by K. M. Shea
“I wish I had the hope of those children,” Phile sighed wistfully.
“They’ll only end up disappointed.” Farrin turned to face forward again. It is cruel that they will learn there are some things hope cannot overcome. He frowned as the children grew more frantic and kicked at Halvor and Oskar as they pointed up at Rakel.
“Princess!”
“Princess!”
Gasps broke out across those still lined up, waiting to pay their respects.
“For the love of a king,” Phile uttered as she stared up at the landing.
The hair on the back of Farrin’s neck prickled, and he swung around.
Rakel struggled to sit up and blinked owlishly in the sunlight.
Rakel’s arms shook with exertion as she tried to adjust to the sunlight. She felt as blind as a mole.
“Rakel!”
“F-Farrin?” Her voice cracked.
In an instant, Farrin was at her side, tucking his arms around her. She pulled weakly at him, tucking her head against his shoulder until others crowded around her.
“Princess!” Gerta and Kai shouted, wrapping their arms around her legs.
Phile was scarcely a moment behind them. She was laughing and crying as she pulled Rakel from Farrin’s embrace and hugged her. “Little Wolf! You did it! You beat Tenebris and banished anyone with evil in their magic. We won!”
A little taken aback her plan had worked so smoothly, Rakel returned Phile’s embrace, frowning when her arms still trembled. “How long have I been unconscious?”
“A year,” Oskar said, grabbing Rakel’s attention. His green eyes were glassy with tears, but his smile was as bold and charming as ever. “It’s almost spring now. Welcome back, Princess.”
Rakel smiled and reached for him and was delighted when her loyal attendant caught her hand in his.
“Princess,” Halvor saluted her. A tiny smile quirked at his lips, but his eyes shone with tears of happiness—until they turned stern. “Do not do something that foolish again, or I will have you court-martialed,” he warned.
Steinar slipped past Phile to claim Rakel for the next embrace. “I agree—though I am so happy you’ve returned to us, sister.”
He stepped back, giving Rakel a clear view of her surroundings. She was humbled by the sea of people pressed into Ostfold. They were cheering, shouting, and stomping. Rakel could barely hear the sound of pipes and violins above the celebration. Banners of light blue with brown reindeer and white snowflakes hung from stair railings, storefronts, and balconies. Everywhere she looked, there were ice carvings, reindeer, snowflakes, or silver crowns.
“Did you plan this?” Rakel tried to shift on the stone slab she was perched upon, and the exertion made her shake. Farrin aided her. He hooked an arm behind her knees and eased her legs over the side of the stone slab.
“I declared there would be a celebration, yes, but I did not think you would wake up in the middle of it.” Steinar laughed.
“Nobody did—except for Gerta and Kai.” Oskar rested his hands on the children’s heads.
Rakel smiled at the pair and extended her arms. She was glad Farrin had placed his arms around her again to support her, for she would have toppled over when they piled on her with such glee.
“Thank you for being brave and for having hope,” she whispered.
Gerta nodded, and Kai cried, pressing his face into her shoulder. She felt his tears leak through the fabric of her gauzy dress as she held him close. “I’m sorry I left you.”
Kai nodded and scrubbed his face.
Gerta grabbed his hand and smiled. “We knew you’d wake up.”
“Princess.” Gerta’s mother curtsied, her hand pressed to her mouth as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “It is so good to see you again.”
Gerta and Kai retreated to stand with her, and her friends made a ring around Rakel, laughing, crying, and smiling.
“I am at a loss for words,” Rakel admitted. “I didn’t think I would survive.”
“If you have the strength for it, could you face our people?” Steinar asked, indicating the mass of people behind him who still cheered and shouted.
Rakel took a deep breath and nodded. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold her, so Farrin and Phile—standing on either side of her—helped her stand and bore all her weight.
The wind brushed Rakel’s loosely braided hair, and her knees shook as she stared out at more people than she had ever seen before. She smiled when the cheers grew in volume.
“Snow Queen, Snow Queen, Snow Queen!”
This is why I fought. Rakel exhaled in sheer happiness, her hands warmed by Phile’s and Farrin’s. When I set out from my castle to save the people of Vefsna, I wondered and hoped…and now it has happened. They don’t fear me, and they are safe and free.
Rakel swallowed, finally allowing herself to feel the loss. Though she hadn’t noticed it initially, something was different. She felt a gaping hole in her senses where her magic used to rest with cool reassurance. She had no magic. Not even a fleck of it.
She could feel her magic floating in the air around her the way someone smells a freshly baked dessert, but she felt like a husk without the confident promise of her inner powers.
Her hands shook, not only from exhaustion, but from the blinding loss. She smiled, held in the tears, and filled her senses with the crowd. They are worth the sacrifice.
Farrin gazed down at her, his expression indecipherable. He looked out at the crowd, then nodded to General Halvor, and scooped her up in his arms.
“I can stand,” Rakel protested.
“You need to eat and drink something.” Farrin toted her away as if she were the same weight as a lamb. “The people will be here tomorrow—you can see them then.”
Rakel fell silent and nuzzled close to Farrin. I’m alive. The Chosen have been defeated. I have so much to be thankful for. My magic is a small price.
“I don’t believe it,” Phile said. She tried to fold her arms across her chest before the tightness of wearing two jackets pinched her and made her settle down again.
“I don’t have anything left. There’s nothing there,” Rakel said. She was seated on a stone bench and stared out at the glacier nestled against the palace. Around her was the skeleton of the new wing Steinar was having built.
Farrin stood at her side like a dark shadow—a sharp contrast to her white hair and light-blue dress. “I assumed your magic would regenerate. All magic does when the caster over-steps their abilities, but you didn’t use it all…you merely transferred it.” He trailed a finger across her shoulder as his eyes narrowed in thought.
“There’s got to be something we can do, Little Wolf,” Phile said. “You had—have—a beautiful relationship with your magic that is incredibly rare.”
“It’s not that rare. Most people don’t fight their magic, Phile,” Rakel said.
“No, I mean you. Your magic was the perfect expression of your temperament, your emotions—your hair even whitened out to match it! There’s no way your magic would let itself be cut off from you.”
“Magic isn’t a living creature,” Rakel said.
“Well, I’m not ready to admit defeat. I’ll drag you across the continent if I have to—though our best bet would probably be Baris or one of Ragnar’s elf-friends.” Phile paced back and forth. “We can wait for the elves if we have to—a ship of them are sailing to the continent—but they’re leagues away, still.”
“What is to keep you from using your magic that you’ve already pushed into the country?” Farrin asked.
Rakel blinked. “What?”
“Your magic dusts Verglas like frost. Ever since you defeated Tenebris, I’ve felt it. Why can’t you use it?”
Rakel felt hope, fear, and embarrassment twist her heart in one confusing mix. If I could still use my magic…but how likely is that? Of course, that’s exactly what she’d done when she shattered her ice-castle. She used the magic built into it.
“Maybe.” Sh
e was afraid to hope.
“Try it!” Phile urged.
Rakel licked her lips and rose from the bench. She crossed the courtyard and admired the way the silver moonlight played on the glacier. Thinking of what she wanted to do, she extended her hand and reached for her loose magic.
For several long, frightening moments, nothing happened. But just when she was about to give up, she felt a whisper of magic stir in her palm. It took a while to build, but when she had enough, she looked out at the glacier and built a horse-sized ice statue of a reindeer.
I still have magic—it hasn’t left me!
Phile whooped as the sculpture was shaped and molded, sending little chips of ice flying. Farrin took Rakel’s free hand and squeezed it.
Again, she reached for her magic. It was still slow to respond, but it moved as she directed, creating a doll-sized replica of the Verglas palace. Feeling for the boundaries of her magic, she stirred the wind and created a puffy cloud that started to drop fat snowflakes on their heads; she even dared to tug at the snow of a nearby mountain.
Each time, her magic moved as it always did.
“There’s a long gap until it responds,” Rakel said.
Farrin nodded. “I imagine it takes more time now that you are pulling at a magic source outside of your body.”
“Who cares if there is a gap? You still have your magic, Little Wolf!”
“I do,” Rakel smiled at the pair. “I’m very happy, but it will take some getting used to. I still feel the void, and…”
“And?” Farrin prodded.
Rakel hesitated. “And I won’t be able to use my magic fast enough to be any good in combat—or to block any kind of strike against me.”
Phile’s smile dimmed. “Oh.”
Rakel smiled. “I would rather take what I have than to be cut off entirely.”
Farrin tucked an arm around her waist and spoke into her hair. “Your magic won’t be needed for combat. No magic user with a hint of dark or twisted magic can pass through Verglas.” He kissed her temple and held her close.
Rakel tilted her head. “Do we know that for certain?”
“Oh, yeah,” Phile snorted. “For weeks, Grimick tried plotting a way into Verglas. Every night you could see where he would be—a giant ice wall would flare up and block him. Farrin’s right. You won’t have magical combat in Verglas again.”
“But what about those without magic?” Rakel asked.
“Ah, yes. Your powers only protect Verglas against the magical,” Phile said.
“You don’t need to react swiftly, Rakel.” Farrin used his fingers to tilt her face up so she would look at him. “I will stand with you. No one will pass through me.” His gray eyes glowed with joy, and Rakel found herself smiling in return.
“Good lord, there’s enough love out here a king could choke on it. I’m going to retire and leave you two to your own devices, but Rakel?”
Rakel felt her cheeks heat with a blush. She cleared her throat and pulled back from Farrin so she could face her friend. “Yes?”
“Phile is both a girl’s name and a boy’s name. I think it should be the name of your first child—Farrin agrees with me.” Phile fled to the palace, a spring in her step and a cackle in her throat.
Farrin frowned at her back, his black eyebrows slanting down sharply in his displeasure. He looked at Rakel and opened his mouth.
A giggle of laughter escaped her. “I know.”
His frown turned into a soft smile as he slipped his arms around her. For a few luxurious moments, Rakel leaned against him, basking in the warmth of his love as he pressed his lips to her forehead, then down to her cheek, then down to her jaw.
“We need to talk,” he whispered in her ear.
She flinched and pulled back from him. “Farrin…”
“You almost died, Rakel. This isn’t something we can smooth over as if it never happened. These have been the longest months of my life.” His gray eyes were still warm with love, but the furrowing of his brow and the set of his mouth created an expression of pain.
“I don’t regret it.”
“You should have told me what you were planning.”
“If I did, you would have stopped me.” Rakel lifted her chin. “You—and others—would have done everything in your power to keep me from carrying everything out.”
Farrin raised an eyebrow at her. “So what if we had?”
“You cannot deny that my actions created the best possible outcome.”
“I can, actually.”
The response made Rakel’s jaw drop. “In what way did it fail?” she demanded.
“It didn’t fail, but because you and Phile ruthlessly pushed your strategy forward, alone, we’ll never know what sort of ideas we could have used instead.”
Rakel uneasily knit her hands together. “What do you mean?”
“I mean if you had explained your idea, we could have discussed it with other magic users. Ragnar’s elf-friends might have been able to offer knowledge that would have made the transfer of your magic easier. There is a magic user who used to belong in Kavon’s unit—when you defeated Tenebris, she deserted the Chosen and now lives in Verglas. Her powers revolve around amplifying the magic of others. She might have been able to help if you had separated your two self-inflicted missions and given us time to react. There were other possibilities, Rakel. So why did you do it?”
“We didn’t have time for any of that. Spring had arrived,” she argued.
“That’s a flimsy excuse. Why?”
Rakel said nothing.
Farrin sighed. “Do you know how horrifying it was to see you crumple on the battlefield? I swore to protect you with my life; I love you, and you shut me out with an impenetrable ice blockade while you withered and fell. I will live with that memory for the rest of my life. Please, Rakel…why?”
Rakel’s chin trembled before she regained control of her emotions. “I was afraid,” she said in a tiny voice.
Farrin tilted his head. “Of?”
“Being like Tenebris.”
“Oh, princess.” Farrin spoke the title with passionate affection, and Rakel knew he wasn’t calling her a princess of Verglas, but his princess. He engulfed her in another warm, protective hug.
Rakel shut her eyes and leaned into his shoulder. Ever since she had woken up, her head had swum with all the changes—the void where her magic used to be, the minty feeling of it always surrounding her, and the changes among her friends. Nothing was the same. Except for Farrin. She took a shuddering breath and fought her tears. In spite of everything that had happened, Farrin’s eyes were still bright with love, and his embrace felt like the strongest shield in the world.
“I wanted to prove that I wasn’t like him.” Rakel swallowed when a hot tear splashed her cheek. “That I was doing this because I wanted to save people—not because I wanted power.”
“Rakel, you didn’t need to sacrifice yourself to prove you aren’t like Tenebris. You do that just by breathing,” Farrin said.
“But we were so similar,” Rakel argued. She clung to him as if he were her lifeline, but she couldn’t look up to see his expression. “We both had more magic than a person should possess; we both recruited repressed people, and we fought for a cause we deemed worthy.”
Farrin slid one of his hands into her hair. “Being good is a choice; it’s a choice you made when you set out to save a country that scorned you. You might have power—which can often be corrupted—and the praise of men, but from the start, you have held out your hand to help and save.”
“That’s not true,” she protested. “I acted as I did because I hoped people would come to accept me.”
Farrin brushed his fingers along her jaw and tilted her face up so she had to raise her eyes. “Perhaps, but you helped—when, in any of your years in exile, you could have destroyed the entire country,” he whispered. “Your life has just started, Rakel. You are not expected to have all the answers. What is important is that you continue to choose love
and goodness.”
Her tears threatened to spill over at the tender love she could see in Farrin’s eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.”
Farrin leaned over and sealed her vow with a kiss.
This was not the soft, gentle kiss they had exchanged in camp before battling Tenebris, but a passionate declaration of love. He was her anchor, holding her steady as the warmth of their embrace washed over her like a wave and made her body tingle.
As they kissed, Rakel knew she wished to never leave Farrin Graydim again. She had nearly died, and he had waited. She had defeated a monster, and he had protected her during the fight. She had woken up, and he’d been there.
When they finally parted, they stared at each other and breathed deeply—foreheads touching as they recovered.
Farrin dipped in again and stole another couple of soft, insistent kisses until Rakel laughed and pulled away. There was so much she wanted to say—so much she wanted him to know. But how to say it? Shyly, with a pink blush staining her cheeks, Rakel pulled his hand close. “Forever?”
Farrin chuckled—a low, throaty sound that made her stomach jump. He took her hand and held her knuckles to his lips. “Forever. But you’d better be conscious for most of it.”
Rakel crouched next to Kai, who held a crudely forged dagger. The little boy stared wide-eyed at the mirror. “It’s scary,” he whispered.
“I know.” Rakel squeezed his hand. “But I’m here, and so are Farrin, Phile, Bluff, Dryden, and a dozen other magic users. You’re safe.”
Use me…
Rakel shivered as the whispers of the mirror brushed against her skin. When Kai peered up at her, she put on another reassuring smile. “Are you ready?”
Kai nodded and held the dagger out in front of him. “Pierce!” he shouted. He threw it at the mirror, which it bounced off harmlessly, much the way the boulder Dryden had thrown at it had.