Frozen Reign

by Kathryn Purdie

  Anton had returned.

  He gave the horses a light whip to urge the troika along. He was clean-shaven, and his longer, windblown hair softened his appearance, a regal bearing I doubted he would ever lose.

  As the guards opened the gate and Anton passed through, I stepped closer to the drive leading to the stable. His gaze shifted to where I stood in the snowy field, fifteen feet away.

  Warmth trickled through my limbs, despite the cold. I had first laid eyes on Anton like this, as he’d driven a team of three horses. I’d never guessed the stoic prince who came to fetch me from the convent, bringing the emperor his next sovereign Auraseer, would capture the deepest reaches of my heart.

  He pulled the horses to a halt and grinned, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Can you sense me from here?”

  I nodded, drawing my braid in front of my shoulder, suddenly shy and unsure what to do with myself. I wondered if I looked presentable or if I resembled an icicle wearing a sarafan.

  “What am I feeling, then?”

  The rush of thoughts I’d just had made better sense. I’d absorbed his emotions. “Nervous. But why?”

  He ducked his head a little. “Because now you’ll be able to scrutinize every last whit of my aura. I was rather enjoying the freedom I had around you.”

  I bubbled with laughter. “Admit it, you missed this Sonya.” I waved a hand at myself.

  Anton’s eyes grew soft, and I shivered under the power of his adoration. “I missed you, regardless of your abilities, though I’m glad they bring you happiness.”

  I closed the distance between myself and the troika. “Are you going to make me climb up there to say a proper hello?”

  He nodded. “I was hoping you’d join me on a romantic, fifty-yard journey to the stable.”

  I offered my hand, and he lifted me onto the platform of the sleigh. “I should warn you,” I said, joining him on the bench seat, “I’m known to behave strangely while riding in troikas. I’m liable to fall into a fit of hysteria.”

  His mouth quirked. “Don’t worry, I’ve been told I have very distracting eyes, the color of butter when it simmers in a pot and smells dark and nutty.”

  I snorted. “Did I really say that?”

  “You did.” His gaze grew intimate with the memory. “I might have fallen in love with you then.” He made a clicking sound with his tongue and snapped the reins. The three horses broke into a light run and pulled the troika down the drive.

  A few moments later, we came to a stop inside the darkened stable. The smell of hay surrounded us, along with floating dust and the gentle auras of horses. Anton didn’t unhitch his team from the troika just yet. He drifted closer to me, found the end of my braid, and untied the string holding it together. He tenderly unwove my hair and kissed the tender spot on my neck just below my jawline. Our lips met next, and our hands twined together.

  Soon our noses were no longer cold and our bodies were warm. The horses nickered, and the late-afternoon sun shafting through the stable dimmed to the delicate twilight of winter. My fingers trailed across Anton’s inner forearm and brushed over his lynx-shaped birthmark. “I love you,” I said. “My heart is full.”

  Anton was needed back in Torchev soon, but he promised to stay with me for as long as possible. I walked on light feet while he was at the convent, sure I must be radiating a rosy glow for how fluttery and warm and wonderful I felt.

  He spent time with Dasha, too, so she could get to know him better. Three days after his arrival, Kira and I tiptoed to the upstairs study hall, where the two of them had been spending the afternoon together. I labored to keep my breathing steady while Kira did the same, her mouth pursed in concentration. “Are you ready?” I asked her. She nodded and adjusted her grip on the tray in her hands. I knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Anton called.

  We stepped into the room and found Anton and Dasha seated at two desks drawn together. I exhaled, focusing on the even cadence of my heartbeat, and gave what I hoped was a natural, inconspicuous smile. “Kira and I baked something, and we want you two to be the first to taste it.”

  Dasha’s head popped up from the drawing she’d been working on. “What is it?”

  I prodded Kira forward and lifted the lid on her tray. “Cake,” I replied, revealing a large slice for them to share.

  “I glazed it myself,” Kira added, her voice flat.

  Anton grinned and set down his quill. “It looks delicious.”

  “Thank you,” Kira replied without looking him in the eye.

  I pulled two forks from my apron pocket and passed them over. “You should both taste it at the same time.”

  They dug in, lifting generous helpings to their mouths. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to stay composed. My emotions must have slipped, however, because Dasha’s fork paused before the cake reached her tongue. Anton, on the other hand, began chewing with gusto. One second later, he blanched and started coughing.

  Kira and I snorted, erupting into giggles.

  Anton’s eyes watered, and he covered his mouth, gagging down a hard swallow. I cringed with his aversion, but couldn’t stop laughing. “You’ve poisoned me,” he said, chuckling with us. “What is this?”

  “A cake to honor Feya,” Kira said.

  “Baked with salt instead of sugar,” I added. Kira and I had made the cake to honor Sestra Mirna, as well.

  “Then the goddess might spend her holiday with a bellyache,” Anton replied, which made Kira giggle even harder. Today was Feya’s Holy Day, an occasion I doubted anyone beyond the Auraseers at this convent celebrated. According to legend, on this very day, centuries ago, Feya blessed the first woman, Darya, with the gift to sense aura. “Please tell me you’re not serving this at the party.”

  Kira set her tray on a nearby desk. “We baked a regular cake, too.”

  “For those with weak stomachs,” I said, throwing a teasing glance at Anton. “Maybe I’ll give you a slice if you dance with me tonight.”

  He lifted a brow. “A price I’ll gladly pay.”

  Dasha sniffed the bite on her fork. “Can I try the good cake, too?”

  “Only if you dance with someone, too,” Anton replied. “I hear the blacksmith in Ormina has a boy near your age.”

  She pulled a face. “Boys are disgusting.”

  He looked affronted. “Even me?”

  “You don’t count.” She dipped her quill in an inkwell to resume her sketching, then snuck a peek at the drawing Anton was also working on. “Though you’re not a very good artist.”

  He tilted his head at his parchment. A lock of dark hair fanned across his eye. “I agree.”

  She shifted to sit taller in her chair, and the strings of her cap swung back and forth. Dasha had taken to wearing the hat Sestra Mirna had given her so she would break her habit of hair-pulling, this time of her own volition. “You’re pushing too hard on the tip of your quill,” she said matter-of-factly. “That’s why your lynx looks like a fat blob.”

  A couple of days ago, Anton had told Dasha the story behind their matching birthmarks, and since then she’d become obsessed with lynxes. “A female lynx can give birth to as much as four kittens in her litter,” she’d announced to anyone listening in the convent library yesterday. Glancing at the book she was reading from, she added, “Lynxes can also walk on top of snow. Do you know why?” No one did. “Their round feet act like snowshoes.” A couple of Auraseers nodded appreciatively, humoring her. Dasha then turned to Nadia. “Do we have any snowshoes?”

  I’m not sure if Dasha understands that the shape of our birthmarks isn’t the point, Anton had confessed to me last night, feeling nervous about building a strong relationship with Dasha, especially after all the damage Valko had done to her.

  I’d laughed and kissed Anton’s cheek. She just wants to bond with you over something. Let it be lynxes. He’d taken my words to heart, for here he was the next day, drawing fat blobs with his sister.

  “I’ll help you with the wh
iskers.” Dasha set her small hand over his and guided his quill. “See how much nicer that is? But next time we should use charcoal. Valko says . . .” As soon as Valko’s name spilled from Dasha’s lips, her hand froze over Anton’s. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

  He glanced down at her, his eyes full of compassion. Their shared grief tightened my chest. “Did Valko draw with you, too?” Anton asked, no judgment in his tone.

  “No, but one time when we had to camp with his army, I got bored, and so he found me some paper and charcoal.”

  Anton nodded. “I have nice memories with Valko, too,” he said, and told her the one he had told me, about him fishing with Valko at the pond on the palace grounds. “I’ll take you there sometime. We can feed the fish instead of catch them. That way you won’t feel any pain.”

  Dasha looked up at her brother with her large gray eyes. Her aura warmed. “Tonight I can dance with you, too, if you want.”

  Anton wrapped his fingers over hers. “I would be honored.”

  When the time for the celebration drew near, the Riaznian Auraseers asked me to reign over the festivities representing Darya, the first Auraseer, but I never wore the juniper-and-cedar wreath crown. Instead, I gave it to Nadia. Maybe a gesture of kindness could help heal old wounds as well as a spark of trauma. “Thank you for all you have done for the convent,” I said to her. “Because of you, Sestra Mirna’s legacy lives on.”

  “Because of you, too.” Nadia arched a brow. “I certainly don’t intend to manage this place alone. Though I will wear this crown.” She smirked and placed it on her head.

  I laughed and helped her set it at the most flattering angle. Her burn scars and swirling tattoos appeared different somehow, less threatening, more beautiful—marking a past she’d made peace with. “It looks lovely with your eyes,” I said. “Tosya will be smitten.”

  And he was.

  He returned that evening, after days of visiting with the Romska, and when he saw her again, supervising a group of girls as they laid evergreen boughs on the tables, warm tendrils of his aura spread toward her.

  At the feast, they sat beside each other, across from where I was seated between Anton and Genevie. Candles arranged in greenery glowed from every table in the dining hall, and the falling snow outside collected in corners of the windowpanes. “Look at them, all together here,” Genevie whispered to me, her eyes traveling over each girl and woman in the room. “This is what we worked for, Sonya, and it is even more wonderful than I imagined.”

  I took her hand and lightly squeezed it. “And all the more wonderful because you are here to share it with me.”

  As everyone ate, Nadia recited the origin story of Auraseers, and the twins, Ilona and Irina, sang a duet to honor Feya, as well as an old Riaznian folk song. It was a haunting melody, but it also retained hope, as the notes lifted from a minor key and brightened in a resounding major chord. Anton listened intently, leaning back in his chair. When the song ended, he stood and cleared his throat, his aura simmering with anticipation. I raised my brows. I didn’t know he had planned to speak.

  “Some of you may know that, a few days ago, the Duma agreed to admit another member onto their ruling council.” He lifted his glass to his best friend, seated across from us. “Congratulations, Tosya.”

  I grinned, nudging Tosya’s leg under the table with my foot, and he winked at me.

  “While I’m grateful someone of Romska blood will be advocating for the nomadic tribes,” Anton went on, “they aren’t the only group of people who have been denied representation in our government until now.” He looked at the twenty-six girls and women in the hall. “You have been, as well. I’ve pleaded to the Duma on your behalf, and they have consented not only to grant the Esten Auraseers full citizenship in Riaznin, but also to admit an Auraseer governor onto our council.”

  Gasps sounded throughout the room, followed by a rush of excited whispers. Everyone’s buoyant energy tumbled inside me. I stared at Anton, my smile broadening. Under the empire, Auraseers had been little more than a class of slaves. Now we could take an active role in government and help shape the future of Riaznin.

  “There is much yet to do in our nation,” he said. “Conflicts still besiege us. The imperialists are unsatisfied with the outcome of the civil war. The Shenglin are steadily retreating, but we may have to grant them land along our eastern border to settle old quarrels. Not everyone on the Duma sees eye to eye.”

  Feliks immediately sprang to mind. His extreme measures would always pose a challenge. But when Anton had returned to Torchev, he’d accused Feliks of all his trespasses in front of the Duma. And although Anton couldn’t prove that Feliks was guilty in every instance, Feliks had, nevertheless, become more restrained since that time. The growing peace in Riaznin and Tosya’s new poem should also make him stop hounding me and threatening those I loved.

  “Learning and growing from other people is the beauty of democracy, even if that growth is painful,” Anton continued. “We could use your help in this work. And so, if you find the idea agreeable, I propose that you discuss the matter over the next few days and elect one of your own to represent Riaznin’s Auraseers on the Duma.” He smiled warmly at everyone and bowed his head to show he was done speaking.

  As soon as he took his seat, Nadia said, “It should be Sonya.”

  My fork clattered to my plate. “What?”

  “You have the most experience in government.” She shrugged indifferently, but the earnest pulse of her aura reached the core of my fluttering stomach. “You served under the emperor, and you were in Torchev during the transition to the new regime. You’re the most qualified.”

  “I agree,” Genevie said from beside me. “Sonya also has made the most sacrifices to help Auraseers and your nation—my nation,” she amended, her cheeks flushing.

  “But . . .” Tension corded my muscles. I glanced at the hushed women and girls. “Doesn’t anyone else desire to be nominated?”

  Two tables away, Lara set down her glass. “We Estens still need to learn how to be Riaznians before we consider governing them.”

  “And we Riaznians came here for sanctuary and learning,” Tamryn added. “We aren’t ready for anything more.”

  “Don’t you want to be a governor?” Anton asked me.

  I turned suspicious eyes on him. “Did you put them up to this?”

  He held up his hands. “I believe in the freedom of choice . . . although, I admit, I did hope.” The side of his mouth lifted. “What’s holding you back?”

  I looked at Dasha and Kira at the other end of my table. The girls sat so closely their shoulders touched. I had braided ribbons through their hair today. Yesterday, I’d taken them on a ride to the coast on Raina. The three of us had laughed, trying to squeeze into my saddle together. “They need me,” I whispered to Anton. I twisted my fingers in my lap and added, “I need them.”

  “You could still live here.” He placed his hand on my knee. “The Duma convenes for a few days every month. The rest of the time you could live at the convent.”

  A tingling sense of hopefulness danced across my skin. “I suppose serving on the Duma would put me in the best position to ensure Auraseers’ equal rights and opportunities.” Especially Dasha’s and Kira’s.

  “It would.” Anton’s golden eyes drifted deeper into mine. My pulse slowed to match his balanced heartbeats. I didn’t feel pressure from him, only calm confidence and faith. His belief in me was unshakeable. “You were born for this, Sonya.”

  My mind cleared like the sun on summer solstice. I was about to declare that I’d accepted—I would be governor, but then I realized . . . “Don’t they need to vote?”

  He grinned. “Yes, they do.”

  He took my half-curled hand, and I opened it. Our palms slid together.

  “Raise your hand if you elect Sonya Petrova to represent the Auraseers on the Duma as we usher in a new and free Riaznin,” Anton said, addressing all the women and girls in the dining hall.
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br />   I gazed over each of their faces, those who had lived in hiding like me, those who hadn’t yet learned to train their abilities, those who had felt lost, alone, abused, disheartened, or afraid. I identified with each of them. I understood the flowing pulses of their auras, not only because they glided on the waves of my awareness, but because I also had so much in common with them. The people of Riaznin still had much to learn about unity and peace, but here in this room, harmony and respect abided. Anton was right. Auraseers could offer a great deal to our nation, if Riaznin would give us the chance. I vowed to do everything in my power to make that happen as I advocated for my sisters.

  They must have felt the strength of my determination. I hoped they also felt my sincere respect.

  Every Auraseer raised their hand.

  Warmth pulsed over me in waves, reverberating as our shared joy coursed through the unbroken chain of sisterhood.

  In that moment, I knew I loved every one of them.

  And I knew, here among them, I had found my true home.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’ve written a trilogy! I could never have done this alone. Many hugs and endless gratitude goes to:

  My editor, Maria Barbo, a brilliant lady who I’ve come to love so much. Thanks for understanding and championing Sonya.

  Stephanie Guerdan, Maria’s wonderful and timely assistant.

  My publisher, Katherine Tegen, and her warm and amazing team at Katherine Tegen Books.

  Josh and Tracey Adams, my agents and two of the most incredible people I know. I’m indebted to you both.

  Jason, my loving husband. Anton doesn’t hold a candle to you. Thanks for your pure belief in me.

  My children, Isabelle, Aidan, and Ivy. You bring me joy and laughter and keep me grounded.

  Sara B. Larson, my author bestie and the biggest cheerleader of this trilogy since day one.

  Emily R. King, my dear friend. When I paint myself in corners, your brilliance saves me.