by Jessica Daw
I couldn’t go inside. It would be unbearable to go when he was gone. It was already almost more than I could bear to see it at all. How could I ever have thought it ugly?
No, I could still see, how it hunched on the cliff like a wounded, black beast. How could I possibly love the sight of my ugly old fortress castle? A year earlier, I would never have guessed that I would want nothing more than the life I’d been so furious to have then.
I couldn’t bear seeing the castle. Ignoring the stars appearing like clouds of scattered diamonds and the temperature that I hadn’t thought could drop, I pushed Rune forward.
“What would I do without you?” I whispered to Rune, leaning forward for a brief second. Steady as ever, he kept walking forward, carrying me towards Kristian, away from the scene of my greatest error.
We rode on, toward the mountains, the sun on our left and the moon on our right. I knew he couldn’t hear me. I knew it, but I whispered, “I’m coming. Kristian, I’m coming. I’ll find you. I swear it.” For some reason, it released the grief better than a scream. Still, it was there, clinging to me, drowning me.
We didn’t stop until the very last hint of light had faded from the sky. Rune was panting hard enough to break my heart if it wasn’t already broken.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to him as I dismounted stiffly, falling to one knee as my legs tried to support my weight. I allowed myself a dozen hard breaths before straightening and taking care of Rune. It felt like it took hours to brush him down, but I needed to take care of him if I wanted him to take me . . . wherever. He couldn’t swim across an ocean to the frozen island Sikuvok was.
“Don’t think about it,” I told myself, even though my heartbeat was already getting erratic at the thought of failure. “I won’t fail. I won’t.” The idea of lying down and trying to sleep was terrifying. I paced for a moment, ate something I didn’t trouble myself to identify and couldn’t have said what it tasted like if my life depended on it, then clenched my jaw and spread out the thin bedroll Magdalena had sent with me.
I moaned when I laid my head down. I would kill Magdalena. Murder her with my bare hands. What was she thinking? How could she have given me his bedroll?
It was the sweetest misery I had ever experienced. The stupid sleeping roll smelled like Kristian, a smell I couldn’t describe but would have known anywhere. My hands tightened painfully around the fabric. How could I have expected this? I was so afraid to think of Kristian that way, to think of his scent, his face, his touch. I was making this journey to free him, I could not demand he choose me. I knew him well enough to believe he would, even if it wasn’t what he wanted, not exactly.
Life could go on without Kristian loving me. It could. It could.
I curled into a ball on my side, as if that would make my insides stop screaming for Kristian. My head pounded with the need to sleep. I couldn’t.
When the first gray softened the black of the sky, I crawled out of the sleeping roll, packing it away quickly, doing my best not to miss the scent of Kristian. How long would it take for the scent to fade? Would that be better? Maybe I’d sleep better that way, but would the loss be worth it? During the deepest hours of the night, I’d almost been able to imagine that he was with me, sleeping too silent for me to hear. I’d even felt the faintest hint of warmth when I’d come close to drifting off. That had woken me. And thus the night had passed.
Rune blinked reproachfully at me as I replaced his saddle. He was not a horse accustomed to journeys, and I felt awful about forcing him to travel so much more than he was used to, and this was only the beginning. But then again, I was not a girl accustomed to journeys either.
Rune had nothing to do with losing Kristian, I reminded myself. Still, he had to pay the price.
Feeling guilty about it won’t undo it. Climb on and go.
I did. I rode Rune as hard as I dared, getting off and walking when white foam started gathering around his mouth. There was something that felt a lot like an itch inside me, something that flared up whenever I slowed and consumed when I stopped. It drove me as hard as I drove Rune. There would be no turning around. It didn’t even feel like turning around was an option that I could entertain, physically or mentally, my mind, my very body, refusing to so much as consider it.
So I rode on. I couldn’t remember what day it was, how long I’d been going. I knew I should have kept track, but I also knew that no pace other than brutal would get me there in time.
Which meant I felt like death when my parents scried me. Lucky for them, I happened to have stopped near a frozen pond, having cracked one side to let Rune drink.
“Helena Nordskov, where on earth are you?” Mother asked the second I answered their request, staring at the pond that burst to life with my parents’ faces. The amount of energy they had to be using to cast the scrying spell was absurd.
“Tryllejor,” I answered, though they likely knew that. I hadn’t consciously noticed my tracking diamond buzzing in the skin of my arm, but now that I was attending to it the flesh around the diamond was sore from being tracked. “Did you talk to Magdalena?”
“No. The week is over, you were supposed to return to the country estate,” Father explained.
“Ah. Well, I did return. I just left again.” Obviously.
Mother’s eyebrows rose. “And you’re now traipsing in the wilderness—why?”
My eyes narrowed. “Oh, because it would have been completely fine to just let Kristian go off and marry someone he didn’t want to marry and sit at home doing nothing.” Head pounding, I had little patience.
Now Mother’s eyes widened. “You’re . . . trying to get to Sikuvok?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Helena, you’ll never get there in time,” Father said, soft and sympathetic. I was filled for an arresting moment with longing to see him, though it had only been a few days. But Kristian had to come first. Kristian had no one else to save him.
“Yes I will,” I insisted without much heat.
“What good will it do Prince Kristian if you die of exposure in the northern reaches of Tryllejor?” Mother asked, genuinely worried.
I wished I could reach out and put my hand over hers. Father did it for me, the good man. “I have no intentions of dying.” Only of almost dying, since the mystery woman Magdalena had heard rumors about apparently only appeared to people in that state. They didn’t need to know that.
“Do you . . . wish to marry Prince Kristian yourself?” Father asked.
My face would’ve burned if it wasn’t completely numb. “Um. Yes. But it’s not as if we’re betrothed, seeing as he’s currently engaged to marry Princess Niviaq.”
Father’s face took on a faint flush for me. “Oh. Well, he certainly is a skilled magic-worker.”
I had no reply for that. “I know. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Go. You can’t afford the energy for this spell.”
Both of my parents looked highly concerned, but every second we spoke was more energy wasted. “We love you, Helena,” Father said, eyebrows drawn.
“I know,” I said again. “I love you too.” And after one last regretful look from my parents, I was alone again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kristian
It was a dangerous game I played with myself. How far would loyalty take me?
Queen Qila sat on my right hand. Her jet black hair was a darker shade than her daughter’s, and it seemed rougher, less tamed, as did the rest of her. Her face was broad and strong, daring in its beauty, eyes slanted and eyebrows slashes above them, nose slicing down her face in a perfect straight line, mouth always ready with a sharp smile.
I had decided she was most like a wild animal, fierce and cunning but not evil. She did not care much for people’s lives. She talked ceaselessly of the greatness of the country of Sikuvok and the people, as a whole. Individual lives were nothing but pawns to her.
This evening’s conversation was an example.
“I am pleased you were finally able to
join us for dinner,” Queen Qila said, her voice as strong as the rest of her.
I had avoided social gatherings as well as I could, going out with the patrol to protect the cities against the monsters that roamed free in this country as I had during my previous stays at Sikuvok. Niviaq had joined me a few times, and as she had before, she proved herself an accomplished warrior. She’d discovered my shifting mask she’d made for me had been left behind in Tryllejor along with the rest of my possessions, and had taken a few days off patrolling to make me a new one. She’d finished it that afternoon and presented it to me, pressing it into my hands and tiptoeing straight into my mouth. I let her steal the kiss without moving, without making a sound. It was the best I could do. Duty could not ask more, not yet. That’s what I told myself.
“Prince Kristian is feeling more at ease here,” Niviaq said, a flirtatious smile shot my way.
Feeling so at ease that I could not sleep without drinking a potent sleeping potion I’d made myself. I never would have thought I’d do something like that, but I couldn’t bear hearing Lena’s voice every time I began to sleep. Duty failed me when it came to erasing her from every dream I had.
“He is still not as at ease as that Vansen lord was,” Queen Qila pointed out bluntly.
Something shifted in Niviaq’s face. “Espen Kjeldsen.” Espen and Niviaq, kissing, turning to me with twin looks of annoyance at discovery, flashed into my mind. It was an image that had burned my pride for months. Only Lena had made it fade away, but now it was back to plague me.
Qila waved her hand dismissively. “He was foolish, in the end.”
Niviaq’s usually mobile face, free with winks and grins and pouts, was stony. “He gave his life to protect others.” I had suspected that Niviaq’s feelings for Espen ran much deeper than her feelings ever had for me, and found myself oddly gratified to learn I was right. At least it hadn’t been a mere flirtation with Espen that had beat me out.
“He should have saved himself. His skills could have protected many more people than those guards. If he had any sense he would have let them die, none of them were as gifted as he was.” There was not a hint of apology in Qila’s voice, not much emotion except anger, as if Espen’s selflessness was a personal offense to her. “At least we know Prince Kristian would not do something so foolish.”
That struck me like a fist. “What does that mean?” I asked, my voice low, feeling dangerous.
Qila’s smile was sharp as a blade. “You look out for yourself. You know when to cut your losses and run. You make sacrifices when they need to be made.”
Something black boiled in me, another haunting memory rising—my father, giving his life to let me go free. A sacrifice I needed to make?
Fortunately, Qila did not know the details of that day. She chose a different arrow to fire at me. “The girl was in love with you, wasn’t she? That fool Espen would have tried to escape and go back to her, putting his country at risk. You saw that one girl’s feelings were less important than your country. But you are not so malleable as to do everything you are told. I know that you did not always follow King Eirik’s orders. You are cunning.”
I hated that she made me feel like I’d made the wrong decision by leaving Lena. I hadn’t even had a choice—the Binding had been made long before I’d gotten to know her.
Still. I hadn’t left Sikuvok. I hadn’t so much as made an attempt to contact her.
It would be foolish to do so, reckless and selfish, a use of energy I couldn’t afford, an act that could be read as a betrayal by Queen Qila. Lena thought she loved me, but she hardly knew me.
That lie didn’t last a second in my mind, even though it was true in a sense. She didn’t know my past, my stories, my childhood, my family, my country. She just knew me better than anyone else alive.
Cunning. Qila called me cunning. All I felt was lost.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lena
I rode Rune high into the mountains, winds howling at us, going straight through all my protective layers to chill my skin until it felt like ice. I had to remember to enchant my gloves to give my hands extra warmth. It took energy and effort, but that way I could sleep at night.
I was never fully awake during the day, the world blurring around me, my head throbbing, my body weak. Rune carried me forward, going at the fastest pace I dared push him to. That was all I could remember to do. When we stopped, I brushed him down in a daze and only remembered to get my bedroll out because the cold would have killed me if I didn’t, or at least Kristian said it would. My sleep was dreamless and dark and always far too short.
The smell of Kristian was fading from the roll. Every night, it was harder and harder to detect, and I felt like the distance between us grew as I lost this last grip on him.
Then one night, when wind was screaming around us, throwing shards of snow to bite my skin, I couldn’t smell anything.
“No,” I said, sniffing like a wild animal, trying to find anything. “No. No, no, no, no, no.” It was like I was losing Kristian all over again. That night I did not sleep dreamlessly. I restlessly slid in and out of sleep, the dreams that haunted me terrifying in their simplicity. The world was gray, and I was alone.
The next day, Rune stumbled.
Magdalena had said it was too far. A myth, a legend. That I probably wouldn’t make it. I should have known I was pushing Rune to go too fast. But we were finally descending the mountain, and though the sky stormed harder on us than ever, I’d urged him to go faster, faster, down our uncertain path.
One moment, we were running. The next, I was crashing into the deep snow, which was too frozen and sharp to soften my impact. I screamed, pain radiating through my whole body. I moved and my left arm was on fire, making my whole body go stiff and another scream ripped through me. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe.
After I held still for who knew how long, I heard my horse whinnying for me.
“No,” I breathed, because I knew what his crying meant. “I can’t . . .” Holding my left arm as still as I could, I struggled to my feet. The pain knocked me back down once, twice, but the third time I managed to stand. I stumbled toward Rune, lying on his side, heaving. “Oh, Rune,” I sobbed. His left foreleg was bent wrong. Broken. “No,” I whimpered, tears streaming down my face. I knew the truth right away, however hard my mind shied away from it.
Moving carefully because of my arm, I sat next to him, crying recklessly. How could I bear this? My horse. My Rune. My last real connection to home—to my life as it had been before. It seemed so stupid that his broken leg would prove his death and my broken arm would only inconvenience me. It wasn’t fair.
I was shaking, my whole body shaking. Why was I so alone? Human beings weren’t meant to be alone like this, without anyone or anything.
Why had no one ever taught me how to heal? In all our magic studies, learning stupid things like bringing plants back to life and making them grow straight, Kristian had only ever taught me to heal minor burns. It was meaningless.
I moved around to Rune’s head, kissing his nose, trying to erase the panic from his enormous dark eyes while ignoring the burning pain in my arm. “I’m so sorry, Rune, I’m so sorry, baby, it’s not your fault, it’s my fault, I’m so sorry,” I said in a broken stream, my words as meaningless as the mist my breath made in the air. Rune couldn’t understand this. I was only delaying my pain. Rune’s release.
I couldn’t just leave him. We’d heard wolves howling in the night, wolves kept away by my wards and the extra wards Magdalena had given me. They wouldn’t let Rune die peacefully. He’d be so scared if I left him alone as I walked on.
I had never killed a horse before. I’d never killed anything anywhere near Rune’s size. I didn’t know how to do it. With my knife? Stab my horse until he died? I couldn’t.
I had to. I had no other weapons.
Except magic . . . I knew Kristian would be angry at me for expending so much energy on killing Rune. I couldn’t heal him. Maybe if Krist
ian had been with us he could have healed Rune.
I could kill him. I could. I had to.
If I could—it killed me, pieces of me that I couldn’t afford to lose, to think it—freeze his heart, that would be peaceful, wouldn’t it? I’d always been told that sleeping in the cold led to dying in your sleep. That couldn’t be the worst way to go, could it?
I’d never frozen anything larger than a cup of water.
First, using my whole arm awkwardly, miserably, I stroked and comforted Rune until he closed his eyes. I was soaked through from kneeling in the snow, parts of my clothes stiff with re-frozen water. It didn’t matter.
“Um,” I choked out. “I need to . . . freeze . . . this horse’s blood.” I’d used saxifrage when I’d frozen water before, but I had no saxifrage here. Instead, I got handfuls of snow, removing my gloves so I could work magic, and started rubbing them over Rune. “Let this cold seep into his body. Let it slow his heartbeat. Let him be at peace and let this snow kill him painlessly.” I repeated the words over and over, rubbing snow across Rune as I did so.
I knew the moment he was gone. He’d been still for a while before that. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did.
The things I felt then were nameless, horrific, dark, consuming. Feelings like that should kill a person. Death would have been easier than letting them run their course through my exhausted, weak body. Still, I set my arm like I remembered the healers doing when I’d broken it ten years ago, not caring if I did it wrong, taking the pain as a rightful reward for what I’d done, too small a reward, too small a price, and stood.
I refused to let myself look back at my Rune. I’d piled snow on top of him, trying to hide him from the wolves and other beasts that roamed the land. Still, if I’d looked back I would have seen that lump of snow and known it was my loyal horse, who’d crossed half of Luspe for me. Who I had killed. I couldn’t tell myself it had been out of necessity. I’d killed him by pushing him too fast down the mountain. I knew the risk of a horse stumbling very well, and I’d still done it.