by Jessica Daw
Lena whispered the spell to remove the enchanted wax in Nyputian, the end of her finger glowing faintly as she traced over the wax and it melted away.
The task was brief. It ended, and her gaze snapped up to mine.
“This is absurd.” Queen Qila’s voice rang out, even more commanding than her daughter’s. “Princess Niviaq will never have need to remove wax from your shirt. The test is invalid and not in line with the spirit of the tradition.”
Before any of us spoke, another set of footsteps made its way up the long aisle. A cowl hid his face until he was at the front of the cathedral, where he stopped, removing his hood.
Niviaq’s gasp astonished me. Before that moment I had not believed that Niviaq was in love with Espen Kjeldsen. Her chest was suddenly rising and falling rapidly, her hands shaking, and tears formed on her lashes. “Espen?” she asked, and the word was without any varnish, any affectation, a question, sincere and fearful and desperate.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered in Sikken, just as sincere.
“How are you alive? And why are you here?” Queen Qila asked, caught between anger and confusion.
“The answer to your first question is a long story, Your Majesty,” Espen replied. “But as to the second—I am here because I wish to seek your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“This is a wedding ceremony,” Qila hissed.
“I am aware.” He turned to Niviaq, whose face was tracked with tears. I had never thought I’d see Niviaq cry. “I’m so sorry I left you. I’m sorry that I fell in love with you when I couldn’t marry you. But if you’ll free Kristian from his engagement to you, he will marry Helena and make her a better husband than I would have been. And I will marry you, and you will own my heart, and I swear to protect your country to my dying breath.”
That surprised me too. I had not realized that Niviaq cared about her country, but suddenly, many things she had said and done fell into place.
Niviaq nodded, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. She turned to Qila. “Mother. Let me marry Espen.”
I had never seen Qila torn. She was typically so straightforward, so bullheaded in doing exactly what she wished to do. And now? I saw that bullheadedness warring with love for her daughter, and reason as well.
“He knows Sikuvok and her people far better than I. He would be a much better king than I, and a much better husband. He loves her. I do not.” The words were not well-calculated, and Eirik would have said them better, but I hoped they would help Qila make the decision.
Lena took my hand, and I glanced down at her. Her expression was one of confusion. I’d forgotten she did not speak Sikken. She’d have to wait a moment longer. I turned my attention back to Qila.
“Please, Mother,” Niviaq whispered.
“You should have talked to me in a reasonable fashion, at a reasonable time,” Qila grumbled. Then . . . “Fine.” She turned to the priest. “Marry then,” she said, gesturing to Niviaq and Espen. They moved together as if gravity had changed from the earth to each other, embracing each other with all their strength.
Qila turned to Lena and I. “And you two, have the grace to leave without delay. I don’t wish to see your faces again.”
I nodded, and walked with as much dignity as I could muster while hurrying out of the cathedral, Lena in tow behind me, feeling like the absentee sun was rising in my chest.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lena
I hadn’t understood a single word of the exchange in the cathedral, but that did not stop me from smiling victoriously as I followed Kristian into the weak Sikken sunlight.
The moment the door closed behind us, Kristian grabbed me to him, lifting me from the snow, and kissed me fervently. He stole my breath away, and it was the loveliest sensation I’d ever felt. Too soon the kiss ended, and he simply embraced me, not putting me down.
“I assume this means we won,” I whispered in his ear.
I could feel his smile against my neck, and it was glorious. Even the gray skies and bitter cold and endless snow could not make me feel less exultant. We’d done it. “You assume correctly.” He briefly outlined what had happened, and it took all my self-control not to crow victoriously.
“Should we return to the castle and gather your things?” I asked when he finished.
“Yes.” Instead of setting me down, he swung me so my knees folded over one arm, my back supported by the other, my head resting on his chest. I giggled, a free, girlish sound, my heart lighter than it had felt in weeks, if not months or years. I could hear Kristian’s heartbeat through his red-and-white wedding clothes. That was a sound I wanted to hear for the rest of my life.
The castle was not as abandoned as I would have expected, guards still patrolling the entrances. I was eager to escape Sikuvok and the restless unhappiness there.
We were met with no resistance as Kristian carried me through the maze-like castle, which did not seem as foreboding as it had before. Not friendly by any stretch of the imagination, but not quite as terrible. I doubted then that anything could be terrible with Kristian by my side. Or holding me.
Only once we reached his room did Kristian set me on my feet, kissing me as if it was a necessary part of the process, and then going about gathering his things. I was captivated by him, watching him move, watching his face change, catching his smile every time he looked at me.
Captivated enough that he was ready to go when it occurred to me to ask, “How are we going to get home?”
“Ah. I forgot to ask. Do you mind if we use your last egg? Or did you want to save it?”
I was reluctant to part with Ruth’s last egg, but we had to get home.
Once we reached the docks, I opened the egg, praying fervently as I’d ever prayed that it wouldn’t decide we needed something besides a ship.
My prayer was answered. A ship sprung to life in front of us.
The ship had a long, sleek white body, reminiscent of an icicle. It was not very large—for a moment I feared Kristian would not fit, but it was larger than that. It had a tail protruding from its end, pointed and perpendicular to the water, like a bee’s stinger. I couldn’t imagine the amount of energy it had, how much energy had been in Ruth’s egg; it thrummed with it.
What was really remarkable, though, were the enormous wings stretching from either side. They seemed to be made of leather stretched over a lightweight wooden frame, feathers attached to the ends.
“Does it . . . ?” I began, trailing off, feeling foolish.
A rather wicked grin lit Kristian’s face. “Fly? It would appear so.”
My grin felt like a twin to his. “Excellent.”
It took both of us to get the ship into motion, sailing until we were far enough away from land that we wouldn’t be seen. Then . . . we took off.
The wings pumped like a bird’s wings, rapid for takeoff, then still to let us glide not too far from the mobile surface of the ocean.
The sensation of flying was fantastic, and it was much steadier than riding the wings. Still, more interesting to me was Kristian. For the first portion of our flight, we weren’t exactly speaking. To the point where I had to pull away gasping and remind Kristian, “We are not married yet, sir!”
Those gray eyes almost made me forget that and carry on anyway, but I would never be able to face my mother again if I did that, so I held my ground.
“I must insist on marrying you as soon as we reach Sterkhjem,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice again shaking my self-control.
I sighed, sliding to sit against the wall of the ship. Kristian had covered the ship with a clear membrane after taking off, which thankfully kept us from being pelted with spray as I had been with the winds. I closed my eyes—I was certain I would not be able to say what I needed to say if I could see his face. “You know I would love nothing more, but I think there is a wiser way to go about it.”
“What do you mean?” he asked sharply.
I opened my eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll be mar
ried, and soon. But I think you’ve forgotten that I’m a disgraced princess and my time for proving myself is running out.”
“What’s your plan?”
“It’s simple enough. We visit the offended suitors who came with you, show off how good I am at magic and how diplomatic we can be and our engagement, because everyone loves you and will want you to be king. We invite them all to the wedding, and then have the wedding in Edeleste.”
“Is that what you want?” he asked.
My eyebrows drew together. “What’s the alternative?”
“We could return to the castle. Live there.” He wasn’t meeting my eyes, playing with the fringe at the end of his wedding shirt.
“Is that what you want?” It had never occurred to me that Kristian would not want to rule Vansland. I was surprised and a bit disappointed, but I loved him. I was going to be his wife, and if he did not want to rule Vansland, I would have to let that go. It hurt to think that, hurt to think of leaving August in charge—though, no, I couldn’t allow that. I’d have to think of some alternative, somehow preventing him from taking the throne without revealing the truth I knew. I did not know who would ascend to the throne in that case.
He took a deep breath. “I am afraid of becoming my father,” he admitted quietly.
I scooted over to sit next to him, taking his hand. “What was he like?”
“Violent. Uncontrollable. He was not a monster, but . . . being king was difficult for him. He couldn’t tolerate his own mistakes, so he’d spend all his effort justifying them. He claimed to love my mother more than anything, and sometimes it seemed he did, but other times . . . he never listened to her, he did not respect her opinion. She died because he offended the king of Nyput and she went to try and make amends. She was set upon in the forest by rebel forces, and they killed her in cold blood.
“My father was furious and demanded recompense at the hands of the king of Nyput. Without heeding any of the attempts the king made to make it right, my father declared war on Nyput. Thousands of people died in that war, my father included, leaving Eirik to finish the war and become king.
“He . . . died saving me. Because I was doing something stupid and impulsive and disobedient, like he always did. After Mother died, he couldn’t look at me. I inherited her unusual coloring—white-blond hair and gray eyes. But he died for me, when I was being as selfish as I hated him for being.” Kristian took a deep, shuddering breath. He had not met his eyes while he told his story, training his gaze on our linked hands.
Kristian was so unlike the man he described that it made me angry he even thought he could ever become like his father. I moved, kneeling in front of him, taking his face between my hands. “That is not you.”
“Lena, you don’t know how hard it is for me to keep my temper,” he confessed miserably.
“Yes I do,” I corrected, shaking his head once for emphasis. “I know you chose me specifically because I’m a brat, and you never once harmed me, or lost your temper with me. Anyone else would have. You did not. Maybe it’s hard for you, but you’ve made that weakness into a strength. That doesn’t mean you have to be king. I love you and I’ll respect your decision and I’ll stay with you, whether it’s in our castle in Tryllejor or in the palace in Edeleste or wherever else. Understand?”
Words didn’t come, though he opened his mouth as if to speak. Instead, he nodded, putting his hands over mine.
“I love you,” I repeated, slipping my arms around his neck and holding him tight. I had never thought of my isbjørn as weak, my Kristian as weak, but now I saw how strong he was, and loved him all the more for it.
“Do you think . . . will your father teach me how to be king?”
I smiled at how hesitant he sounded. “My father would love nothing more. We can learn together, because it’s not as if I know how to be queen.”
“I love you,” he replied.
The flight to Tryllejor ended too soon, though it was longer than my ride on the north wind had been. We docked our flying ship in the harbor near the fortress-castle in Sterkhjem.
Right before we left, I grabbed Kristian’s hand, stopping him. He turned around, giving me a questioning look.
I sighed. “I don’t want to share you with everyone else.”
That devious grin almost undid me, yet again. “We could get married today, you know.”
“My father would kill me.” I didn’t say how tempting it was, knowing how easily he could crack my resolve. “Let’s go.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, undoing the membrane over the ship and climbing onto the dock, securing the boat before reaching a hand back for me. He practically lifted me from the ship, though I still went through the motions of climbing out.
We walked the short distance to the castle hand-in-hand. His gaze was roaming over everything, taking it all in. It was still the depths of winter, but the sun shone here, glittering on the snow, making the castle-fortress seem a little less desolate.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Hmm? It’s strange.”
“Would you come here when we were at the castle? Those days you were gone?”
“Only once or twice. Even running, it still is a full day to travel here and back to the castle.”
I felt a pang at the thought of the castle. “Will we ever be able to go back there?” I asked.
He grinned. “I had a thought about that.”
His smile was infectious. “What?”
“A wedding trip.”
I wasn’t about to protest that one. But before I could answer, we were through the castle doors, and a man who could only be Kristian’s brother Eirik was walking up to meet us, eyes wide.
“Kristian, I am relieved,” he said, and he sounded like he really was. Kristian released my hand to embrace his brother. They were both tall, though Kristian was significantly broader than Eirik, and the difference in coloration made it difficult to see familiar resemblance, Eirik’s hair dark where Kristian’s was light. The facial hair they both wore, hiding their similar jawlines, didn’t help, especially since Eirik’s was a tidily shaped goatee and my Kristian’s was much less groomed. Rather like the beginnings of a bush.
“It’s good to see you, Eirik,” Kristian said.
“And you, alive and well and not the future king of Sikuvok, I gather.”
“Correct, thanks to Lena.”
They turned to face me, and Eirik smiled. “You did it, then. Made it, saved the day. Magdalena told me all about you.”
“Precisely,” Kristian answered, his smile much more intimate than Eirik’s. It was going to be a long few weeks, waiting for our wedding.
The time passed, though. We spent a few days at Sterkhjem, allowing the brothers to spend time together. Eirik gave both of us excellent advice on how to impress my former suitors. He also recommended scrying my parents, but I wanted to make a dramatic entrance, fiancé on arm, ex-suitors full of praise and support for my future queenship.
It didn’t take long to visit each of the six suitors. We left the winged ship behind, Eirik assuring us it would be safe in his harbor. Instead, we took a carriage. Admittedly, we spent precious little time in the carriage, preferring to run. Rather, Kristian ran as an isbjørn and I rode. I didn’t think I’d ever tire of that.
Most of the suitors took very well to the idea of Kristian and I reigning together. I was more gracious than I’d ever been in my whole life, curtseying and polite and full of pleases and thank-you’s. Kristian proved to be just as capable of diplomacy, when he chose to be. Really, though, what impressed them the most was when Kristian shifted and I showed them how I could control the wind. Everyone wants powerful allies, and Kristian and I, it turned out, were just that.
Shrewd Eyes was last. Upon arrival, however, we learned that he was very ill and his son was filling his position. His son, coincidentally, was one of Kristian’s friends from his roaming days. I was not at all sorry to miss seeing Shrewd Eyes.
Then it was on to Edeleste.
My parents had learned of my coming, as Kristian and I had taken care to hint that my former suitors would not be amiss to contact my parents and inform them of their support of me.
We were taken straight to Father and Mother by Flemming himself. Even his dull face was not completely free of admiration. I thought proudly that Kristian and I did make a rather striking couple.
To my surprise, the first words came not from Father, but Mother, who cried, “You’re safe!” and came to hug me. Father joined, and I blinked at Kristian over their shoulders, feeling overwhelmed. Of all the reunions I’d pictured, all of them triumphant and ending in me being reinstated, I’d never imagined them being so happy just to see me.
“I’m fine,” I said, the words coming out softer than I’d intended.
Mother pulled away, and I was shocked to see her eyes were wet. “King Eirik told us what happened, and so did Prince Espen,” she explained, delicately wiping her eyes with a clean white handkerchief. “You’ve grown so thin—they said you almost died?”
I was grateful they hadn’t seen me when I’d arrived at Sikuvok—I thought I’d nearly regained my former healthy weight, but Mother’s practiced eye knew better. “Uh . . . well, yes, but I’m fine now!”
“What would we have done if we’d lost you?” Father asked, and then they both hugged me again.
This time, instead of blinking in surprise, I was blinking back my own tears. I let the moment last, and then pulled back. “You’ve met Kristian. I love him. We’re getting married.”
Father smiled, making his warrior face look years younger. He stepped forward and shook Kristian’s hand. “Congratulations. This is not a girl to be convinced to do anything she doesn’t want to. Count yourself lucky.”
“I do, Your Majesty.”
“August will be upset,” Mother commented, looking mildly delighted by the gossip.
“Why?” Kristian asked, using his most polite voice. It almost made me laugh, but I resisted the urge.
“The suitors—former suitors, rather, all communicated to us their desire to see Kristian Bjørnes and Helena Nordskov as the next heirs of Vansland. Doubtless the rest of Luspe will feel similarly,” Father said in his practical way.