery was now light and a dark grey and cotton mix had lightened the wool. All the men wore a snarling Wolf head on their tunics, and the company banner bore the likeness of a running female Wolf. Lyuba herself wore the same uniform as the men, and they all treated her with respect and as an officer—except for Piotr, who treated her with respect in public, and with relentless teasing in private. But she teased right back, just as relentlessly, and with the same good humor.

  They paid their respects to the Queen’s Ambassador. Sasha didn’t recognize him, but he didn’t expect to, though they both paid close attention to everyone else in the Embassy. After all, tomorrow the man who served them tea might be the Ambassador, and the Ambassador might be serving as a secretary. The Queen herself, it was said, would likely not be coming out of her mountain for a long while. Her appearance to put down the Jinn was a rarity, and it would take something even more powerful to induce her to repeat that incident.

  And then—it was time to visit the Sea King.

  The Embassy was half above, and half below the water, to accommodate those who couldn’t bear th
e thought of venturing below the surface. For those who could—

  There was a chamber where one could change into costumes more suitable for the half of the Embassy where, to be honest, the real work was done.

  “Well,” Katya said glancing at Sasha with resignation. “We might as well.”

  “If we do, we’ll at least come back to dry clothes,” Sasha pointed out.

  She nodded. Katya put on her old fish-scale armor, and Sasha something very similar. Then, after Sasha swallowed one of the seaweed balls that allowed him to breathe underwater, they plunged into the pool that led down below the surface.

  What the King was going to do when winter froze this lake over, Katya didn’t know. It might be possible to have the same sort of magic put on the place that kept the waters of the Palace warm and comfortable. That wasn’t her problem though, for which she was monumentally grateful.

  She found her father tending to dispatches, and the moment he saw the two of them, he left all of it to greet them.

  “I want to know everything you’ve been doing,” he told them, drawing them off to another room, as his aides tactfully steered petitioners away. “I know you sent me reports, but there are so many things I need to know! For instance—about that rogue witch who was changing the weather—”

  They talked for hours, it seemed, while the water about them grew dark, and the light globes began to shine. Finally he settled back with a sigh.

  “I know that you just got here, but there are so many things I need you to investigate—” he said reluctantly.

  Sasha laughed, and Katya chuckled. “I told him that was what you would say. It was just what his father said,” she replied. “You two are frighteningly alike.”

  Her father paused, and looked seriously into their faces. “I hope that you know that you are more, far more to me than just my investigators, my solvers of problems, and my Fortunate Fools,” he said, his earnest tone of voice making it clear that he meant this, felt it. “I have always loved my daughter, Sasha, more than anything other than my wife and her siblings. And since she loves you, you are a part of that. I don’t want you to forget that. Especially when it seems as if all I am doing is using you.”

  Katya’s breath caught, and she looked at Sasha. He looked incredibly moved. “I know that, sir,” he replied softly. “I do know that. But I also know that things have to get handled, and not always when we have the leisure for them. We both know that. It comes with the duty.” Then he grinned. “That said, if you ever find a sealed bottle at the bottom of the ocean and open it—you can handle what comes out on your own! And I am perfectly serious about that one!”

  The King looked at his son-in-law for a moment, and blinked. “I suppose it would be all right if I got a Champion to deal with it….”

  Katya raised an eyebrow. “With Klava here? What do you think?”

  After a long pause, the King cleared his throat. “All right then. New edict. All sealed bottles to be strictly left alone. There’s almost never anything in them worth bothering with anyway. Now, about this overture from Acadia—they claim they are having trouble with some sea creature they call a Kraken—”

  Sasha glanced over at Katya. “Never a dull moment, is there?” he whispered.

  “Would you have it any other way?” she whispered back.

  “Are you two paying attention?” the King asked abruptly.

  “Of course. Acadia. Kraken. Question as to whether we should investigate, or just tell them to talk to the dragons.”

  “Ah. Good.” He launched back into his litany.

  No I wouldn’t, Sasha mouthed at her, and smiled. She winked.

  Neither would I, she thought with contentment. Neither would I.

  * * * * *

  ISBN-13: 9781459296664

  The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

  Copyright © 2007 by Mercedes Lackey

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com

  Rediscover the magic of the Tales of the Five Hundred Kingdoms, by New York Times bestselling author Mercedes Lackey.

  Aleksia, Queen of the Northern Lights, is mysterious, beautiful and widely known to have a heart of ice. But when she’s falsely accused of unleashing evil on nearby villages, she realizes there’s an impostor out there far more heartless than she could ever be. And when a young warrior disappears, Aleksia’s powers are needed as never before. Now, on a journey through a realm of perpetual winter, it will take all her skills, a mother’s faith and a little magic to face down an enemy more formidable than any she has ever known.

  Originally published in 2008

  The Snow Queen

  Mercedes Lackey

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  CHAPTER 1

  “YOU’RE NOT LIKE ANY FAIRY GODMOTHER I EVER HEARD of,” young Kay said, sullenly, his voice echoing in the enormous, and otherwise empty, throne room. He broke the silence and in doing so, created a reminder of how empty the room was. If Kay had taken the time to think—which he did not, because at the moment, the only thing he ever thought about was himself—he might have wondered why such a room existed here in the Palace of Ever-Winter at all. Aleksia did not hold audiences, nor have a Court. So far as he knew, there were only two living things in this palace: himself and her. So why would she need a huge throne room? Why would she need a throne room at all?

  Such thoughts had not once crossed his self-involved mind; at least, not yet.

  He did not shout; he was not the type to shout, and certainly there was no need in a room so quiet that even the faintest movement sounded as loud as a deliberate footfall. But his voice, midway between a tenor and a bass, was layered with frustration and anger, and had the distinct edge of a whine to it. It grated on Aleksia’s nerves. Kay grated on Aleksia’s nerves.

  The throne room was austere magnificence itself, as was all of the Palace. Walls that perfectly imitated snow were, in fact, the most pristine of white quartz. Floors that looked like clouded ice were marble. It was an enormous space, exactly like the interior of a pure-white egg. It was full of light, and when she was not keeping the temperature artificially low for the “benefit” of her “guests,” it was warm and welcoming.

  There were benches all around the circumference, also white, also of marble. Normally, they were softened with cushions of the palest blue velvet, but of course not when Kay was around. It was her intention to keep Kay as physically uncomfortable as possible while creating an illusion of comfort.

  It was hard to ignore him; his presence itself would have shouted, even if he had not spoken at all. His black-velvet clothing and sable
furs made an inky intrusion in the otherwise pure-white room—a very solid and substantial blot in the midst of light.

  Black did not suit him, not even the lush black of velvet and fur that looked so soft it made the hand yearn to touch it; the lack of color, and the contrast of the very pure white of the surroundings, brought out the sallow tones of his skin, and made him look as if he had been sculpted out of raw piecrust. He was the one who insisted on wearing black, though. Presumably, he thought it made him look serious and to be reckoned with. He probably thought it made him look older. Most of her visitors did the same; it was as if there was a kind of unacknowledged uniform for the nonconformist.

  She shifted a little, a very little, in her throne. The heavy, buttery silk of her gown, impregnated with warming spells, moved with her, sliding like cream over her arm. She did not immediately reply, letting the silence speak for her and make him uneasy.

  Since Aleksia did not need to look at his expression to read his mood, she did not turn her attention away from the five-foot-tall mirror that she was watching with all the intensity of a hawk at a quivering bush hiding a rabbit.

  The mirror was an incredible piece of work, both in terms of its craftsmanship and in what it was made of. This was a single flat sheet of ice nearly two inches thick, as clear as a pane of glass except when she wanted it to become reflective. It was held by a four-inch-thick, cloud-colored frame that was also made of ice, severe and plain, the surface so smooth that it seemed to deflect the curious finger. At the moment, the mirror was, indeed, reflecting something, but the reflection was not of herself, nor of Kay, but of another scene entirely. In the crystalline depths of the mirror, a tired-looking young girl was plodding through a forest.

  She was, perhaps, sixteen or seventeen—a woman grown by most standards, though not by Aleksia’s. She was blond and blue-eyed, with long golden plaits wrapped over her head like a kind of crown and just showing under the rabbit-fur cap. Her face was round, but not dumpy; she had a sweet expression, a pert nose and a mouth of the sort that made young men want to kiss it—full-lipped and soft and inviting. She was dressed as the more prosperous sort of village-dweller would dress, in a sturdy woolen dirndl in a cheerful red, that belled out around her ankles, a little white apron that had never seen the inside of a kitchen, a matching cloak in a darker red with a hood that could be pulled over the cap. On her feet were stout leather boots, also red, lined with rabbit fur, and mittens that matched her cap. Nothing more could be seen of her clothing beneath the cloak, but it could reasonably be assumed it was of equally good quality. She was burdened with a pack and used a polished wooden staff to help her along the path. And she looked entirely out of place there. It did not seem possible that such a person could be found in the middle of a forest; she belonged in a village square, buying embroidery yarn and gossiping with friends. Her cheeks should have been pink with exertion, but they were pale. Her eyes scanned the forest nervously, and her face showed her fear all too clearly.