Of Ice and Shadows

by Audrey Coulthurst

  I recognized their skirmish saddles and the cut of their clothing immediately. The woman’s dark green split caftan fell almost clear to her ankles, the color a striking accompaniment to the black hair contained in a tight coil at the nape of her neck. The man’s jerkin was the same style as the one I remembered Lord Kriantz’s men wearing, and my stomach turned at the thought of my abductor. Sometimes I couldn’t believe he was dead, and I expected to see him one day walking toward me, alive, with the same savage look he’d had on his face when he murdered my best friend.

  “Guardian Laurenna said we’d find accommodations for the horses here?” the woman said to the stablehand. Her Tradespeech was smooth and practiced, as though she’d learned by studying it rather than immersion.

  “Yes, yes,” the stablehand said, and guided them toward the two empty stalls on the other side of Flicker’s, inquiring about whether they’d prefer to care for the horses themselves or have him do it.

  I pretended to be occupied with currying the dust and sweat from Flicker’s coat as I felt the woman’s gaze land on my horse.

  “If your people are capable of taking care of that one, I will trust you with mine.” She passed the split reins to the stablehand, and he led her light bay gelding into the stall alongside Flicker’s.

  I bristled. For all the respect her people had for our warhorses, they certainly hadn’t shown any to our people.

  With their horses handed off, the two riders left the barn. I put Flicker in his stall and tossed him some hay. For his part, my horse didn’t seem perturbed by his new stablemate. He raised his head and then blew out a sigh before going back to his food. Traitor.

  As soon as the stablehand finished with the Sonnenborne horses and had rushed away to his next task, I stepped over to the bars dividing Flicker’s stall from the one occupied by Alek’s horse.

  “How can they be here?” I asked in a low voice. “Textile merchants in the city are one thing, but how can the Winter Court allow Sonnenbornes right now?”

  “Everyone is judged on their own merits here,” he said. “Something you should be grateful for.”

  I ignored his jab. “That doesn’t make any sense!” I said, my voice rising. “How can anyone be sure these two weren’t complicit in the attack on Duvey? How do you know they can be trusted?”

  “I don’t,” Alek said. “It’s Laurenna and Zhari’s problem, not mine.”

  “This place makes no sense,” I ranted, turning away from him and exiting Flicker’s stall. Denna waited for me outside, casting a furtive look down the barn aisle, but no one else was around. “How does anyone stay safe here? How has the Winter Court not been taken over by whoever decides to waltz through the front door and just start murdering people?”

  Alek chuckled as he exited his horse’s stall, only fueling my anger. “Now you’re starting to understand. Do you Mynarians even know how the Zumordan throne is passed on?”

  I looked at Denna, but she only shrugged. If she knew anything, she wasn’t going to risk saying so in front of Alek.

  “Gladiatorial combat,” Alek said. “The challenger must fight three of the reigning monarch’s champions and then defeat the monarch herself.”

  “What?” That made Zumorda sound more like a dictatorship than a monarchy.

  “Zumordans respect power—the power of an individual, their magic, and their manifest.” Alek dropped brushes back into the box outside his horse’s stall.

  I stared at him. “So I’m powerless here.”

  “You’re the one who will determine that,” he said, and strode out of the barn to the north.

  “Do you believe what he’s saying?” I asked Denna, hoping she could make sense of everything and give me some hope that I wasn’t doomed to failure.

  “This place is definitely very different from Mynaria or Havemont,” she said, ever the diplomat.

  “But how in the Sixth Hell am I supposed to play social climber in a court where people allow the enemy to walk right in the front door and murder each other to prove their power?” I asked.

  She met my eyes, and though I could see the exhaustion in hers, she radiated a quiet strength I wished I had. “You’re no fool,” she said. “Watch and listen. Take your cues from those around you and you’ll find your way.”

  Denna and I hurried out of the barn and followed Alek to the merchants’ hall. Inside, the building attendant, a tall, angular woman with bright blue eyes, showed us to Alek’s room first. The chamber was barely larger than a closet and didn’t have its own bathroom.

  “Please thank Guardian Laurenna for this,” he said to the attendant, then entered his room and shut the door harder than was necessary.

  I covered my mouth, barely managing to hide a snicker. As rude as he was to me, it was rather amusing to see someone else get the best of him, even with something as subtle as a room.

  There wasn’t much to the chamber we’d been given at the other end of the hall—just a simply furnished room containing a bed, a vanity, a small wardrobe, and a chaise Denna was apparently intended to sleep on as my maid. A short rack of wine bottles sat alongside the vanity, with four glasses perched on the top. The only decoration was a gray rug on the floor that had clearly seen better days.

  “Should we be insulted that they gave us rooms in the merchants’ hall?” I asked Denna, tossing my pack on the floor near the bed. “We’re nowhere near the rest of the court.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Alek’s room was clearly an insult, but there is some respect and caution in putting you here away from the other courtiers.”

  “But why?” I asked.

  “Based on what we’ve seen and what Alek said, power here has to do with one’s ability to use magic,” I said. “Those with gifts naturally outrank those who have none.” She stripped off her dirty cloak and sat down on the vanity stool.

  “That clears up why the gate guard was confused that you worked for me instead of the other way around,” I said.

  “Putting you in a building with a large number of magic users would be dangerous. How would you defend yourself if something happened over there?” She stared at me with worried eyes.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” I said. “And I suppose it would also put me in a better position to go around killing important people, if that were my objective.”

  “That too,” she said.

  “Six Hells, I’m exhausted.” I lay back on the bed, wishing I could go to sleep instead of to a cocktail party full of backstabbing and potentially murderous courtiers.

  “You’d best take your bath before the water gets cold,” Denna said, pointing to the tub that had been filled for me in the washing chamber.

  I groaned but obediently got to my feet. “What am I even supposed to do at this thrice-damned party?”

  “See if Alek can introduce you to anyone, and barring that, see what you can pick up,” Denna said. “When one doesn’t know what to say at court, the best thing to do is listen.”

  “You are the only reason I have any hope of not completely sarding this up.” I smiled at Denna, grateful that we were once more somewhere we could speak as equals. In so many ways, she was my superior.

  “You’re picking up language from Alek. That can’t be good,” she teased.

  “What would be good is if you came and shared the bath with me while it’s still warm,” I said, tugging off my boots and tossing them aside.

  She smiled shyly, her cheeks turning pink.

  I winked and walked to the washroom, confident she’d follow.

  My first attempt to ingratiate myself at court went about as well as trying to train a horse to crap star-shaped road apples. The cocktail party was held at the residence of one of the Winter Court’s respected nobles in a much larger building than the modest merchants’ hall. Stepping through the door into the gilded ballroom immediately filled me with the familiar dread that came with attending any court function, even though the decor and sartorial splendor were of an entirely different var
iety than I’d seen back home. Tall columns wrapped with gold-leaf vines stood throughout the room, clusters of nobles mingling among them. Pastel colors seemed to dominate this season’s fashion, and I could not have felt more out of place dressed in my dark blue formal Mynarian livery. It wasn’t as if Alek was any help, either. His expression as the herald announced us together held all the joy of freshly flattened roadkill.

  “I present Her Royal Highness, Princess Amaranthine of Mynaria, and Sir Alek of the Misty Plains,” the herald shouted over the din of conversation in the room.

  A few people cast curious glances at us. A much larger number glared at me with overt hostility. I smiled, trying not to let my uncertainty show. At least I was used to the disdainful looks, given what my reputation had been like back home.

  I bolted for the beverage table past a rather hideous series of frescoes on the walls, ignoring whatever Alek was grumbling behind me. A pale green beverage with muddled citrus at the bottom was placed in my hand, and I took it without questioning the contents. The glass was filled to the brim with ice and topped with a sprig of mint. It smelled like bug repellent. I took a swig to discover it tasted about the same.

  “Shit of the gods, what is this stuff?” I asked Alek, who had asked the bartender for a glass of water.

  “Chartreuse Smash,” he said, his tone dour.

  “Well, it does have a sort of violence to it,” I said. I took another sip, bracing myself for the drink to punch me in the throat. “Can you introduce me to some of your friends?” I asked. He had to know at least a few people from his days here prior to taking the post at Duvey, and talking to almost anyone in this viper pit might help me better understand the Winter Court.

  “I don’t have any friends,” Alek said, as though the mere suggestion was repulsive.

  “Acquaintances?” I asked.

  “This isn’t where I prefer to spend my time,” he grumbled. “Besides, there are a lot of outsiders here—spectacle seekers. Hoping the magic of the queen’s selected trainees will rub off on them, no doubt.”

  “You know Laurenna,” I pointed out.

  His fingers reflexively searched for the hilt of a sword that wasn’t there. “She’s not here. You’re the diplomat. Go talk to people.”

  I sighed. He clearly wanted my company about as much as a hoof to the face, and I didn’t feel much different. Talking wasn’t my strong suit, but listening I could do. What I really wanted to know was why there were Sonnenbornes at the Winter Court and how they might interfere with my agenda—which was, of course, to get done with this ambassadorial nonsense as quickly as possible and go back to figuring out what was next for me and Denna.

  I slipped away to meander through the increasingly crowded room, hoping to catch a few snatches of conversation that might help me find out what the courtiers thought of the queen, her grand vizier, or the Sonnenbornes. Most people were speaking Tradespeech, so at least I didn’t have to try to translate from Zumordan.

  “. . . she looks weaker than she did last year, I’m sure of it,” a woman said, her voice barely above a whisper and dripping with false concern.

  “Really, you’re going to start underestimating her now?” the man standing beside her asked.

  “Of course not!” the woman said, aghast at the suggestion. “But you have to admit, when the monarch has been challenged eight out of the past ten years, times are changing. She can’t keep winning forever.”

  I frowned. While Alek had mentioned how the throne was taken in Zumorda, he hadn’t mentioned that there had been challenges for it recently.

  One of the other men in the group noticed me lurking. “Maybe you’re right, if the stance on Mynarians has become more lax.” His voice was louder than the others, and his gaze even colder than Alek’s usually was.

  I kept walking, drinking fast. It was useless to try to engage with people who already held something against me. My drink was gone before I got halfway across the ballroom. I scanned the area for the quickest path back to the beverage table, only for two familiar figures to catch my eye: the Sonnenbornes I’d seen at the stables. They’d exchanged their riding clothes for formal garb in lighter colors more suited to court, but the woman’s black hair was unmistakable. I pushed through the crowd, joining the drink line directly behind them. I meant only to eavesdrop on their conversation, but the woman took a step back and bumped into me almost immediately.

  “Apologies,” I said, flustered.

  “The mistake was mine,” the woman said. Her eyes were long-lashed and a warm hazel. “Forgive me, but I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

  “Princess Amaranthine of Mynaria,” I said, standing straighter.

  She smiled diplomatically. “Pleased to meet you, Your Highness. I am Eronit of Sonnenborne, and this is my husband, Varian.”

  “I’m surprised to meet a Mynarian here.” Varian smiled thinly through his reddish beard.

  “And I am equally surprised to meet you,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. If either of them had a connection to the assassinations that had destroyed my family, it was going to take everything I had not to strangle them before we reached the front of the beverage line.

  “We Sonnenbornes have always had a presence in Kartasha,” Varian said.

  “But I don’t think you’ve made a habit of attacking Zumordan border cities,” I countered.

  Eronit’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  I didn’t buy their innocent act. “Duvey Keep was attacked by Sonnenbornes. We had the misfortune of crossing paths with them at the wrong time on our way here.”

  “Which tribes?” Eronit said. “We don’t all believe the same things. I doubt our own people would have been involved in such an attack.”

  We arrived at the front of the line and each accepted a mug of mulled wine from the harried servant tending the table.

  “Perhaps we should take our drinks and continue this conversation elsewhere?” Varian suggested.

  I nodded my reluctant agreement. While it felt like fraternizing with the enemy, I needed to find out whatever they knew about why Duvey had been attacked or what their kingdom’s next move might be. The three of us moved aside so that others could receive their drinks.

  “What is different about your tribe’s beliefs from those who attacked Duvey?” I asked them, hoping a comparison might get to the root of Kriantz’s master plan.

  “Our people are dedicated to the desert,” Eronit said. “We believe it is our true homeland, and our duty is to survive there as we have for hundreds of years. We oppose those who seek to expand our kingdom’s borders to gain resources. The desert has all we need.”

  I was flummoxed. The entire reason Kriantz had tried to start a war between Zumorda and Mynaria was to steal land. He had implied that all the Sonnenbornes were starving in the desert and his people had no other way to ensure their survival. Eronit and Varian didn’t look malnourished in any way—they were fit and strong.

  “We rarely leave the desert, in fact,” Varian said. “This is our first time outside the borders of our kingdom.”

  “Ours is a tribe with many scholars,” Eronit said. “The merchants bring back much for us to learn and study.”

  “That’s why we are visiting,” Varian explained. “For our studies.”

  I looked back and forth between them. “What are you studying?”

  “The intersection between climate, botany, and magic as it relates to successful horticultural models in the Sonnenborne desert,” Eronit said.

  “I didn’t think the Sonnenbornes used magic,” I said, hoping to hide my failure to understand most of the other words in her sentence.

  “We don’t.” Eronit smiled. “Which is why we’ve come here—to study with those who do and learn more about why magic is absent from our homeland.”

  “I doubt the details would interest you,” Varian said with a condescending smile.

  I frowned. I probably wouldn’t understand the details, but Denna might, if I sh
ared them with her. And it seemed interesting that Eronit had said there was no magic in Sonnenborne. We had it in Mynaria—people just considered it heretical and dangerous. That was quite different from a kingdom where magic simply didn’t exist.

  Eronit’s face suddenly lit up as she looked over my shoulder.

  I turned around to see Alek looming behind me, creepily quiet like he always was. Of course he had to go and interrupt the conversation just as it was getting interesting.

  “Sir Alek of the Misty Plains. It’s an honor,” Eronit said.

  Alek gave her an acknowledging nod, his expression flat as ever. I looked back and forth between them with some suspicion. How did Eronit know who Alek was?

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Varian extended his hand to Alek and introduced himself and Eronit. “Is it true you’re going to be offering training while you’re in town?”

  Alek shrugged. “I’ll be at the salle in the afternoons if anyone cares to spar.”

  Varian looked as giddy as a first-year liegeman. “We’ve heard many stories of your heroics. It would be an honor to learn from you.”

  Heroics? It was hard to imagine Alek as a hero of any kind, unless he’d somehow managed to grouch his enemies to death.

  “We’ll look for you at the salle,” Varian said.

  “You’ll have to excuse us,” Eronit said. “The person we’re meant to meet with has just arrived. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Sir Alek. Your Highness.” She nodded to each of us in turn.

  The two of them walked away and joined a small group of Zumordans who had just entered the ballroom, integrating in a seamless way I wish I could have. How did two other foreigners make things look so easy their first time outside their kingdom? I scowled after them, and then turned that same expression on Alek.

  “So you’re a hero, eh?” I asked.

  “I’m a fighter. I do what I’m told, when I’m told, where I’m told to do it.” His tone implied that I was lacking in all those abilities. “If you care to introduce yourself to Grand Vizier Zhari, she’s here.” He gestured to a tall older woman bedecked in pale gold robes who stood near the windows. She carried herself with the quiet air of someone who had great power. Her hair was white as the snow on the mountaintop and cut very short, and though she carried an ornamental staff, she stood straight as any soldier. Poised between two of the gaudy columns, she looked far more like a work of art than any of the frescoes in the room. It surprised me to see that no one was toadying to her—in fact, most seemed to give her a wide berth other than a respectful bow or nod as they passed, almost as if they were afraid.