by K. M. Shea
Rakel raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think they’re here to take over the country?” she asked, her estimation of the young woman rising.
“It’s a flimsy cover of an excuse.” Phile shook her head. “There are countries much riper for the plucking than Verglas. They’re here for a concrete reason, not for wish-fulfillment.”
Rakel narrowed her eyes and studied the Robber Maiden, tapping her ice powers. They cleared her mind with a crisp gush. Oskar and Captain Halvor can decide if she is trustworthy. Although, I do not think she will harm me. “I agree,” Rakel said as she removed the last bits of ice blocking the lean-tos. “Would you mind telling your findings to the head of my guards?”
Phile tossed Foedus in the air and caught it. “Not at all.”
“Excellent. I suspect he will be along shortly.”
The freed soldiers peeked out of the lean-tos, their nerves and unease clear in the way they eyed Rakel.
Rakel fixed her posture and addressed them. “I am Princess Rakel—daughter of King Ingolfr and his Queen Runa, sister of King Steinar. You have been freed, but the battle for Verglas has just begun. Captain Halvor will arrive soon, and he will see to your needs.”
Phile strolled up to the nearest bunch of soldiers. She cocked her head and twirled her ugly dagger. “No cheering or celebrations?”
The Verglas soldiers murmured to one another.
“Not even a bow?” Phile asked.
No one moved.
“Ingrates,” Phile pronounced.
A lean-to groaned and creaked a warning as it started to collapse.
“Look out!” Rakel shouted, throwing her arms out in front of her. Her ice magic roared, and a thick shell formed—sheltering the soldiers as the lean-to caved in.
When the last board fell, the freed soldiers ducked out of their icy shelter.
Rakel cringed—she had been hoping to avoid them seeing much evidence of her magic.
The soldiers, surprisingly, did not puff up in anger or fear. Instead, they solemnly stared at her, making her uncomfortable.
Phile approached Rakel and slapped her on the back. “Good show.”
“Princess.”
Rakel’s shoulders almost slumped with relief. “Captain Halvor, please…deal with your new recruits.”
“Certainly.” Although the captain agreed, he planted himself by Rakel and eyed Phile.
“Ah, this is Phile Silver-Step.”
“The Robber Maiden,” Phile added.
“Phile, this is my advisor, and—for all general purposes—the leader of whatever troops I am with: Captain Halvor.”
Captain Halvor bowed.
“I like this one,” Phile said, looking the gruff soldier up and down.
“Is Oskar coming?” Rakel asked.
“With the Fyran villagers, yes,” Captain Halvor said.
“Excellent. Let me know when you want to see the captives.”
He perked with interest. “Captives?”
“It was Phile’s idea.”
He raised his eyebrows and gave Phile a second, appraising glance. “I will seek you out once the soldiers have been assembled and organized. If you’ll excuse me, Princess.” Rakel motioned him away, and he strode towards the soldiers. “Who are the highest ranking officers? Report in!”
Phile whistled. “He’s certainly easy on the eyes.”
“Easy on the eyes?” Rakel repeated as she made for the abandoned encampment.
“Fun to look at,” Phile said, hurrying after her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m testing the structural integrity.” Rakel placed a hand on a building and flooded its exterior with ice, testing the strength of its support beams and searching for cracks.
Phile folded her arms behind your head. “You’re moving your encampment from Ensom Peak to here, aren’t you?”
Rakel refrained from answering and moved to the next building.
Although she was originally against it, Oskar and Captain Halvor managed to brow-beat her into approving the move of Fyran to the garrison’s camp. Oskar said Fyran wouldn’t last without her. No one would send it any supply shipments as she was the only reason there was a village so high up the mountain.
Rakel had tested half of the buildings when Phile whistled again. “And here comes another strapping lad. My, oh my. The scenery you have!”
Rakel looked back to see Oskar leading a caravan of Fyran villagers.
“Princess, well done!” Oskar said, tugging on a line of reindeer. “You can hardly tell a battle was held here. The villagers will be glad to use the buildings. Are they safe?”
“As best as I can tell, although I have not seen to all of them.”
“I will tell them. If you’ll excuse my manners, who is your lovely new acquaintance?”
“Phile Silver-Step, the Robber Maiden. Phile, this is Oskar.”
Oskar took Phile’s hand and kissed it. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Phile. I am the princess’s attendant.”
“I’ll bet,” Phile said.
Rakel observed the interaction with some confusion. Oskar’s manners were always pleasant and warm, but he usually kept a proprietary distance…at least he did with her.
“Snorri, the captain has you scouting the enemy for their reaction, yes?” Rakel asked, stepping around the pair to address the inconspicuous scout.
Snorri nodded.
“Good. I tried to dump them over a mile from here, where the foothills end. Please be careful; I slickened the path back to dissuade them from returning.”
Snorri saluted Rakel, mumbled something, and loped off, leaving Knut and Aleifr.
“You did a tidy job, Princess. Right, Aleifr?” Knut asked. His voice didn’t shake, and he even grinned at Rakel—surprising her with his growing bravery.
“Ah, ma’am!” the younger soldier stammered when Phile leaned into his personal space.
“I’ll give it to you, Your Highness, you have excellent taste. Did you surround yourself with a multitude of handsome men on purpose, or was it merely good fortune?” she asked. Her close scrutiny made the already ruddy-faced Aleifr turn crimson.
“I do not care what kind of physical features my allies possess,” Rakel said.
“If I ever start a robber gang like my mother did, I’m going to follow your example and give entrance only to handsome men. I mean, a girl could get used to all of these wonderful muscles.” Phile reached out, as if to measure Aleifr’s biceps with her hands.
“Please refrain from molesting Verglas soldiers and civilians,” Rakel said, “or you will soon rival me for most uncomfortable presence in the country.”
“Princess Rakel!”
Rakel was almost knocked off her feet when Gerta and Kai threw themselves at her.
“This is so exciting!” Gerta said.
“It is the first time either of us have been off the mountain,” Kai reported. “It is much flatter than I thought it would be.”
“But it’s so pretty!” Gerta added, burying her face in Rakel’s waist.
“Well now, who might you two little angels be?” Phile asked with a dashing smile. (As soon as her attention was diverted, a relieved Aleifr snuck away.)
“I am Kai.”
“And I’m Gerta! Rakel is our hero.”
“Gerta!” a woman hissed. She stalked up to Rakel and the children, her hands clenched.
Rakel’s hackles rose, and she drew up her shoulders.
“Gerta, control yourself and apologize,” the woman ordered.
“Why?”
“Because you are hugging a princess!” The woman performed a sweeping curtsey. “Please forgive my ill-mannered child and her friend, Princess. It seems I gave birth to a barn animal.”
Phile released a great gust of laughter.
“There is nothing to forgive. I am glad for their informality,” Rakel said as the children giggled.
Beyond her stood Gerta’s grandmother and a pale-faced woman who stared at her in horror.
“Oh
, mother!” Kai said, releasing Rakel. He ran across the ice, slipping and sliding. “Come meet the Princess Rakel,” he said. His mother offered Rakel a curtsey, took Kai by the hand, and led him away.
As he trooped after her, Kai looked back and waved farewell, wilted.
Gerta’s mother sighed. “I worry about that one,” she said.
“Why?” Phile asked.
“Her husband died in the war, and she has no other relatives besides little Kai. Me and my husband try to look out for her, but she is a fragile thing… Oh, but forgive my prattle, your majesty—and my impudent offspring. I am Inga. It was my mother, Hilda, that you saved. If you have need of food, or a seamstress, please seek me out. It would be an honor to serve you.”
Rakel opened her mouth to refute the lady, but Oskar intervened. “As much as I hate to interrupt your conversation, Princess, it is unavoidable. What structures have you tested and found true?”
“If you’ll excuse me, Mistress Inga,” Rakel said.
“Of course, Princess,” Inga said, curtseying again. “Gerta, come.”
“Goodbye, Princess Rakel,” Gerta said, skipping after her mother.
“Farewell, Gerta. This way, Oskar.”
“Thank you, Princess.”
“Yes,” Phile said. “A most excellent retinue.”
“She trounced me, sir,” Bluff said, scooting his chair closer to the fire grate. “She didn’t just use my own magic against me; she swallowed it up whole. She’s real good, probably just as skilled in her powers as you are. She might even be better. She’s just as beautiful as the rumors said she was, too!” Bluff ended the sentence with the sigh of a lovesick fop.
Farrin Graydim tapped his fingers on his desktop. “How intriguing.”
“That she’s so beautiful?”
“That she’s skilled.”
Bluff adjusted the blanket in which he was swaddled so it covered his head. “Maybe her parents made her learn.”
“No. Rumors say she was locked up in an effort to smother her magic.”
“Then she must have practiced on her own.”
“But how? All the free-study in the world shouldn’t get her to that sort of skill level.” Farrin rubbed his eyes, trying to blot out the horrific practices he was subjected to. Someone must have taught her. Either that or Bluff—blinded by her considerable beauty—is overestimating her. Skill like that comes only with incredible diligence or great darkness.
“Either way, it won’t matter. Even if she’s brilliant, she won’t ever beat you,” Bluff said, sipping a hot cup of tea.
“That’s not what you said a moment ago.”
Bluff scoffed. “She might have more power and skill, but all the magic in the continent couldn’t beat you. You can hold your own against just about every one of us in the Chosen army—especially one-against-one.”
Farrin raised an eyebrow. “Your enthusiastic image of me, while flattering, is not practical,” he said dryly.
Bluff flushed and scuffed his boot on the ground. “I’m sorry, sir.”
I need to be more moderate, Farrin thought. He’s barely more than a cub and appears to be a poor judge of humor. Or maybe I’m just that frightening.
Farrin traced his scar and recalled his confrontation with the princess. She didn’t fear me, and I suspect she is every bit the idealist Bluff is. It’s a shame. If she keeps fighting us and does not flee, Tenebris will… He planted an open hand on his desk. “Next time she is seen in battle, our foremost goal is to capture her—alive.”
“Yes, sir!”
CHAPTER 6
FORGING FRIENDSHIPS
Rakel shut her eyes and tossed a snowball from her palm, throwing it in a random direction. She spun, opened her eyes, found the snowball, threw wrist-thick icicles at it—obliterating it midair—raised an ice shield to catch the remains of the snowball, and then crushed the loose snow with a second slab of ice.
She checked the tightness of her braid—it was coiled in a bun today—and studied the dusting of snow that remained of the snowball. My aim is improving, although tossing and hitting more than one snowball will be the real test.
Dawn crawled over the horizon, making the snow glow orange and scaring off the extra chill of the night. Rakel’s practice area was a fair distance from the encampment. She took pains to practice early in the morning when the villagers were too busy to wander off. She suspected that, in spite of her assurances to Oskar and Captain Halvor that she was embarking on a morning walk, Snorri or one of the other scouts shadowed her—but they had to be watching from a distance, as Rakel had purposely chosen a flat area with no outcrops or shrubs to hide behind.
She closed her eyes and, using her magic, flung a dozen snowballs in the air. She opened her eyes and shattered the snowballs with icicles, then crushed the falling snow between slabs of ice. She hit all twelve snowballs.
Rakel allowed herself a moment of satisfaction before closing her eyes and repeating the process—this time with twenty snowballs. She hit all of the targets but did not catch every flake of the falling snow. Her magic stretched and romped under her control as she flexed her fingers.
“That was pretty impressive!” Phile crowed.
Rakel jumped and made a spear of ice. When she saw who it was, she discreetly tossed the spear aside, where it cracked and shattered into tiny pieces.
“Thank you.” Rakel clasped her hands together and pressed them against her stomach. Though the Robber Maiden had done nothing suspicious, she still hadn’t earned Rakel’s trust. She was far too friendly.
“No, I mean it. I think the Dishonorable Knaves could rob a king if you worked with ’em,” Phile said, following the trail of light footprints Rakel left. “Do you mind if I join you? I could always use practice tossing daggers at moving targets.”
She is mad. Who would willingly wish to be subjected to magic? “I fear I have just finished,” Rakel lied.
Phile sighed and leaned against the life-sized horse snow sculpture Rakel had made as her warm-up. “That’s too bad. It’s a pretty thing to watch you work.”
Rakel furrowed her brow in disbelief.
“It is,” Phile insisted. “It’s like a leaping deer—no, that doesn’t properly describe your abilities. Hmm…seeing you work your magic is like, like watching a wolf sing. That’s what you are, a little wolf!”
“I suppose it is appropriate,” Rakel said. “Wolves are creatures to be feared.”
Phile rolled her eyes and set her gloved hands on her hips. “You are too dreary. Has anyone told you that? Why do you cast yourself and your magic in such an ill light?”
“Because society has placed us there.”
“Society is a horrible source,” Phile snorted. “Besides, it seems so natural when you wield it. What does it feel like?”
Rakel blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“What does it feel like to wield magic?” Phile tested the sturdiness of the snow horse and then wriggled on its back so she rode it. She leaned over its neck and propped her chin up on her arms. “You’re the first magic user I’ve officially met—though I observed a bunch of those stuffy Chosen officers. So, what is it like?” She wore an open, earnest expression, and her dark-colored eyes were bright with curiosity.
I…I think she really wants to know.
Rakel crouched down and picked up a scoopful of snow with her bare hands. She let it trickle through her fingers as she thought. “I suspect the feel of the magic is unique to each individual. Mine is cold and crisp. It can be sharp when I need it to…and occasionally overwhelming.”
“Like ice and snow. That would make sense. Is that all you feel when you handle magic?” Phile asked, inching forward on the snow horse.
“No, it’s only the flavor of the magic. Handling magic itself…you’re aware of something you shouldn’t have, but you do. When I draw upon it, it’s like a wild animal that grows tame because it sees me. It knows my secrets, wishes, and fears…and it allows me to move and wield it as I will. It’s li
ke a hundred feathers brushing every part of me, but it also is like a thousand fangs, waiting to descend.”
“It sounds much more personal than I imagined,” Phile said. “I thought it was something you just used—like your eyes or your sense of smell.”
“No. My magic is always there, but it’s not so integrated. It can calm and reassure me. My sense of smell can’t do that.”
“It sounds beautiful,” Phile said, her words edged with wistfulness.
Most times, I think it is.
“As stuffy as the Chosen are—the name, it’s so awful!—they have a point,” Phile continued. “Those with magic really are gifted.”
Rakel snorted before she realized she was doing so.
“I mean it—or everyone would have magic. It’s an opportunity given to a few, to see how they will use it,” Phile said. “I’m glad that you love your magic so much. That is what makes you so good at it, and so powerful.”
“I do not love my magic,” Rakel forced the words from her mouth, though they tasted of lies. I cannot let the truth be known, or I’ll be feared even more!
“Right. In any case, I thank you for your honest answer,” Phile said, sliding off the horse. “Are you all finished practicing? Because I won’t lie, since I don’t have magic, fighting with yours is about the closest I’ll come. And I suspect it will be a pretty good substitute. So, could we spar?”
Rakel checked her braid again just to give her something to do to cover her shock. “Why do you wish for magic?”
“Because I see beauty and the possibility to love others, where the rest of the dunder-heads on this continent are blinded by their ignorance.” The Robber Maiden smiled with her whole being, making her hair and skin glow with the power of her feelings.
“Very well,” Rakel said, giving in. “You said you wanted to practice on a moving target, yes?”
“Yes! This is so great—we’ll have bonding time every morning during our sparring sessions!”
“I beg your—every morning?”
“Don’t think I didn’t figure out how you creep away and practice in secret. If we’re going to face the Chosen together, I’ll have to get used to working with your magic.”
“I did not agree to a daily practice session,” Rakel said stiffly.