Heart of Ice (The Snow Queen Book 1)

by K. M. Shea

  My first look at an actual city will be a scouting mission. It’s not the introduction I would have chosen, but not even two months ago, I didn’t think I would ever see outside the walls of my castle. Thinking of the weather magic user and Farrin Graydim, Rakel lifted her gaze to the sky. Even so, I hope I don’t meet another magic user while we’re scouting. It would put our mission in jeopardy, I’m certain.

  CHAPTER 7

  SCOUTING

  The night Halvor selected for their scouting party was cold and clear—the kind of night on which Rakel ached to use her magic because the moon would light up snowflakes and ice with the brilliance of gems.

  Oskar studied Glowma with a tilted head and furrowed eyebrows. “How will we get inside? The city is built on a hill. They’ll see us coming long before we arrive.”

  Rakel fussed with the leadline of her reindeer—the group had traveled in reindeer-pulled sleighs—and relinquished it to Aleifr. “I cannot tunnel us in. The snow is but a few inches thick.”

  “You could do something like that?” Phile asked.

  Rakel twitched her gray cloak into place so it no longer grappled for her throat and wished she had said nothing. “Yes.”

  “How would you get in, Snorri?” Oskar asked.

  Snorri shrugged and said something to the ground.

  “The city was built for trade—not war or occupation. There are no wall walkways or watchtowers. The only viewpoint in the city is the municipal building,” Captain Halvor said. “There are patrols around the walls, but we can avoid being spotted if we time it right.”

  “And what? Scale the walls with our teeth?” Phile snorted.

  Captain Halvor eyed the Robber Maiden but had the self-control to refrain from saying anything snippy. “In addition to the large gate, there are a number of smaller ones built for city residential use.”

  “They won’t be guarded?” Oskar asked.

  A rare bit of anger flashed in Captain Halvor’s placid exterior. “If you two would give me sufficient time to explain, we could be inside by now.”

  Rakel studied the city—which wasn’t more than a wooden structure on the horizon. Thinking of Farrin’s revelation about his spy among them in Vefsna, she asked, “You’ve got an inside man paid to open the gates?”

  “Yes,” Captain Halvor said, brushing snow from his pants.

  “I expected better of you, Halvor, than depending on a cliché like that,” Oskar said.

  “The whole point of a scouting mission is to avoid catching attention,” Captain Halvor growled. “If we don’t move, we’ll miss the appointed time. Aleifr, tend to the reindeer!”

  “Yes, sir,” Aleifr saluted.

  Rakel followed her companions as they hustled to the city, occasionally darting behind embankments when they saw the glow of the patrolling guards circling the building.

  “Aren’t you freezing?” Phile asked, staring at Rakel’s clothes. She wore a light blue Bunad and a dim, gray cape.

  Phile, on the other hand, was swaddled in cloth and wore at least two scarves, fur-lined boots, and the thickest mittens Rakel had ever seen.

  “It’s not that cold,” Rakel said.

  “The sun is down. Yes, it is very cold,” Phile growled. “You have snow bear blood flowing in your veins.”

  “Silence,” Captain Halvor snarled, darting the remaining distance to the small supply gate. He rapped a strange pattern on the doors, and they swung open. “Hurry!”

  Rakel checked to make sure the hood of her cape covered her moon-bright hair as she followed Oskar inside.

  Captain Halvor’s man closed the doors behind them, and Rakel got her first glimpse at the innards of Glowma.

  While Rakel’s books and written records had described the average dimension and architecture style of houses and buildings, there was so much it hadn’t prepared her for. The air smelled of smoke, manure, and hay, and it was so loud. Even though most of the city was sleeping, store signs creaked; a cat yowled and knocked a bucket over; a group of men laughed several streets down; and a goat bleated.

  The books also failed to mention all the dirt, Rakel realized as Captain Halvor led her past a pile of garbage. And the smell. It took most of her self-control, but Rakel managed to keep the majority of her attention on Captain Halvor and took in the sights as they ghosted up a small street sandwiched between the backend of stores.

  Phile patted her on the shoulder and smiled in reassurance. When Rakel stared at her, the Robber Maiden glanced up ahead, threw an arm around Rakel’s shoulders, and dragged her—by the neck—into an alleyway, nearly stabbing her in the face with Foedus.

  A squad of Chosen troops turned a corner and marched down the lane. Rakel and Phile ducked, crouching among barrels, blending in with the shadows. Captain Halvor, Oskar, and Snorri were nowhere to be seen. The soldiers stopped, the ring of torchlight falling just short of their barrels.

  “Come,” Phile breathed into Rakel’s ear.

  “Are you mad?” Rakel hissed, peering between the barrels. She was treated to the sight of a Chosen soldier scratching his bum. “Where are the others?”

  “They ducked into the other alley. If we steal away now, that handsome Captain-Mother won’t be able to catch up.”

  Rakel tugged the brim of her hood. “And what are you proposing we do?”

  “You need a better assessment of the city than what your nursemaids are going to give you. Come on,” Phile said, sliding away.

  Rakel could see why Phile could call herself the Robber Maiden. Even though she wore at least five layers of clothes, she moved like a shadow—quiet and stealthy.

  Rakel hesitated for a moment. What if this is a trap?

  Phile gestured for her to follow.

  Indecision gnawed at Rakel as she studied Phile—who, she was beginning to realize, had wormed her way past Rakel’s icy interior defenses. Rakel momentarily shut her eyes to collect herself, and then slowly eased away as the soldiers lingered. When she crept from the alleyway, Phile twirled Foedus and flashed her a white grin.

  “Perfect work, Little Wolf,” she whispered. She grabbed Rakel by the hand and dragged her along, weaving between closed-up stores. “Right now, we’re in the business section—few people live here, and no one has bothered opening their stores since Glowma was taken,” Phile said. “Still, you don’t want to sacrifice this area if you can help it. People make their livelihood here.” She spoke a little louder now that they were farther away from patrolling soldiers.

  “As I shouldn’t throw my magic around in the residential area, using these stores as the place to make my stand might be my only choice,” Rakel said, frowning as she took in the high roofs. Some were thatched, and others were pitched steeply to encourage snowfall to slide off, which was unfortunate. She had been hoping she could boost some of the Verglas soldiers onto the roofs to pick off enemy soldiers.

  “You’re forgetting the municipal buildings—though there is only one big one,” Phile said. “And, of course, the barracks.”

  “It’s not just the Verglas citizens I wish to spare,” Rakel said.

  Phile rolled her eyes. “You are the most righteous hero I’ve ever met—and I’ve seen quite a few!”

  “I am not a hero.”

  “ ‘Course you are.”

  “No, I’m not,” Rakel said.

  “Of course you are. Who else would rescue a country that has scorned them? Certainly not villains. It’s this way.”

  Phile darted up streets, leading Rakel through the darkened maze of Glowma. A smile as thin as the first ice of winter settled on Rakel’s lips as they left the business area for the residential section, and she was given a chance to see how the city residents lived.

  It’s bittersweet, she thought as she lingered in front of a home littered with child-sized sleds. Previously, I couldn’t fathom what I was missing. Now…I’m starting to understand.

  When Phile prowled up to a house, Rakel halted. “I’m not breaking into a residence.”

  �
�We’re not breaking in. We’ve got an invite.”

  Rakel was as still as a glacier. “You know the owner of this house?”

  “Yep! And they know you,” Phile said, pointing to two small wooden carvings—a reindeer and a snowflake—that hung from the door frame on brightly colored ribbons.

  “Of course they know me,” Rakel sighed as she drew closer. “I am the scary story parents use to manipulate their children into going to bed early and eating their vegetables.”

  “Not these people, and not anymore.” Phile rapped on the door in an uneven pattern.

  The door opened a crack, admitting a large eye and a bushy eyebrow. “Phile? That you?”

  “Yngvarr, you scamp! Let me in; it’s horrid out here.”

  “You are still as carefree as ever. Come in, come in!”

  Phile stomped inside, and Rakel cautiously followed her, keeping the hood of her cape up.

  “Sit down and pull up a chair,” their greeter, Yngvarr, said. He was a large, gruff man—broad chested and hairy. His chair creaked when he sat down with a thump.

  Seated with him were a man and woman. The woman was well dressed and handsome, if not a little broad-faced. Their host’s other guest was an older, distinguished-looking gentleman who was long and thin like a crane, but boasted a deep smile and laughter wrinkles on his face.

  “The gent on the right is Tryggvi. He is—was—Glowma’s constable. Pordis is the Glowma leader of the merchant guild. Friends, allow me to introduce the Robber Maiden—and her companion.”

  Rakel stood in the shadows, but Phile thumped across the room like an old friend.

  “Merchant guild? I like the sound of that.” Phile considered the title as she lowered herself into a chair. “The name’s Phile—and that’s my friend, Kel.”

  Rakel raised her eyes to the rafters and allowed herself a small headshake at Phile’s terrible attempt to hide her name.

  “Greetings,” Tryggvi—the city employee—said. His smile was tired and worn, but his eyes were kind. “What brings the famed Robber Maiden to Glowma?”

  “Sight-seeing, of a sort,” Phile said.

  Rakel listened to Phile’s response, but she mostly stood like a tree stump and studied the cheerfully lit house, eyeing the carved knickknacks, the winter gear—skis, snowshoes, and ice saws—and the few children’s toys that dotted the room.

  “You’ve picked a poor time to do it,” Pordis snorted. “Everything is shut down—Chosen’s rules.”

  “The Snow Queen will come,” Yngvarr said, drawing Rakel’s attention.

  The who?

  “I would not blame her if she did not.” Tryggvi tapped his fingers on his knobby knees. “But the truth is, if we don’t get the invaders thrown off us soon, we’ll start running out of food in a few weeks.”

  “Why?” Phile frowned and propped her boots up on a footstool. “Did Glowma residents fail to prepare for the winter?”

  “No, but the Chosen leadership is demanding a food tax.” Pordis scowled. “And even then, we might have lasted if they would let us leave the city to trap, hunt, and ice fish. But they insist we remain under full shut-down. I’m impressed you slipped past their guard.”

  Phile removed her mittens and one of her scarves. “I’ll tell Princess Rakel of your plight. If she’s moved, she might come rescue you.”

  Rakel stared at Phile. That cheeky, manipulative—I don’t need to be convinced that Glowma should be purged!

  Their host stroked his bushy beard. “You really know her, then?”

  “ ‘Course! I told you last time I visited that she was my dear companion.” Phile frowned and eyed him as she pulled Foedus out of thin air.

  “Don’t you look at me like that, Silver-Step. If you did every little thing you claimed, you’d be a legend by now.”

  “You mean to say I’m not?” Phile asked, sounding scandalized.

  Rakel held in a wolfish grin, enjoying Phile’s outrage.

  “You’re playing in a war-torn country whose only hope is a magic-wielding princess cast out of the royal family over a decade ago.” Pordis rubbed the beads strung to her shawl. “I don’t know if you could ever compete with such epic makings.”

  Rakel clasped her hands together so she wouldn’t clap and point at Phile. The Robber Maiden’s face scrunched, like she had been forced to eat an entire barrel of pickled fish.

  “Yah,” their host said, adding a log to the crackling fire. “These days, most folks hold the thought of the Snow Queen close to their hearts.”

  “Who?” Rakel closed her mouth with an audible click, irritated that her curiosity popped the word out of her mouth.

  “The Snow Queen, my dear.” Tryggvi’s thin smile grew gentle. “Haven’t you heard whispers of her?”

  When it became apparent he was expecting a reply, Rakel said, “No.”

  “She’s Verglas’s greatest tragedy and last hope: the Princess Rakel,” Pordis said.

  It took Rakel several moments to grasp the answer. I’m the Snow Queen? While I’ve been worried about supposed allies sticking knives in my back, the country is giving me a pretty title? Reindeer antlers—I’ll never understand them! She held in a weary sigh. Once I free Glowma and they witness my powers, they won’t be even half as friendly or wistful. Oh well.

  Phile grumbled. “She’s not that amazing.”

  Rakel deliberated for a moment, then drew closer to the seated companions. “Why do you call her the Snow Queen? She’s a princess.”

  “There’re different sorts of royalty—the most common being those born by blood,” Yngvarr said. “But sometimes, there’s a special sort of person who’s so noble and honorable in spite of personal tragedy that they deserve the same reverence. That would be our Snow Queen.”

  “I know she’s noble and honorable because we are bosom friends.” Phile twisted in her chair to glance at Rakel. She nodded to her, and then cast her eyes back on her conversation partners. “But how do you folk know she’s so good?

  “You do not have to know a man—or woman—personally to know that they are good,” Tryggvi said. “We know the Snow Queen is noble, or she would stand with the invaders. No, her actions speak loud enough for the entire country to hear.”

  “The title is also a result of her magic; she all but rules winter,” Pordis dryly added. “You are quite poetic considering you’re a woodsman, Yngvarr.”

  “Thank you,” he chuckled.

  Rakel stood in the shadows and felt like a fraud. Their estimation of her character did not make her feel any more inclined to trust—humans were too disposed towards betrayal for that—but she knew she wasn’t noble or honorable. She had been reluctant to take any action at all.

  Phile abandoned her chair. “We thank you for your welcome, but I’m thawed out and ready to continue our tour, so we had best take our leave. Right, Kel?”

  “I don’t know why you pretend my thoughts count,” Rakel said.

  “There’s that bright nature of yours I love so much! Tryggvi, Pordis, it was lovely meeting you. Perhaps I will call upon you again, soon—especially you, Pordis. The sound of a guild interests me.”

  “Take care, Robber Maiden,” the merchant said, a half-smile playing at her lips.

  Yngvarr’s chair sagged in relief when he stood. “Frida is gone tending to a sick friend; she’ll be sad she missed you. Any idea when you’ll be by again?”

  “Soon,” Phile said, her smile was extra toothy and almost savage. “And I’ll bring more companions with me.”

  “We’ll look forward to it,” Yngvarr said, his hand on the door.

  “Scouting?” Rakel murmured to Phile.

  “Ah, right. I don’t suppose any of you know if there are any particularly empty parts of Glowma?” Phile asked as she put on her mittens and scarf.

  Tryggvi frowned. “I can’t say I do…. The municipal building is filled to the brim—it serves as a regional headquarters for the Chosen army.”

  Pordis sighed. “Merchant’s Lane is abandoned�
�’tis a sorry sight to see.”

  Yngvarr smoothed his beard. “There’s the stables. When the Chosen first arrived, they shipped most of our horses south. There’s a few domesticated animals left, but they stay with the families that own ’em.”

  “The stables, wonderful. Thank you!” Phile said in a sing-song voice. “Take care!” Yngvarr opened the door for her, and she stepped outside. “By the King’s toes—it’s wretched out here! Come on, Kel.”

  Phile scurried into the street, hopping and jumping like a sparrow searching for food. “You people are crazy for living in a frozen tundra.”

  Rakel offered their host a bow, then followed her. “It’s the middle of winter. I’m not sure what else you would expect.”

  “The ability to feel my toes, that’s what! Come on. Let’s go get a look at the municipal buildings and the stables—they’re located near each other, and there are two gates a stone’s throw away from them. It might be a good location for you.”

  Rakel fell in line with her and, in a rare moment of pettiness, took care to throw her cloak wide—unbothered by the wind that streamed through her clothes.

  “You disgust me,” Phile grunted as they turned up a side street. “And if I lose my nose to frostbite, I’m going to blame you.”

  “It’s not that cold. You would have to stay outside for several hours to manage that.”

  “I, for once, don’t wish to test that time frame—especially as I am a delicate, Baris desert flower.”

  “You have the delicacy of a wild boar.”

  Phile gave a honk of laughter. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a wicked sense of humor when you allow yourself to stop worrying what people think of you?”

  Rakel gathered her cape around her, a little uncomfortable with her own forthrightness. “No.”

  “Well, you do. You should let it out more often—let it get some fresh air and sunshine. Though up here, you might accidentally let it freeze to death. Careful, now, we’re almost there.”