by Jessica Daw
It could have been minutes or hours later when the door opened again. My head whipped up, the sounds of other people overly loud to my quiet-accustomed ears. Guards were carrying Kristian? Half a dozen, to support his weight. Why were they carrying him? Why didn’t he walk? They didn’t notice me, talking to each other in an unfamiliar language, presumably Sikken, depositing Kristian’s unmistakable massive body on the bed.
I sat frozen until they left, then I flew to Kristian, climbing onto his bed to kneel by him, bending over him. “Kristian, it’s me, it’s Lena, I came,” I whispered breathlessly. I stroked his cheek, a smile flicking my lips up at the tidy white mustache and beard he wore. I couldn’t believe that I was seeing him, couldn’t believe I was here, touching him, in the flesh. My hallucinations hadn’t done him justice, all the perfect details missing, visible to my eyes despite being swallowed by shadows. Though . . . was he paler? And why wasn’t he waking up?
He hadn’t so much as twitched at my touch.
“Kristian? Kristian, wake up,” I said, tapping his cheek.
He breathed on, his breathing deep but uneven. Instinct told me it was unnatural sleep, but I ignored it, like I ignored the sick dread that was building in my chest. “Kristian, wake up, I’m here, I came, I found you in time and I have a plan and you have to wake up, you have to hear it, you have to tell me what you want, you have to wake up!” I pinched him and shook him and slapped him and shoved against his chest and cried and shouted and screamed and nothing . . . nothing . . . nothing . . .
Finally, I collapsed from fatigue and disappointment and the torment of seeing him and being so helpless, sobbing on his chest. What could I do? I’d left Ruth’s last egg with Espen in the ice cave. This wasn’t something I could run from, hide from. I was losing Kristian again in this cursed sleep and there was nothing more I could do.
I didn’t sleep. My mind had forgotten how to rest, relentlessly reminding me what I had lost. I was plagued with memories of Kristian as my isbjørn, all his expressions and sounds, the endless hours he’d spent teaching me when I’d been a hopeless case for so long, his worry when I’d crashed after flying, his sarcasm and irritation and laughter, his toothy isbjørn smile, that one stolen kiss . . . and losing him, then and now. My crushed hope felt like a tangible thing inside me, ice-cold shards of steel digging into my stomach and lungs and heart.
What if I couldn’t talk to him before the wedding? What if he spoke the words of the marriage Binding and was lost to me forever, lost to duty, lost to a country he’d never wanted to rule and a marriage he’d never wanted to have? What if I never knew if he loved me as much as I loved him? The endless questions were going to crush me.
No.
I refused to give up when there was still a chance. And until Kristian was married and bound permanently to Niviaq, there was still a chance. There was still hope.
Tomorrow, I told myself, falling into a fitful sleep on his isbjørn-size shoulder. Tomorrow I’ll get answers.
Chapter Thirty
Lena
I pressed a kiss to Kristian’s cheek, and then climbed out of the bed, grimacing at the dirty patch I’d left on the covers. Hopefully Niviaq wouldn’t notice.
The room felt cold, despite the layers I wore and the fire that still burned, offering little light. Only the slightest graying of the blackness in the room that hinted at morning, the reason I’d given up my spot next to Kristian. I doubted Niviaq would be quite so willing to let me back if she saw me there.
Thinking about returning made my stomach ache.
When the door opened, it was a servant who spoke not a word to me, not even looking the least bit surprised at my position, huddled on the floor near the door. He escorted me back outside of the castle, leaving me in the snow.
The very thought of seeing Espen made my already sore stomach flip, which reminded me that I couldn’t recall the last time I’d eaten. Food was with Espen. Espen would ask questions. He would want to know what my plan was. I would have to tell him what had happened. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, my whole body rejected the idea, but what choice did I have?
The path back to the cave wasn’t long.
“Where have you been?” Espen asked, grabbing my upper arms when I walked in, examining me to see if I was whole.
“I told you I’d come back,” I said, shrugging out of his hands. It was gratifying, though, to know he’d worried about me. I tried not to think about what would happen if Kristian didn’t want to marry me, but I knew it would likely mean marrying Espen. Perhaps he wouldn’t be the absolute worst husband ever. I still remembered Shrewd Eyes from a hundred years ago, the day of the suitor debacle.
“What have you been doing? Did you get caught?”
“No. Your beautiful and flirtatious princess took the dress in exchange for an audience with the prince, but the only time I could speak with him, as she claimed, was at night. However, he was carried in by servants and didn’t wake no matter what I did.”
“You met Niviaq?” he asked excitedly. “How is she?”
I growled, moving the two remaining dresses aside to dig through my pack and find what was left of the food Ruth had given me. I shoved it into my mouth, not tasting a thing, though that may have been due to the original flavorless nature of the food.
“Is she in love with Kristian?”
That made me pause. Swallowing, I sat flat on my rear and faced him. “Sit down, Espen.” He did so. “There is a possibility that at the end of this mess, you and I will return to Vansland and . . . get married. I am very motivated to prevent that, but my motivation may not be enough. If we get married, I will not turn a blind eye to bad behavior. I don’t expect you to either. If you ask me about how Niviaq is doing again, I will hit you as hard as I can, repeatedly. Fair?”
His expression was caught between irritation and embarrassment. “Fair. Uh . . . how is Kristian?”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t talk to him. He was asleep. As far as I can tell, he’s fine.”
“Right. Sorry. Well . . . it does seem a bit unfair that I’m not allowed to ask about Niviaq and you spent a night in the prince’s bedroom.”
So he’d caught that double standard. I felt unreasonable and tired and didn’t want to admit to anything.
But it had been thoughtlessness and selfishness that had led to this whole mess. I loved Kristian with my whole heart, and my impatience was very likely going to prevent me from ever speaking with him again. I wanted to be my best for his sake. I wanted to think twice, and do the hard thing. I had done the hard thing, physically and emotionally and mentally. Besides, I was keeping the truth about August’s creation of Espen’s tupilaq from Espen. I owed him something.
“Fine. Niviaq’s doing well, I guess. She didn’t talk to me, just took the dress and locked me in Kristian’s room.” A question rose, and I thought for a moment, trying to prove how worthy I was of Kristian’s love, if I had it. I decided the question was valid, and asked, “Why do you prefer Niviaq to me? Why didn’t you ever love me?”
He’d already more or less answered that question, but I didn’t know how much of what had been said came from anger and overheated emotions instead of the truth. “It’s not because you’re not beautiful,” he began, earning another eye-roll.
He sighed, slumping down and resting his head against the ice. “I’m sorry, Helena. I know who I am. Believe me, I’ve had more than enough time to think about it, on the run from the tupilaq for the past year and a half. You intimidated me—still do. I have never seen anyone else who’s as beautiful as you are, and you were so unpredictable. I knew you’d try to please me, but I never believed I could control you.
“Besides which, you’re so artless. I’m not like that. Niviaq isn’t either. When I was with you, I felt false and old and uncomfortable. With Niviaq, I felt understood, at ease.”
“I was fifteen,” I mumbled. “Of course you felt old.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I knew you saw me as a hero, but I’m not. I
dreaded the day when you’d find out I wasn’t as noble as you thought.”
“You did spend a year and a half fighting off a monster designed specifically to kill you. That’s pretty heroic.”
“Self-preservation.”
“Why are you being so honest?”
“You’re the first person I’ve talked to in a year and a half. You’re less intimidating when you’re dressed like that.”
That made me snort, and I leaned my head against the cave wall too, closing my eyes. “Would it be the worst thing in the world if we did get married?” The words made my heart clench. I kept my eyes closed.
“Probably not.”
“Mm. Let’s hope I get to talk to Kristian.”
It wasn’t much later when I left the cave again, after eating a bit more, all my stomach could tolerate. I carried the moon dress, a speck of silver in all the gray of Neria. I considered bringing Ruth’s last egg with me, but maybe last night had been a fluke. I didn’t want to use it rashly, when there was still a third night before the wedding, so I intentionally left it behind.
Despite being the capital of the vast, frozen nation of Sikuvok, Neria was little more than a collection of shack-like ice-block huts inside an ice wall. A few finer houses stood nearer the castle, but most of it was simple bordering on crude. The people I could see walked with purpose, surviving in the harsh climate, bundled in too many layers to be told apart, one from the other. Fortunately for me, the ice wall joined the castle at the sides, meaning the sides of the castle were accessible without having to enter the ice wall but could be walked to from the plains west of the castle, where Espen’s cave was.
I moved to the side of the castle where Niviaq’s window was. My desire to dance around with the dress was nonexistent, but I made a halfhearted effort.
Lucky for me, it wasn’t long before Niviaq’s head came out. “Will you sell that dress?”
Turning one last time, I faced her, and saw she wore the starry dress. It was even lovelier on her than I’d imagined, though I could only see her upper half. “Not for money,” I replied.
“You want to see the prince?”
“I do.”
Her head disappeared, and a moment later she came out the oak door. I made to go in, but she stopped me. “Are you her?”
I froze, looking down. “Who?”
“The Vansen princess. You’re here to try to steal Kristian from me, aren’t you?”
Eyes down, I said, “Why would I do that?”
“You already stole Espen from me.”
“His death was not my fault,” I said, then swore under my breath. I’d given myself away. I straightened my spine and looked straight into her eyes. “I swear, all I want to do is talk to Kristian. That’s all. Besides, you’ll not find another dress as lovely as this.”
Her dark eyes darted to the waterfall of silver fabric in my arms.
“It’s even prettier than the one you’re wearing now, and the one you’re wearing is quite eye-catching.” I felt unbelievably false. I couldn’t do it. “Besides, if Kristian loves you, then it won’t hurt anything if I talk to him.”
“He loves me,” she hissed, then snatched the dress from my arms. “Though I could see why you wouldn’t want to give him up—his kisses are divine, aren’t they?”
I felt my face go hot. “How would you say he compares to Espen?” I fired back, irked by the knowledge that I couldn’t answer that question. Kristian I’d kissed twice. Once, if you only counted times when he was awake for the whole thing. Espen, never.
“I don’t wish to speak of Espen.” She opened a door—Kristian’s.
Before she closed it, I caught the frame. “Do—did you love Espen?”
“What is it to you? He would have married you anyway.” I was shocked to see tears in her eyes.
In that moment, Princess Niviaq became human to me. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Not even Kristian?”
“No, not even Kristian,” I promised.
Eyes downcast, she nodded. “He understood me. He knew who I was, and still loved me.”
Good answer. I released the door. “Thank you for your honest,” I said quietly.
She didn’t reply, closing the door. I listened to her footsteps move away before taking a deep breath and facing the scene of last night’s torture.
It all felt like the world’s worst déjà vu. Everything played out precisely as it had the night before. I waited, restless, in the dark, the time immeasurable. Guards carried in Kristian’s enormous prone form, not sparing a glance for me. I hoped, despite myself. I tried to wake him. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
I even lit him on fire. That was different. But to no effect. His uneven breathing did not speed in the slightest.
By morning, I sat curled against the wall, voice gone, face tear streaked, hair wild.
I considered storming through the castle, finding Niviaq, demanding the dress back. This was no audience with Kristian, and, two nights in a row, Niviaq had to be aware that he did not wake. But what would that do? What would that help? Queen Qila would be furious, maybe declare war on Tryllejor or Vansland as punishment for my impertinence at invading her home without invitation and trying to ruin her daughter’s marriage.
The same blank-faced servant retrieved me and led me from the room. When we were almost outside, I asked, “Do you speak Vansen?” Then, switching languages, I asked, “Do you speak Trylle?”
“I speak Trylle,” he said, voice deep and gruff, accent making the words rounded and flowing.
“Do you know Prince Kristian?” I heard the desperation leaking through the words.
“I am his servant now.”
We reached the door, and he made to open it. I grabbed his arm. “Wait. I just have one question, please. I need to know—is he happy?”
His broad face was unreadable, dark almond eyes narrowed slightly, but whether from anger or confusion or annoyance or something else, I didn’t know. “It’s not my place to say,” he said at length, shaking my hand off and opening the door.
I wanted to push my luck, but he ushered me out the door with a hand on my back, closing it behind me.
Chapter Thirty-One
Kristian
I woke with a pounding head, feeling bruised and sore. I had been going on patrol again, making rounds in the frigid land surrounding Neria. Between fights with whatever creatures we met there and the strict exercise routines the guards put me through, it wasn’t remarkable to wake up sore. Still, I swore I had bruises I did not remember earning.
The pounding head I attributed to the sleeping potion I mixed with my wine every night at dinner. It wasn’t a faux pas in Sikuvok to pass out at the table after dinner—I wasn’t the only one who was regularly carried from the room. I didn’t like it, hated it, but I had to sleep and sleep eluded me if I tried to catch it any other way.
“Good morning, my lord.” My loyal servant Katu bowed, unreadable as always.
With a noise between a growl and a groan, I rolled from bed, stretching my cramped muscles as I did so.
“Will my lord be on the patrol today?” Katu asked.
“If Qila’ll allow it.” Katu was well aware of my hearty dislike for Queen Qila. Most were, by now. If I wasn’t mistaken, Qila liked me better for it. The woman was mad.
“She has requested you attend the wedding rehearsal today, and has scheduled your final fitting for your wedding clothes.”
Wedding, wedding, wedding. Another growl-groan escaped me. “Then no patrol today. Do I have time to join for the exercises?”
“Likely not, my lord.”
“Hmph. Don’t you have any good news for me, Katu, or would you perhaps like to inform me of my upcoming bath in acid?”
Katu’s lips twitched with amusement, but he otherwise maintained his calm demeanor. No, that wasn’t quite true. I saw his eyebrows flick together, a hint of a troubled look.
“Am I to take an acid bath?” I asked, watching him carefully. Katu was one of the
few people in this forsaken land that I trusted, though he was so retentive I probably shouldn’t have.
“It isn’t that, my lord.” A tiny sigh. “My lady Niviaq would not be pleased if I told you.”
“Told me what?”
“About the girl.”
“What girl? Katu, tell me. I’ll not tell Lady Niviaq I know.”
“It isn’t my place.” He said it, but his eyebrows twitched again.
“Katu. Tell me.” I used my authoritative voice, to remind him that I was as much a prince as Niviaq was a princess.
“I do not know who she is, but the last two nights she has exchanged a dress for an audience with you, and Niviaq has left her in your room. She screams all night long, in Vansen, trying to wake you. I escort her out in the morning, before you wake, as Niviaq instructs.”
Everything inside my chest turned to stone. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. I had fantasized, once or twice, about Lena gallivanting off after me and demanding Queen Qila release me from my contract, but it had been only in my most unguarded moments. The idea was absurd. Lena had been returned home safely. She had said she loved me—how could I forget?—but she was not the first to see my face and immediately claim she loved me.
Besides which, how could she have gotten here? Spells like Queen Qila had used to transport me here, using the life energy of a living being, had hundreds of laws preventing their use except in the most approved circumstances, besides only being known by royalty, and Lena didn’t know how to use that kind of magic regardless. Her parents would never have allowed it. It was impossible that she was here.