New Title 1

by K. M. Shea

  General Halvor bowed to Steinar. He turned to Oskar. “You will see to the princess?”

  “Yes.”

  General Halvor nodded and moved to go. He paused, turned around, and stared at Rakel. Farrin could see he had difficulty swallowing. He saluted the unconscious princess, every part of his body straight and proud. His lips moved, but Farrin couldn’t hear his words, and with a flick of his cape, he was gone, calling out orders to his men.

  Oskar offered Steinar a stiff bow and turned to Farrin. “If you would follow me, Colonel Graydim. We will commandeer a sleigh and begin the journey back to camp.”

  “I would like her moved to Ostfold as soon as it is safe for her to travel,” Steinar said.

  Oskar bowed again to the young monarch and then twitched his fingers at Farrin in a gesture for him to follow. Phile moved to join them, but Oskar shook his head at her. “Not right now, Robber Maiden. I’m doing my best to stifle my desire to petition Steinar to exile you from this country. If you must follow us, track down Snorri so I don’t have to see you.”

  As Farrin—still carrying Rakel—started after Oskar, his heart shuddered.

  Rakel, you must wake up. We need you.

  CHAPTER 16

  RESTORATION

  “This week, I will approve plans and designs to rebuild the palace.” Steinar inched the armchair closer to the bed on which Rakel lay. “You’re also getting a throne in the throne room. I don’t care if you think it’s too high of an honor for you, or makes you seem like a queen, you have more than earned it. Besides, you are a queen—you’re the Snow Queen. And last night, I officially adopted the reindeer as Verglas’s new emblem. The craftsmen working with me promised to include snowflakes and reindeer in the new palace architecture.”

  Farrin listened with only half an ear, though he was surprised to realize he felt a twist of sympathy for the young king. Every day he comes and reports to Rakel the palace activities. Every day. Though spring is long gone; summer is in full bloom, and Rakel still sleeps, he has not given up hope.

  Steinar’s persistence and belief had bought him a powerful pardon in Farrin’s esteem. Many had given up on Rakel and held her up as a sort of martyred saint instead of their slumbering princess.

  Witnessing Steinar’s stubborn loyalty helped ease some of the burden Farrin himself felt.

  “The rebuilding efforts in the southern villages continue. The fear that plagued the area has finally left. Many of the resistance fighters from central Verglas have moved south—both to help them and to prove your magic means they have nothing to fear.” Steinar shifted, making his chair creak. Farrin watched him reach out and place his hand on Rakel’s and squeeze it.

  “Ensom Peak finally thawed out this past week,” Steinar said. “I sent an expedition to see if anything from Vefsna could be found. It’s gone—and so is your castle. When you shattered it, seems you took the top of the mountain with it, so it does not stand as tall as it used to. It is good the Vefsna villagers moved off the mountain when you left. There were no casualties…although there is a petition to rename the mountain Fresler’s Helm—after you, as Fresler means savior…” he trailed off and sighed. “I have to go…but, Rakel? Happy Birthday.”

  Steinar stood and adjusted the vase of flowers he brought. He offered Farrin a weak smile.

  Farrin saluted him.

  Steinar’s smile grew stronger, and he left the room.

  Farrin returned his gaze to Rakel and quietly approached her. “You would be proud of him,” he said after a few minutes. “Organizing the relief efforts has been hard, and although your presence and actions softened the attitude held towards magic, he has plowed forward, heedless of his nobles, and given us rights and freedoms seen nowhere else on this continent—not even in Baris. The magic users and people love him almost as much as they loved you—love you.”

  Farrin rubbed his forehead, angry with the unconscious slip of his tongue. She’s alive. He reminded himself. She could come back any day. Oskar did the math—her price should run out soon…if it really is her price keeping her unconscious.

  Farrin had heard the whispers among the other magic users. They feared if she had done as Phile had said and had given up all her magic, she may never wake—price or not.

  The door opened with a quiet clack. “Sir.” Bunny clicked her heels together as she snapped off a salute. Behind her Crow—her husband—much more lazily mimicked her.

  “At ease, Major,” Farrin said. “My shift isn’t over, yet.”

  “General’s orders,” Crow piped in as he tried to settle an arm over Bunny’s shoulders.

  “As today is Princess Rakel’s birthday, Oskar is holding a celebration,” Bunny said. “General Halvor requires your presence.”

  “General Halvor can require all he likes. I’m not his soldier,” Farrin said.

  Crow ruffled his black hair. “General Halvor said that as the Commander of Princess Rakel’s honor guard, you must attend. You know, morale, duty, and all that.”

  “Phile will be there,” Bunny added, swatting off her husband as he tried to run his fingers through her short hair. “She got back from her latest trip just an hour ago.”

  “Did she find anything?” Farrin asked.

  Bunny shrugged, though the sad shadow in her eyes belied the gesture.

  “Very well,” Farrin said. He turned and brushed his fingers across Rakel’s cool hands. “Tomorrow, Rakel,” he murmured. He swept from the room, fighting to keep his sputtering hope alive.

  She will wake up. She will!

  Farrin didn’t move when Phile threw open the door to Rakel’s room—he had long heard her coming as she had a unique, skipping gate.

  “I’ve done it, Little Wolf,” Phile announced. She ran to Rakel’s bed and plopped down on it, folding her legs under her in the most awkward position, as she did every time she came for one of her sporadic visits. (She tended to visit when he was on guard duty—which was most of the daylight hours—as he allowed her the informality. Most of the other guards protested at the close contact with their comatose princess.) “I started my Thieves’ Guild. It’s stationed here in Verglas, though right now we’re still running across the continent,” she said.

  Ever since delivering Rakel to the safety of Ostfold, Phile had been in and out of Verglas, searching for texts or books that could help Rakel wake. So far she had found nothing—even though she had ventured into dangerous territory, almost caused a war in Torrens when swiping an ancient book, and plagued Ragnar’s elf-friends for days.

  Farrin adjusted one of the daggers strapped to his sword belt. She is loyal. No matter what happens, I think she will consider Verglas her base of operations.

  “I even poached Snorri as my first member. Handsome Halvor almost had me quartered as Snorri is one of his best scouts, and the only one immediately available—in case you haven’t heard, Bunny is out of commission as she and Crow are expecting. But, anyway, I got Snorri, and now the legend of my Thieves’ Guild will begin!” Though Phile’s words were bright, Farrin saw her lower lip quivered for a heartbeat.

  The Robber Maiden reached out and squeezed Rakel’s hand. “So you have to wake up now. Though I was thinking to make my guild strictly males, I would accept you as a member. Because you are my friend, but also because if I can advertise I have a princess in my guild, well, there’s no better recommendation!”

  Phile was quiet for several moments. Though Oskar had forgiven her months ago, Farrin wasn’t certain the Robber Maiden had forgiven herself—even if it was what Rakel had wanted.

  She’s suffering.

  Phile rearranged her legs. “It’s fall. I’m hoping to catch a Ringsted ship south before the bad weather breaks out so I can look into a few rumors, but I’ll be back. Steinar is holding a big shindig near the end of winter to celebrate our victory against the Chosen. I’ll be there—and you better be, too.”

  Farrin turned his back to Phile—blocking the image of her hunched, defeated posture. They were almost out of
hope.

  “A talus is the sloping surface at the base of a fortified wall. It is constructed to be thicker, which makes it more difficult for attackers to break through because of its great mass…” Kai turned away and wiped his wet face on his sleeve, unwilling to let the sleeping Rakel witness his tears.

  Farrin shifted, wondering if he should comfort the little boy. It would break Rakel’s heart to know how much her absence pains him—how much it pains all of us.

  Gerta placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned over the book. “It’s got a picture of a talus.” She traced over the diagram with a finger. “It’s a breakdown of how the wall is…r-reinforced.” Her voice was strong even though she stumbled over the unfamiliar term. “It’s got stones ’n stuff—like you used to talk about, Princess.”

  The children were reading from a book about castle architecture Rakel had once proclaimed to be her favorite—although reading wasn’t quite right. Neither of them could read very well, and the book was far beyond their ability, so every week Oskar read two pages to them. Kai would memorize the words, and once a week he and Gerta would recite their findings to Rakel.

  (When they were asked why they continued with this—even though it was the middle of winter and Rakel had been unconscious for the better part of a year—Gerta blinked and said, “Because I think she must be bored—sleeping all day like that.”)

  Gerta and Kai were faithful in their visits, and unrealistically convinced that Rakel would wake up…but as for Oskar, Phile, and Steinar…defeat was wearing them down. Even Farrin—who loved Rakel, even now with every breath he took—had no hope. What little bit he had, had smoked out and died when winter arrived and Rakel hadn’t woken up. After the grand celebration Steinar had planned, and when the last week of winter passed, Farrin planned to petition General Halvor for a position in the Verglas army.

  “When you wake up, Princess, we’ll show you,” Gerta said. “The new parts of the palace are fancy-like.”

  “And they’ve got lots of carvings of snowflakes and reindeer!” Kai added, his voice cheerful once more.

  Their steadfastness warmed Farrin’s heart—and brought him pain. When would they realize she wasn’t going to wake up? He brushed his fingers across the hilt of his two-handed broadsword.

  I love you Rakel—a forever kind. Though you might never speak again, I will guard the people and land you gave your life for.

  “And so, I dedicate this day in remembrance of my brave sister, Princess Rakel, and all of those who lost their lives in the War of Ice and Snow.” Steinar’s voice echoed in the quiet square.

  Farrin combed the crowd with his eyes, watching for threats—though he suspected if anyone dared to try something during the festival, his fellow citizens would rip him limb from limb. And, of course, there was no need to be concerned with evil magic. Rakel’s border negated it.

  To celebrate Verglas’s victory against the Chosen invasion, King Steinar had declared a country-wide, three-day holiday. Many cities and towns were holding their own celebrations, but people had flocked to Ostfold in such numbers the capital city could not hold them all, and a sea of tents and wagons had sprung up around the city walls.

  They were there for the express purpose of paying their respects and saying farewell to Rakel—the exiled princess who had given her life for theirs.

  A year had passed, and she still hadn’t stirred. No one had any hope left that she would ever wake again.

  “Because of their sacrifice, we are free. Because of their courage, we can continue with our lives,” Steinar said. The young king turned slightly to face Rakel, whom they had laid out on a stone slab.

  “This looks like a funeral service,” Phile muttered at Farrin’s side.

  “It is a funeral service,” Farrin said.

  Phile sighed but did not refute the statement. She also gazed at the unnaturally still Rakel, whom she had maneuvered into a final new dress from Inga, a beautiful creation of silvery-blue fabric that reminded Farrin of snow drifts at midnight. Flowers carved out of ice were heaped around Rakel, and she wore a crown crafted to resemble a ring of silver snowflakes pushed into her white hair. She looked deceptively peaceful, but beautiful, like she had fallen asleep just a few minutes ago.

  “This day will be honored and remembered henceforth as a day of celebration and respect,” Steinar continued. “Now, I invite you to join me and my household in remembering the fallen.”

  The city shook when the people—guards, commoners, and magical—cheered, waving the new Verglas Standard—a flag of light blue with a velvet brown reindeer positioned in front of a white snowflake.

  Steinar stood next to Rakel’s dais on a stairway landing. The Verglas Palace—which bore signs of new construction—loomed behind him, and Ostfold opened up in front of him like a patchwork quilt. As the crowds kept cheering, he turned to Rakel and bowed—not a shallow bow of acknowledgement, but a deep bow of respect—and then joined General Halvor and several soldiers who were strategically positioned three stairs below the landing in a guarding pattern.

  General Halvor nodded to Farrin, who was posted with Phile halfway up one side of the staircase, with Oskar standing directly across from them. Farrin signaled the soldiers at the foot of the stairs to let the first few well-wishers forward.

  They were allowed up in small groups. Those who were fit enough climbed the flight of stairs, stopping near the top where Rakel’s guards halted them, but some folk—injured soldiers and resistance fighters, the elderly, and those with small children—stopped at the base of the stairs for a few moments before they were gently prodded on.

  The Ostfold town square teemed with music, food, and dancing—the scent of cinnamon and cardamom tickled Farrin’s nose, and he could hear violin music and horns—but the line to Rakel’s body remained long.

  “I didn’t think I would see them,” Phile nodded at the two newest mourners, who were climbing the stairs.

  “Who are they?” Farrin set one of his hands on his two-handed-broadsword. The pair nodded to him and Phile as they climbed.

  “You should know Pordis; she’s the merchant who helped us in Kiby. Tryggvi is the Glowma constable. I thought they were going to stay in Glowma—it’s having its own celebration.”

  “It is their final offering to Rakel,” Farrin said.

  Phile quieted. “Yes.”

  After Tryggvi and Pordis came Frodi, Eydìs, Tollak, Ragnar, and all the Verglas magic users Farrin had ever met. He was proud to see most of his old subordinates attend, as well. Even Bunny—round with child—made Crow and Dryden haul her up the stairs while Bluff anxiously trailed behind them.

  All of those from Rakel’s guard unit—Knut and Snorri among them—filed past shortly after. They saluted her, grief cracking their faces. Soldiers who had worked with Rakel—like Topi and Colonel Danr—were next in their farewells.

  Morning stretched into noon, and still the people came. Some folk placed tiny wooden reindeer and carved snowflakes on the stairs; others left small squares of cloth with snowflake embroidery, and many left branches of pine trees and evergreens, making the area fragrant.

  It was mid-afternoon by the time Gerta, her parents, her grandmother Hilda, and Kai had their turn to pay their respects. Grandmother Hilda stayed at the base of the stairs, but Farrin could see tears in her eyes. Gerta’s parents climbed to the top with the children.

  The children were the least weepy of the bunch. Kai’s face was grave but determined, and Gerta pressed her lips together in an expression of stubbornness.

  Farrin watched, his eyebrow raised in curiosity, as the children stiffly bowed to the princess they had adored. Gerta’s parents started down the stairs, and the children turned to follow them but dawdled on the stair for a few moments.

  Gerta slyly glanced at the guards—who were staring out at the crowds—and bolted, Kai on her heels, past the blockade of soldiers.

  “Princess!” Gerta flung herself against Rakel and grabbed her hand. “Princess, you will wak
e up. I know it! You said magic couldn’t separate me ’n Kai, and it won’t separate us either!”

  “Please, Princess!” Kai pleaded. He spun around and opened the sack he carried, dumping out three crudely carved reindeer and a pile of blocks that he hurriedly stacked as the guards reached for them. “Attack the guards!” he shouted. The wood carvings and blocks twitched to life and began ramming into the feet and shins of the guards.

  Kai and Gerta joined hands and ran around Rakel’s stone dais, avoiding capture. “We’ll have hope ’n’ courage—so we’ll always be together!” Gerta shouted, ducking under a soldier.

  “We believe you’ll wake up!” Kai added. A guard grabbed him by the back of his cloak, but let him go when the little boy kicked him in the shin. “We’ll keep on believing, even if everyone else acts like you’re dead!”

  “So wake up as soon as you can!” Gerta ended her words with a yelp when General Halvor swooped in and scooped her up.

  Oskar, who had climbed up the last few stairs, scooped up Kai. He murmured to the young boy, who didn’t appear to hear him as he leaned over the attendant’s shoulder and yelled, “We believe in you, Princess!”

  “We’ll keep on believing, even if everyone else acts like you’re dead!”

  I know that voice…Kai? Rakel’s thoughts were slow and rusty—as if she hadn’t had any in a long time. Why is Kai here? The last thing I remember was…Tenebris…I’m alive?

  She struggled to move her body, open her lips, anything, but her muscles were heavy and stiff.

  “So wake up as soon as you can!”

  That was Gerta.

  She heard a scuffle and the sound of feet running around her. She picked up notes of Oskar’s soothing voice, though she couldn’t hear what he said over Kai’s shout. “We believe in you, Princess!”

  Rakel finally managed to snap her eyes open, and immediately shut them again when she was blinded by the bright sunlight. Her lips moved, but her throat was too dry to use. How long have I been unconscious? It feels cold.