by K. M. Shea
Kavon looked straight into the tree and brushed his sides with a frown.
Phile held her breath. Had he felt it?
He walked away, whistling a tune and stamping his feet when he left the garden for an open-air corridor.
Phile watched him leave, exhaling with relief when he fell out of sight and hearing range. “That was risky. Mother would have paddled me for fumbling on such an oblivious target.” She pinched the mirror shard between two fingers and frowned at it. It was about as big as her thumb and dangerously sharp—though the surface appeared to be too warped to properly show a reflection.
It was pretty disappointing to look at, considering the people of power that all seemed to possess one.
“Perhaps it helps them communicate?” Phile left her tree and climbed up the side of the palace, flipping onto the ceiling just in time to avoid a set of patrolling soldiers. Judging by the amount of medals and trim sewn to their uniforms, they were probably magic users. She was about to roll to her feet and pick her way back across the ruined palace, when the soldiers spoke.
“Good afternoon, Healer Sunnira.”
“Good afternoon. You need to report in to your patrol leader as swiftly as possible.”
Phile peeked over the edge of the ceiling so she hung upside down and watched with interest as a pretty woman handed the magic users a scroll.
“Is something wrong, Healer Sunnira?” one of the men asked.
“Of a sort. We’ve received orders from Colonel Graydim—he’s pulling out a few squads of soldiers and several officers. Your rotation is changing to cover for the loss.”
“He needs more troops? Why? I thought there were only a few mountain villages left.”
“There are. Apparently one of those villages was the supply hub for the exiled Princess Rakel,” the woman said.
Phile almost lost her hold of the roof in her glee.
“She’s real?” A soldier marveled.
“Frighteningly so. She’s already beaten back our forces and retaken two villages. Report in to your patrol leader for more details.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Phile pulled herself back onto the roof just before the woman turned in her direction. She grinned from ear to ear as she felt her pocket for the mirror shard. So she exists, does she? Wonderful! Perhaps now Verglas will be able to fight back. Though I imagine the state of the country will make her suspicious of outside help. What great luck it is, then, that I have a token to offer her, she thought, patting the mirror shard she had just swiped. She hopped, skipped, and leaped her way across the palace, intending to sniff out a copy of the orders. She needed to find out where the mythical royal was making her stand. Princess, I so look forward to meeting you.
The End
The Captain’s Story
The next trio of stories are probably my favorite out of the bunch. They all examine Rakel’s life before the events of Heart of Ice, but they do so from different perspectives. This story is from Halvor’s.
Halvor—a relatively newly instated captain of the Verglas Army—glanced uneasily at the saddlebag that held his orders. I hope I have made the right decision. He turned his horse in a circle and studied his men—who marched on foot or drove the supply wagons—as they climbed Ensom Peak.
They were about to embark upon one of the most dreaded assignments in the army: guard duty to the feared Princess Rakel.
Though the princess was the oldest child of King Ingolfr and Queen Runa and would have been the heir to the throne, she possessed magic. She had been exiled on Ensom Peak at the age of ten, and the royal family carried on as if she didn’t exist. They took precautions, however, and kept a large squad of guards on the mountain peak. Most would assume it was to keep the princess safe from anyone who might mean to harm her. Havlor’s orders stated otherwise.
His duty—and the duty of his men—was to keep the princess on Ensom Peak, by any means necessary.
Guarding the princess was dangerous. No one knew how much magic she had, though Halvor suspected she was powerful. His orders reported that she had been building and tearing down castle walls constructed with ice as thick as a man is tall, and she was only seventeen. To possess the power and intelligence to construct things made her formidable indeed.
And Halvor had volunteered his squad to guard the possibly dangerous and very likely demented princess.
Halvor felt a frown settle on his lips. He nodded at the soldiers who saluted him when they marched past, and he nudged his horse forward. They were only a few minutes from Fyran—the village that served as an outpost to keep the Princess and her guards fed and clothed.
Knut—one of the younger soldiers in Halvor’s squad—gave Halvor a shaky smile and a polished salute when Halvor’s horse picked its way past him. The soldier had been horrified when he was told of their new assignment—magic terrified him.
Halvor nodded to him. “Steady, soldier,” he said gruffly.
Knut set his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”
Aleifr—one of Knut’s common companions—slapped him on the shoulder with a reassuring smile.
“Sir,” Snorri—the soldier Halvor commonly used for scouting—ghosted out of the forest like a shadow. “A mounted soldier approaches.”
Moments later, a soldier—riding a sturdy mountain pony—trotted down the path. “Captain Halvor?” he called, squinting at the group.
Halvor, the only rider of his squad, adjusted his horse’s reins. “Aye?”
“Captain Sten requests your presence at the wall. I am to stay behind and show your men to their barracks,” the rider said.
“The wall?” Halvor asked.
“Yes, the wooden wall surrounding the princess’s enclosure,” the soldier said. “To reach it, take the road that forks left.”
Halvor frowned at the sloppiness—if Captain Sten wanted to meet with him, he should have sent more than one soldier—but until he assumed command of the outpost, he needed to follow orders.
“Unpack the supplies and take inventory,” Halvor told one of the older soldiers of his squad. The man saluted, and Halvor squeezed his horse into a trot.
The road led almost all the way to Fyran. He could see the village through the trees when the trail finally split. Fyran churned with activity. There were wagons—packed and waiting in an orderly line—and soldiers stood in organized formations.
He frowned. They cannot mean to leave today. Shaking his head, Halvor turned his horse down the left fork. After a short ride, a massive wooden wall breeched the forest. It was built better than most Verglas fortifications, and stones were stacked at the base.
“Captain Halvor—I expected you to arrive earlier.” A man wearing the Verglas uniform of a captain, a traveling cloak, and a helm strode away from the giant gates that divided the impressive structure. A gray beard leaked out of his helm, and he held the reins of a horse that was tacked up for a long journey.
Halvor dismounted. “I apologize for the delay; a wagon wheel broke in transit and had to be replaced.”
The older man waved a hand through the air. “No matter. I am Captain Sten—I wanted to walk you through the defenses before I leave.”
“Before you leave?”
“Indeed, we will set out as soon as your men can assume guard duties. That will be within an hour or two—yes?”
Unable to reply otherwise, Halvor said, “Yes.”
“Good. Your duties will be fairly straightforward. You can post your men as you see fit, but traditionally we keep four soldiers at the gates and three pairs patrolling up and down the wall. The doors open three times a day so Oskar—he’s the attendant, a braver man I’ve never met—may deliver food. It has never attempted escape, but one must remain alert and prepared.”
Halvor blinked. “It?”
“The magic user.”
Halvor’s already stiff expression turned tighter. She should be called by her title. The Princess may have magic, but she is of royal blood.
“The gate has several latche
s and bars,” Captain Sten rambled. “But there is no key. When the doors are opened for Oskar, we commonly have all guards on duty remain at the gates. The villagers are a fine, respectful people—you’ll have no trouble with them. Large supply shipments arrive once a month, but there is usually at least one additional small shipment that arrives with the messenger every three weeks. You will have to write up a full report for the King to review with every small shipment. That is all. Once my men are replaced, I formally give you command.”
Halvor—a devoted believer in organization—scowled. “You will leave just like that?”
“Yes, and when your time is up, you will as well,” Captain Sten said. “It makes your hair stand on end—guarding such a monster for long. Here is my report for the past two weeks. Good luck, Captain Halvor. I wish you all the best.”
After passing off a few papers, Captain Sten mounted up and departed with great haste.
Halvor, slightly taken aback by the messiness of the exchange, shuffled his newly acquired papers. I had better meet my men at Fyran and get the first patrol team in place. He glanced at the large, unfriendly walls, and had to hold back a shiver.
There was some truth to Captain Sten’s words. It was important to remember they were guarding a dangerous charge. Between her royal blood and her magical powers, there was a chance that the Princess could bring the country to its knees.
That evening, Halvor sat in the small building that served as soldiers’ mess hall and sifted through the papers Captain Sten had left behind. As promised, the captain had left immediately after his soldiers were relieved. Halvor was trying to create order from the disarray that was left behind. He had managed to sort his men into temporary patrol rotations, but he had drafted them with such haste, he knew he would have to revise them later.
Havlor grunted and pushed a copy of an old report away from him and rubbed his eyes.
“You should eat, Captain. The paperwork can wait; you’ll be here for at least a year or two.”
A tall man with brilliant red hair and a good-natured grin sat down at the table and placed a wooden plate piled with food in front of Halvor. “I’m Oskar—the Princess’s personal attendant.”
“Captain Halvor. I apologize, I should have sought you out earlier.”
Oskar leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “No, no. You had plenty to worry about with Sten’s hasty exit. But I wanted to make sure I introduced myself tonight.”
“I thank you.”
“It is my pleasure.”
“How long have you worked on Ensom Peak?” Halvor asked.
“Since the Princess was sent here,” Oskar said.
Halvor blinked. “You have been here for five years without a replacement?” No servants or soldiers were kept on the mountain that long. Perhaps he angered a noble, and this is his punishment.
“Of course,” Oskar said with a cheerful smile. “I’m a volunteer.”
Halvor eyed the attendant—suspicious of his motive.
No one would volunteer to serve the Princess out of the goodness of their heart. The only reason he had requested the position several months after receiving command over his squad was because he suspected at least one of his soldiers possessed magic.
Halvor distrusted magic, but he knew his men, and they were all honorable and good. None of them deserved the treatment they would face if they were outed as magic users. He hoped to use the time on Ensom to bind the soldiers together. If all went well, the other soldiers would cover for those who were cursed with magic. Besides, what better place was there to hide magic users than in the shadow of the most feared one in the country?
Perhaps Oskar has magic as well…
Oskar laughed at Halvor’s expression. “No, I’m not addled in the head, and I haven’t been struck by brain fever.”
“Then why?”
Oskar pressed his lips together and drummed his fingers on the table. “You seem to be an honorable sort of man, Captain Halvor. You are respected, based on the way your soldiers look at you, so there may be a chance you’ll actually listen.”
Halvor narrowed his eyes. “What are you trying to say?”
“That I volunteered because the princess deserves a servant. She’s not a monster who has murdered and plundered—though you would think so with the way everyone fears her. She’s only seventeen, and she is far more frightened of us than we are of her. She’s a child.”
“That may be so, but she has terrible powers that shouldn’t exist,” Halvor said.
Oskar quirked a red eyebrow. “Do you really think she wanted to have magic?”
“What she wants has nothing to do with her magic. Her royal blood and powers can be terrible weapons, regardless of her character. It is safest for everyone if she has no contact.”
Oskar shook his head. “When you are settled in your post, you should meet her, Captain.”
“I will do as my duty requires.”
“I see. I won’t bother you any longer. Good evening, Captain. I look forward to getting to know you further.”
The attendant was gone with a smile and a nod before Halvor could say anything more.
A child? Someone who possesses magic is never just a child. Halvor shook his head and returned his attention to his work, nibbling occasionally on some of the food Oskar had brought.
Three months into his new position, Halvor had seen only a glimpse of the princess. He questioned his men every day, but she was never out and about when the doors were opened for Oskar. It seemed whenever she was spotted, it was only for a moment before she disappeared into her ice castle.
As little as he looked forward to it, Halvor knew that in his position it was necessary to introduce himself to the princess, so he had asked Oskar if he could accompany him on one of his food deliveries.
“Of course,” the attendant had said. “But let me leave a note for the princess so she knows you wish to speak to her.”
“A note—you don’t see her?”
“Goodness, no. It’s rare if I set eyes on her more than once a week,” Oskar had said.
The news was unsettling, though Halvor couldn’t put his finger on the reason for it. Now, as he walked with Oskar through the open gates—cringing when they slammed shut behind them—he was filled with dread. I cannot show weakness, he vowed as they climbed the icy stairs of the castle. I will not be afraid.
“Princess,” Oskar said in a voice that was cheerful but respectful as he nudged an ice door open. “I’ve brought your lunch. Captain Halvor has come with me to meet you—as you agreed to. He is the Captain of the new guard unit that was rotated in recently.”
The doors opened up into an impressively built hallway. The air was chilly, but there were carvings and moldings in the walls like one would see in the Verglas Palace.
At the far end of the room—her back to them—was the princess. She wore a drab-colored Bunad, and her unnaturally white hair was gathered into an orderly braid.
As she started to turn, Halvor steeled himself, but he was assailed in a way he could have never predicted.
Princess Rakel—eldest of the King and Queen and rightful heir to the throne—never met his eyes. He caught a glance of her astoundingly blue eyes when she looked at Oskar before she lowered her gaze. She clasped her hands together and pressed them against her stomach in a gesture that was demure—though Halvor could see her hands shook with fright. Her posture was perfect but stiff, and she had placed herself far away from anything that could be remotely viewed as a weapon.
“Oskar, Captain Halvor,” she said. Her voice was frosty, but Halvor heard the wobble in it.
Though Oskar claimed she was seventeen, she didn’t look much older than fourteen, and everything—from her voice to the placement of her hands—spoke of fright.
Halvor bowed. “Princess.” He placed a hand on the hilt of his sword to keep it from sagging. The movement made her startle like a frightened rabbit.
This is what I am protecting Verglas from?
&n
bsp; Oskar placed the tray of food on an ice-forged table. “Enjoy your meal.” He bowed to the princess, beckoned Halvor to follow him out, and shut the doors of the castle behind them.
“That was it?” Halvor asked.
“What, she wasn’t the monster you were expecting?” Oskar drawled.
Halvor pressed his lips together and was silent. For the first time in his military career, he had doubts about his orders. No, he decided. Though she may not appear to be a monster, that could be a ploy. But even if it is not, this mountain is the safest place for her.
“Fyran is doomed, and Verglas is lost,” Oskar announced as he entered the mess hall.
“She said no?” Halvor asked.
“She said no,” Oskar confirmed as he plopped down on a bench.
Halvor grunted and continued cleaning his weapons, unsurprised. Princess Rakel had been kept prisoner on Ensom for twelve years—and for five of those years, he and his men had been her jailers. There was no reason for her to risk herself for them.
Oskar gave Knut a withering glare. “Though frankly, I’m surprised she didn’t kill us all as your trigger-happy soldier shot at her.”
The soldier cringed. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“You almost shot a princess, Knut. She is of royal blood, and I nearly had her support in saving the village. Sorry is the least you can feel,” the attendant snapped.
“You are dismissed, Knut. Try to get some rest before the attack,” Halvor said.
Oskar rubbed his eyes as the young soldier saluted and left. “She was almost with us, Halvor.”
“I cannot blame her for her decision, nor will I force her to die in a country that has done nothing but hate her. Before the attack begins, I will order my men to open the gates of her…enclosure.”
Oskar gave a croak of laughter. “As if that matchstick fence is what kept her here!”
“There is nothing more we can do,” Halvor said. “You asked, and she refused.”
“I know. But I wish it could have been different.” Oskar sighed, then slapped his knees. “I had best go prepare for battle myself. I’ll see you soon.”