Frozen Reign

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Frozen Reign Page 9

by Kathryn Purdie


  Kira saw them before I did. She released a shrill scream.

  Two corpses dangled from a high branch, their faces gray and mottling. Women.

  I couldn’t breathe. My gut wrenched in horror.

  Soldiers from our regiment galloped into view. Then Anton. When he saw the dead Auraseers, he pulled his reins so hard Oriel bucked.

  Genevie’s gaze didn’t break. She clumsily slid off her mare and stumbled closer to the women. She reached up and touched one of their boots. A quiet sob racked her shoulders.

  They must be Genevie’s friends. The other Auraseers.

  “Marguerite,” she cried on a fragile gasp of air.

  The rain pattered on the canopy. No one spoke. Kira wept softly, feeling Genevie’s pain. It must have mingled with her own horror. One of the dead women hanging above stared down with milky-white eyes. I swallowed hard. “Look away, Kira,” I whispered, turning her head to me.

  Tosya drew up beside us. I hadn’t noticed him ride in. He reached for Kira, and I passed her over to him with trembling arms. Thank you, I tried to say, but couldn’t speak. He nodded with understanding and pulled her into his saddle. With a click of his tongue, he guided his horse away, riding deeper into the forest and removing Kira from the awful scene.

  Genevie turned around, her face wet with tears. “Aidez-moi,” she said, her voice hoarse. When no one responded, she clenched her hands and shouted, “Do not stand there. Help me! They need to come down. We have to get them down!”

  Her hysteria snapped me into action. I jumped off Raina and rushed over to her. “Genevie.” I tried to embrace her, but she twisted away.

  “He did this!” She sobbed. “My friends didn’t have a bounty on their heads. They were worth nothing to him!”

  I held her back as the soldiers climbed the tree to cut the ropes.

  “He could have let them go!” She sobbed and pushed against my grip on her. “Why didn’t he let them go?” Her keening cries tore at my heart. “I’m sorry.” She stared up at the two Auraseers. “I’m so sorry.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. Pain pierced me. I felt for Genevie deeply, even without sensing her aura. Her shock was my own.

  In our tent I sat beside Genevie as she lay on her side. I sang her Romska songs and smoothed back her auburn hair. Tosya had given Kira his tent to sleep in and staked it near the one he’d be sharing with Anton. Separating Kira from Genevie for the night would be a kindness, we agreed. Seeing two dead bodies had been traumatic enough without adding the burden of Genevie’s grief.

  Now Genevie stared at the wall of our tent, her gaze numb and disillusioned, or so I imagined from her vacant and withered expression. “It wasn’t your fault.” I squeezed her shoulder.

  “I know.” Her voice cut raggedly from hours spent crying. “It is the bounty hunter’s fault. It is Estengarde’s fault.”

  I lowered my head and gently drew away my hand. It was my fault, too. I’d never asked for Genevie’s friends to believe I was a grande voyante. Still, my example had encouraged them to run from their masters and meet their terrible fates.

  Marguerite’s dead and clouded eyes still stared down at me. Éliane’s stretched and bruised neck shot bile up my throat. I swallowed and focused on the comforting sounds of the dwindling storm, the intermittent rainfall on the ceiling of our tent, the wending breeze across the rippling canvas.

  “I lost my friend Pia in a similar way.” My voice caught when I tried to say more. I drew in a shaky breath of surprise. How easily I was able to connect to Genevie, even without my awareness. “A bounty hunter brought her to Valko, although she was innocent, and the emperor executed her just to bait her lover.” My eyes blurred, remembering Pia’s beautiful radiance. She’d brought joy to my dark days as Valko’s sovereign Auraseer. “I understand more than you may think.”

  Genevie blinked slowly, her only reaction to my words. “Do you think it is wrong to seek revenge?”

  I contemplated her. “Maybe.” Valko’s smug grin and razor-sharp glare blazed to mind—the look he’d given me when he’d abducted Dasha. “But it isn’t wrong to seek justice.”

  Her face held its stony expression, but a tear slid down her cheek and onto her nose. She didn’t wipe it away.

  I clasped her hand, holding it firmly, though her fingers fell slack. “You’re not alone.” I knew what I needed to do. It became as clear as a cloudless sky. And it shouldn’t have taken the death of Genevie’s friends for me to see it. I should have given her my commitment the first day we’d met. “I’m going to help you.”

  She turned her head to me. “Help me do what?”

  “Free the rest of your friends.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  OVER THE NEXT SEVERAL DAYS, TOSYA KEPT A KEEN WATCH for signs of the Esten mountain tribes—tokens tied to branches, subtle carvings on tree trunks, arranged patterns of stones off the sides of winding roads. That was also how the Riaznian Romska communicated with each other, so other caravans could track their whereabouts during their continuous travels. But Tosya found nothing, and his usually optimistic demeanor started failing. I could understand why. Motshan and the other Riaznian Romska chiefs were counting on him to find the mountain tribes’ secret footholds in the Bayacs.

  One day in the chilly peaks, our narrow road crossed the switchbacks of another path in the great mountain range. Tosya brought his horse, Hanzi, to a halt by a wild cypress and a stunted oak tree. “I should venture off alone, even without a sign,” he told me.

  “That’s a terrible idea.” I shivered against an icy wind, my cloak cocoon-wrapped around my shoulders. “You can’t wander off directionless. In a year, you couldn’t cover all the ground of the Bayacs. Besides, winter will soon be upon us. You’ll catch your death all alone up here.”

  Tosya gave me a lopsided grin. “I’m a nomad. I’m built for hard travel.”

  I leveled my gaze at him. “You’re a nomad spoiled by spending your winters in the southlands.” Already, his teeth were chattering. “You wouldn’t know what to do if a snowstorm hit you.”

  “Obviously build a snowman. I’m not dense.”

  I snorted and my chest warmed. Even Kira, riding with me, cracked a smile. She’d barely spoken since the day we’d stumbled upon the dead Auraseers. “I refuse to let you leave right now, Tosya.” I raised my chin. “I’ll drag you behind me with a lasso if I have to.”

  He chuckled. “No need to get violent.” With a grumbling sigh, he cast his gaze over the switchbacks one last time. “Very well. I suppose if I can’t find the mountain tribes on the way to Alaise, I can try again on our return journey.”

  But three days later, just off a forking path, he finally located a clear sign of the Esten Romska: a rope of painted beads strung around a tree branch, and two slashes carved on the trunk. It meant the tribe’s camp was two days in that direction. Tosya prepared to leave at once.

  As I handed him some of my rationed food, ensuring he had enough, he kept staring at me and nibbling at the corner of his mouth. Was he nervous to travel on his own? No, his mood seemed to involve more than mere worrying over himself. Misgiving knotted through my stomach.

  He cleared his throat. “I should take Kira with me.”

  I dropped the salted venison I’d been wrapping in a handkerchief. “What? No.”

  “Think about it, Sonya.” He knelt and picked up the meat. “Kira will be safer with the nomads than if she goes with you to Alaise.”

  “We won’t tell the Estens she’s an Auraseer.”

  “And how will Anton explain to the king why he’s brought a child with his delegation?”

  My mouth parted, then closed. I had no idea.

  Horse hooves clopped behind me and picked their way up the rocky path. I glanced over my shoulder and startled to see Kira riding with Genevie. When had they paired up? Kira was supposed to be riding with Anton today—his idea so I could rest from riding so cramped in the saddle.

  I scrutinized Genevie’s relaxed demeanor and Kira’s eas
y smile. The little girl looked up at me and waved. I exhaled slowly, relieved to find them doing so well together. I’d labored to keep them apart, trying to protect Kira from Genevie’s grief. But I’d underestimated the sisterhood of Auraseers, the comfort of their shared and echoed ability.

  Yearning throbbed in my chest. I glanced away and wrapped my arms around myself. “How can you guarantee the Esten tribes will welcome Kira this time?” I asked Tosya. “She doesn’t have Romska blood.” That was the reason Motshan hadn’t admitted her into his Riaznian caravan last spring, even though I’d begged him to. I was worried about Feliks threatening her even then.

  “That was different,” Tosya replied. “Motshan didn’t feel it was right to take Kira from her parents. I’m confident the Esten tribes will help me look after a stranded child. When you and Anton are finished in Alaise, you can come back here for us.” He pointed down the forked path. “I’ll make sure there are signs all the way to the encampment. We’ll wait here to travel back to Riaznin with you.”

  I sighed, my nose stinging in the cold mountain air. I felt a personal responsibility to watch over Kira, but I knew in my gut Tosya was right; she would be safer with the Romska, at least until I’d regained my power. If that ever happened.

  “Treat her like you would a sister,” I said, surrendering to what was best for Kira. “Like you would treat me.”

  He smirked. “You mean tease her relentlessly and write a poem that exploits her abilities to all Riaznin?” When I didn’t laugh, he scratched his head under his wool cap. “Too soon?”

  “Much too soon.”

  He sobered and touched my arm. “You know I’m very sorry about that, right?”

  “I know.”

  “But I wouldn’t have written it if I didn’t believe every word.”

  I lifted my eyes and held his gaze.

  “The people need a symbol to rally around, and whether you like it or not, you’re inspiring.”

  “Even without my power?”

  He shrugged. “Still inspiring, still powerful.” I scoffed and shook my head. “You’re more empathetic than you think, Sonya”—Tosya jostled my shoulder—“or else you wouldn’t be so gentle with Genevie or concerned about Kira. You’re attentive when they grow quiet. You help them before they ask. You could help Riaznin, too, just the way you are.”

  He enveloped me in one of his brotherly hugs that made me feel like we were children again, like I was safe in his care, even if everything else in the world felt like it was falling apart. “May Feya watch over you until we meet again,” he said, acknowledging the goddess I’d grown to believe in. “If she’s real, she’ll help you. You’re Riaznin’s best hope.”

  Kira jumped off Genevie’s horse and ran to me. “Sonya, did you see that waterfall off the road?” Her cheeks flushed a cheerful pink. “Genevie says we’ll see an even bigger one tomorrow!”

  My chest ached, and I glanced at Tosya. He gave me a reassuring nod. I knelt before Kira and took both her hands in mine. “I’ll be sure to tell you all about it when I see you again.”

  Her smile fell. I saw the moment she finally absorbed Tosya’s aura. Her eyes glossed with tears. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice thinning to a fragile gasp of air. “Why won’t I see the waterfall?”

  “Because you can’t journey with us any longer. It isn’t safe for you in Alaise. Tosya is going to take you with him to stay with the Esten Romska for a while—just until we all travel back to Riaznin together.”

  “No!” Her fingers tightened around my hands. “I want to be with you!”

  “Oh, Kira, I want to be with you, too. But think of Sestra Mirna. Can you imagine how would she have felt if I put you in any more danger?” The weight of the words I’d spoken at the sestra’s grave pulled at my heart. I promise to do what you’d do in my place. I’ll bring Dasha and Kira back here safely. “And what about Dasha? You’re more important to her than anyone. Even if I regain my power, do you think I can persuade her to leave Valko if she doesn’t have you to come back to?”

  Kira bit her lip and shook her head, her tears streaking to her chin.

  “Come.” Tosya offered her his open hand. “Good-byes are easier when they’re quick. Besides, I have so many Romska songs to sing to you. You’re going to love ‘The Ballad of the Swarming Gnat.’ I wrote that one myself.” He winked at her.

  She didn’t laugh, but she squared her small shoulders and shuffled over to him.

  As Tosya rode away with her, she kept glancing back at me with watery eyes and a trembling mouth. Guilt overwhelmed me. I waited until she was out of sight, and then I choked on a dry sob. Anton, who had caught up to us, came over and brought me into his arms. “You made the right choice,” he whispered.

  I leaned my cheek into the crook of his neck. “Why are the right choices the hardest?”

  He kissed the crown of my head. With one last look at Kira and Tosya, we departed the peaks of the Bayacs and began our descent.

  Five days later, we emerged onto flatland. La Forêt Royale—the vast “Royal Forest” separating the capital city from the Bayacs—spread before us. We rode through it at breakneck speed, cutting the remaining two-day journey six hours shorter, our horses finally getting a chance to stretch their legs on the wide, smooth road.

  My tailbone ached. My thighs cramped. My hands gripping Raina’s reins were numb and calloused. I didn’t care. Madame Perle was near. My power was within reach. Genevie, however, looked the opposite of excited. As she rode on horseback, her shoulders hunched over her chest. As she walked across camp, her arms folded tightly across her body.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked on the last night of our journey. By tomorrow afternoon, we would finally arrive in Alaise.

  “Oui,” she said, though dark rings had surfaced beneath her eyes. The skin of her face was sallow, despite the warm lantern light of our tent and made the freckles sprayed across her nose and cheeks pale. “I am only growing weary of all the men.” She shuddered as the sound of soldiers laughing in the distance traveled to us.

  I tried to find the root of her discomfort. Genevie had grown accustomed to those in our regiment, so I suspected her unease had more to do with a man who wasn’t here, a man she’d likely encounter very soon. “If you’re worried about Floquart, he won’t recognize you by the time I’m finished.” Monsieur de Bonpré was the king’s most trusted advisor, and as such, we’d have a difficult time avoiding him. But thanks to the makings of a disguise I’d purchased from a passing merchant today, I prayed Genevie would go unnoticed. Tomorrow she would enter the Esten castle disguised as another Riaznian Auraseer in Anton’s delegation.

  “I hope you are right,” she replied, lying down on the packed-earth floor of our tent while I plastered a doughy poultice of black dye over her hair. She sighed. “I am sorry to be so sullen. I do not wish to take away from your eagerness to meet Madame Perle.”

  My hand froze along her hairline. “Do you . . . feel my eagerness?” How else could she have known? I hadn’t spoken about Madame Perle for several days. I hadn’t wanted to be insensitive to Genevie’s period of mourning for her friends.

  She broke into a humored smile that flushed much-needed color to her cheeks. “Your emotions are easy to see, Sonya. I do not need to feel them.”

  My shoulders fell. “Oh.” I gave a weak grin, embarrassed by my surge of disappointment. Had I really thought my aura would awaken so easily?

  She watched me for a moment, her finger idly scratching a rough stone on the ground. “Madame Perle will be honored to meet you.” Genevie was trying to cheer me up, I realized.

  My emotions really were plain to see.

  I bit my lip. “You told her about me?”

  “Of course. Your story inspired her, too.”

  My chest fluttered with warmth. I lowered my gaze, spreading more of the poultice behind Genevie’s ear. “I’ll be honored to meet her, as well.” Under the empire, Riaznian sovereign Auraseers had been chosen by seniority
to serve our emperors, unlike Madame Perle, who had been chosen because of her level of talent. It must have been awe-inspiring. “I wonder why King Léopold preferred an Auraseer like her, one that can help recall buried memories.”

  Genevie swiped away a bit of poultice that dropped near her eye. “King Léopold’s father suffered from . . . in Esten, we call it insanité sénile?”

  “Senile insanity?”

  She nodded. “A madness caused by memory loss. The king feared he might one day suffer the same fate, so he hoped Madame Perle could help prevent it. None of this is known to the Esten court, of course. King Léopold does not want anyone thinking he might have a weakness. He keeps Madame Perle sequestered, along with his secret.”

  Any rosiness I’d envisioned regarding Madame Perle’s lifestyle in the castle turned to dismal gray. At least I’d been able to leave my room when I’d served Valko as his sovereign Auraseer. “I hope it won’t be too difficult to see her,” I said, remembering how Genevie had said she knew a secret way into Madame Perle’s chambers. “How soon do you think we can manage it?” My palms itched with another flare of anticipation.

  She sighed. “Not straightaway. Once we arrive at the castle, it is the Esten custom for distinguished foreign guests to be bathed and perfumed before we are received by the king. He pretends the custom is to honor his guests, but the truth is he does not want foreigners to sully his court.”

  I arched a brow, spreading on the last of the poultice behind Genevie’s left ear. “King Léopold sounds like a charming man.”

  She scoffed. “He is a pompous fool, but I can forgive him for that. At least he is not cruel.” Her nostrils flared slightly, and her eyes shut, fluttering as she held them closed. “I have learned what I know about the king because Floquart required me to be his spy. I know almost everything that happened at the castle, and when I failed, Floquart . . .” A vein along her brow surfaced, pulsing as she pressed her trembling mouth closed against saying more.

  Aching to give her comfort, I moved to squeeze her shoulder but stopped myself as my hand was coated in ashy poultice. “Don’t let that man steal another moment of your peace. We’ll wear weapons beneath our dresses and stick together, all right? I won’t let him trouble you again.”

 

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