by K. M. Shea
Is he ill? All of Rakel’s thoughts stilled when he drew closer to her bed and raised both of his hands above his head, his trembling fingers clenching a dagger. When he started to swing his hands down, Rakel reacted explosively.
She hit him with her ice magic, forming a block of ice around his hands and the dagger as she sat up, avoiding the blow.
Aleifr cried out like a wounded bird, and Rakel shoved him back with a block of ice, sending him crashing into the crude, wooden chair. She lunged for the door and threw her powers at him one last time. She gave him a fleeting glance and watched as her ice magic encased his feet and legs and moved up his torso. She sprang outside, slamming the door behind her.
Snorri and Knut had just rounded the corner, and they both blinked at her sudden appearance. “Princess—” Knut started.
Rakel ran before he could say anything more, her mind racing as fast as her pounding heart. I was right. They want to kill me. The unpleasant thought ran a constant path through her mind.
She sprinted through the encampment, aware and not caring that frost crawled across the buildings parallel to her—an expression of her panic.
“Little Wolf!” Phile yelled.
Rakel kept running. The wind kicked up, and snowflakes spiraled through the sky—lighting up in the last rays of the setting sun.
“Princess, where are you going?” little Gerta shouted.
Rakel still didn’t stop. When she passed the last building, a wall of ice flew up behind her and encompassed half the encampment, giving her a head start. As she ran toward the trees, the whipping wind scattered the snow of the drifts, covering her tracks. A bell rang in the camp, but when Rakel reached the forest, the trees muted it.
The sun was gone, and night fell, but Rakel kept running. Fear and panic dragged her forward. She darted around trees and looked wildly over her shoulder, paranoid she could hear men shouting. She dodged a tree—and Rakel was thrown backwards by a black shape hurtling through the woods at impossible speed.
She braced for impact, preparing herself to hit the ground, but the black shape caught her.
“Rakel, you’re alive.” Farrin’s voice seeped with relief.
Rakel gaped up at him. He didn’t smile—at least, his lips weren’t shaped in a smile—but his eyes were soft with something that considerably emphasized his handsome features. Even the harshness of his scar seemed to soften.
“Were you hurt?” he asked. Rakel tried to scramble out of his grasp, but he held her an arm’s length away and looked her up and down, apparently not trusting her to answer truthfully.
“By your tame snow bear, yes,” she growled.
“Bunny is a magic user—I am disappointed you didn’t realize that.” His eyes lingered on her bandaged side and arm. “So the soldier didn’t kill you?”
Rakel froze. “How do you know about that?” she asked, reaching for her ice magic.
“I just found out about it a little while ago. I was on my way to warn you.”
“You found out about it? Do you have an oracle in your army?”
“No. The Chosen army technically is behind the attack. Kavon, a colonel in a different regiment, made the arrangements.”
The declaration hardly stung less. After Phile had just finished harping about her people’s loyalty, it was not promising to have one of the soldiers betray her for the enemy.
What kind of luck do I have that I evade an assassination attempt and then run into my greatest enemy, who inspects me for wounds? Farrin spun her around so he could study her back.
He eventually let her go, but Rakel wasn’t fooled. With his speed magic, he could grab her any time he chose. She backed away from him, her muscles tight.
He held his hands up. “I’m unarmed,” he said, turning so Rakel could see that he hadn’t brought his two-handed greatsword.
“You can still use your reflective magic,” Rakel said, snowflakes whirling at her fingertips.
He raised his eyebrows and gave her an almost imperceptible nod, approving of her observation. “Yes, but a weapon makes it easier.”
Rakel stored that tidbit for later. “Why didn’t you bring your sword?”
“I doubted you would pause to hear my warning if I had it.”
“Why would you want to warn me?”
Farrin paused, and she could sense he was constructing his answer. “Because you are very talented, and though you stand against us, you are of noble character.”
She stared at him, hearing his words and sensing that while they were not false, they were not the entire truth.
“You don’t believe me,” he said.
“Isn’t now the time for you to ask me to join you again? Or will you drag me back to Glowma, regardless of my wishes?”
Farrin furrowed his brow. “I would not—it would be pointless—so I would rather spare myself the trouble.”
“Pointless?”
“I don’t believe I could ever convince you to join our cause, even after you were nearly killed by one of your own soldiers. Though you might consider leaving them, you would never turn against them.”
“You can’t know that,” Rakel said.
“You would consider betraying your country?”
Rakel snapped her mouth shut and was tempted to glare. “Whether or not I would, your cause is hardly just.”
“We seek to establish a country where magic users can live without fear. In what way is that unjust?”
“Because you would build it on the backs of others. Even so, that is not your primary goal.”
Farrin’s easy demeanor left him. “What?”
“Verglas is one of the least-cruel countries on the continent when it comes to magic users—Baris is likely the only country that is significantly more kind. Why would you attack a country that is mostly self-contained, harbors a small amount of magic users, and is among the least brutal? You would fast gain the enmity of the more savage countries.”
Farrin stared at Rakel. “Least brutal?”
“I’ve read the stories. Ringsted has an active slave trade in magic users; Sarthe holds gladiator battles. In Verglas, they are scorned and driven out of towns, and a few are held in service, but we have never been forced to fight for our life.”
“What about you?” Farrin asked. “Is your treatment not among the cruelest of all? To never have a childhood, or even friends?”
Rakel shut her eyes, briefly reliving the long, lonely years. “Perhaps, but even I am forced to admit that setting me loose or attempting to use my powers would have been potentially deadly.”
“You are not dangerous.”
“No, but my royal blood can be when it is used as a political weapon.”
“So you defend your parents and brother who abandoned you, and a people who have betrayed you. Perhaps you can see why I did not bother to waste my breath with another offer?”
“Rakel! Little Wolf!” Phile shouted, her voice snaking through the trees.
Rakel turned to listen, but she almost jumped when Farrin moved to stand next to her. “You will speak to her?”
“I trust her.”
Farrin nodded. “Though I know you will not believe me, there will be no more assassination attempts from our camp. But you cannot win this war alone, Your Highness. It would be wise to consider alternate options.” He captured a lock of Rakel’s wild hair, slid his gloved fingers down it, and tucked it over her shoulder.
The action could only be considered affectionate, but it made Rakel’s spine tighten to have him so close to her when she knew he could harm her in less than a heartbeat. She considered stepping away, but the thought came to her too late.
Farrin left, leaving a wind in his wake as he headed back to Glowma.
Rakel shivered. I may have spent twelve years in seclusion, but even I can tell he acts peculiarly compared to others.
“Little Wolf!”
“Oskar would say he has a mineral deficiency,” Rakel sighed as she moved towards Phile’s voice. She called out enoug
h that Rakel had no difficulty finding the thief mounted on her stolen horse and brandishing a torch.
“Rakel—please.”
“Are you still certain my paranoia is misplaced?” Rakel said, stepping into the torchlight. Even though she knew Phile wasn’t responsible, she couldn’t help the frost that crusted her voice.
“King’s nose hairs, you’re safe,” Phile said, sagging in the saddle. She sprang off the horse and threw her arms around Rakel, pulling her into a warm embrace. The Robber Maiden’s hug was stronger and more fierce than the embraces Gerta and Kai sprinkled on Rakel, but it was just as warm, and Phile also seemed to smell like warm gingerbread.
After several long moments in which Phile didn’t seem to mind that Rakel didn’t respond, Rakel raised her uninjured arm and patted Phile on the back. She didn’t know what one was supposed to do during an embrace, so she kept patting her. Phile squeezed harder, and Rakel’s breath hitched. “My side.”
Phile released her. “Sorry, I forgot about that. I’m just so glad you’re unharmed. Halvor is blaming himself, you know. Aleifr was in his squad—the one that guarded you.”
“I know,” Rakel said, her anger flaring again.
“Knut and Snorri had to hog tie Oskar. Literally. He thought you would eventually go back to your ice-castle, so he wanted to start up the mountain tonight. Some of us tried to tell him that if you were running, you would flee the country, but he insisted you would eventually return to the castle, perhaps not for years, but you would return.”
“If you are trying to guilt me into coming back, it will not work.”
“I’m not trying to guilt you. I’m trying to tell you that there are people who care for you. Half the encampment is searching the woods—I just happened to find you first because I’m the only one mounted.”
“How can you ride a horse in this weather?”
“You don’t give Farrin and his minions enough credit. All the Chosen horses were outfitted with horse snowshoes.”
“I see.”
“Won’t you come tell Captain Halvor and Oskar you’re safe?” Phile captured Rakel’s uninjured arm.
“No. Though I am sorry they are distraught, I cannot believe you would even suggest I return!”
“Why not?”
“I was nearly killed, Phile, after you had just spouted poetry of people revering and trusting me, and after taking me to task for the healthy—and appropriate—fear I have for my life.”
“The timing was awful,” Phile admitted. “But I stand by my words.”
“How? Do you make light of the threat against my life?”
“Certainly not,” Phile said. “It is only because I was so concerned with finding you that I have not had an opportunity to slip a knife in that traitor. But it is gravely unfair of you to make sweeping generalizations about your supporters because of the actions of a handful.”
Rakel gaped at her. “Unfair? After everything I have lived through?”
“To an average person that might be a good rebuttal, but you’re above that, Little Wolf.”
“I am not above looking past violence against me.”
“Sure you are. You’ve done it already. You can’t tell me you didn’t know it was Knut who shot at you in your castle, and you’ve never treated him with hatred or scorn.”
Rakel took a step back. “How do you know about that incident?”
“He told me—so did Oskar. You could have told Halvor, and he would have sacked Knut—war or not—but you didn’t.”
“It was obvious Knut shot at me out of fright. As my guards rarely saw me, his fear was perhaps understandable. This incident with Aleifr is far more serious as he purposely acted as a traitor.”
Phile balanced Foedus on her knuckles. “How do you know? He said he thought you were sleeping when he entered your room.”
“Farrin Graydim found me,” Rakel said bitterly.
Phile dropped Foedus in her shock. “And he let you go?” she exclaimed.
“It is odd,” Rakel said, still unsettled by the memory of Farrin tucking her hair over her shoulder. “But I refuse to discuss his behavior. I still take offense that you believe it is unfair that I am so guarded.”
“Why? You practically made my point for me when you said Knut and Aleifr were different situations.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Hm, right. I’ll try to use a metaphor you will understand. Do you know why people fear those who can use magic so much?”
“Because we are monsters of nature.”
“No,” Phile said. “It’s because when folks started discovering magic—besides the small things that herbwomen, woodsmen, and the like can do—there were several evil, greedy people who had magic and decided they were better than everyone else, so they should rule the world. They didn’t get very far—back then there were even fewer gifted with magic than there are now—but they taught the continent a bloody lesson: magic users aren’t to be trusted. You follow?”
“I read as much in several history books,” Rakel said.
“Of course you did. Now, certainly you know that supposed lesson is wrong. You’re a good person, and even some of the enemy mages seem nice enough. It would be truthful to say that regular people made a sweeping decision, when it was only a few magic users who couldn’t be trusted. Sadly, they made their minds up, and now magic users are subjected to horrible things because of the actions of those few evil people. What you think about the villagers and troops is the same concept. Because of the actions of several weak-minded, greedy men, you are going to forsake all of them—including the Gertas, the Oskars, and the Halvors among them.”
Rakel was quiet as the snow continued to fall.
“Come with me.”
“I haven’t agreed to come back.”
“We’re not going to go back, but there’s something you need to see.” Phile grabbed the reins of her horse and moved east. Rakel reluctantly fell in step with her and used the walk to adjust the weather so it no longer snowed on her behalf.
When Phile stopped to extinguish her torch, Rakel could hear faint shouts.
“Princess!”
“Princess Rakel!”
Phile, Rakel, and the horse made their way around a thick wall of pine trees. The forest was dotted with flickering lights. Villagers and troops alike held torches above their heads as they squinted in the darkness and shouted.
“Princess!”
“We’re sorry!” Knut shouted, his usually smiling face lined with grief.
Rakel’s icy wrath buckled. She thought she was valued for her ability to free villages, but a valuable weapon wouldn’t bring out so many people. Inga—Gerta’s mother—was out, as was Captain Halvor and the guards from his squad, a number of Fyran and Vefsna villagers, and many of the soldiers she had freed from the Chosen garrison. They were searching for her in spite of the snow and cold, on the same night as a hard-fought battle. They had to be bone-weary, but they kept plodding through the forest.
“What am I supposed to do, Phile?”
“Trust them,” she advised. “Let them know you trust them. No matter where you run, if people are involved in your life, you will be hurt; it’s a fact of life. But you of all people should know that loneliness hurts even worse.”
“That doesn’t make it any less frightening.” Rakel raised her chin and walked towards the searchers. Phile followed behind her, towing her horse.
It was Captain Halvor who saw her first. “Princess,” he breathed, his face slackening with relief. In four quick strides, he bridged the space between them and searched her—in a much less invasive and personal way than Farrin had—for injuries. “You’re not wounded,” he said.
“No,” Rakel said as soldiers shouted down the line, alerting everyone that she had been found.
Captain Halvor fell to his knees and bowed to her, his face hovering above the snow as the searchers ran to join them. “It was my mistake, Princess. I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I must tell you how deep
ly I regret the incident.”
Rakel stared at the crumpled captain and wondered how she should react. She didn’t blame him; even with Aleifr’s attempt fresh in her mind, she had never thought that he was behind this. He deserved to know that, but how? Phile poked her in the spine and gave her a meaningful look that didn’t help her at all. I’ve been locked up for twelve years. How am I supposed to know how you comfort a person?
She flattened her lips and glanced at their audience, who watched her with wide eyes. Thinking of the way Phile hugged her and the multiple times Farrin had maneuvered her with care, Rakel knelt in the snow. She hoped her hands weren’t terribly cold as she placed one on his shoulder, making Captain Halvor look up at her in surprise.
“You cannot be held responsible for the heart of your men,” she said. It took her several moments, but she allowed a smile as fragile as a snowflake to emerge from the depths of her heart. She always considered him to be a glacier-solid man, but the ache in his eyes spoke of a pain in the failure of his soldier. “And even if I did hold you responsible, you have my respect and my trust, Captain. You would not so easily lose either of those.”
She barely had enough time to read the relief in his eyes before he ducked his head, shielding his face. She looked up and was surprised to see some of the soldiers and villagers were teary-eyed. She felt her cheeks heat and tried to smooth her hair. She awkwardly patted Captain Halvor on his back and stood.
“Shall we go home?” Phile asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes,” Rakel said, grateful for the help.
“Climb on—you can ride back with me. We need to have a healer take another peek at your side. You might have opened the wound again.”
The procession back home was quiet but cheerful. Captain Halvor and his guards seemed determined to prove their loyalty, for they stayed with Phile and Rakel, their eyes watchful for any perceived threat or danger.
Phile rode straight into the encampment and all the way up to the room Oskar shared with Captain Halvor. Initially, Rakel didn’t believe it was Oskar tied up inside. His voice did not contain its usual cheer and carefree tone, but was dark and threatening.