A Crown of Ice and Fury, page 23
part #1 of A Crowns of Magic Universe Series Series
“Stop them!” I shouted to the guards as the Valkyrja closed in around us, weapons up and ready. Unnecessary as it seemed like my twin and I had been forgotten.
The fae of Myrr probably didn’t care who sat on a throne so far in the north. Not now. Not ever. But they certainly cared that rebels who had once stolen or fought them lived in their city.
“He’s passed out!” a female cried.
I pivoted to find the rebel with the bulbous nose splayed out on the ground. The local faerie was still squeezing the air from his lungs.
The temperature around me plummeted as I targeted the attacker’s arms, extended towards the rebel. The frost covered the elemental’s hands first and ran up his forearms to his shoulders. With another push, it turned to ice.
The male screamed, and as I was attacking him, I felt the moment he released his air magic. The rebel on the ground gasped and began to suck down air.
“Stay away from him!” Thyra screamed. “If you even think about harming him again, we’ll freeze you from the inside out.”
The thug’s eyes were filled with tears from the pain. “Yes, Highnesses. I-I didn’t mean to take it so far.”
It had to be true, or he wouldn’t have been able to say such a thing, and though that was no excuse, in a way, I understood. My magic had gotten away from me more than once.
The air elemental ran off, leaving his victim on the ground and a giant mess in his wake.
“Halladora, Sigri, and Tonna, help separate the locals and rebels,” I commanded.
Astril positioned herself between us and the bulk of those fighting as our other three sworn shields rushed into the fray, which in a shockingly short amount of time had attracted at least twenty more locals, apparently just stewing for a fight. I scanned for another use of violent magic, but I saw only punches being thrown. As bad as that was, it was better than so many fae using magic against one another.
“They don’t seem to be letting up,” Thyra muttered after a minute or so.
Tonna, Sigri, and Halladora were imposing and doing their best to quell the violence, as were the buildings’ guards, but there were simply too many rebels. Too many locals who wanted them gone. Too much pent-up aggression and distrust.
“Should we . . .” I called my power, filled the air with a sparkle of frost that fell to the cobbles when I released.
“I’m not sure,” Thyra said. “I don’t want the locals to despise us but—” The next word died on her lips, and my twin paled.
“What?” I asked but got no answer. Got nothing but a massive shock when a shadow burst out of Thyra. “Fates!”
My sister jumped too, but when the shadow, distinctly in the shape of a faerie, stared at her, she nodded, as if innately understanding. “Save the kid. Stay hidden by the ground.”
The shadow soared away, leaving me with my mouth wide open. I followed its inky form and found what Thyra had already spotted. The brownie youngling we’d given cake to had been caught in the middle of the fighting. She was so small she’d been easy to overlook in the crush and was laying on the ground, passed out, the cake smashed next to her.
The shadow wove through the violence, morphing from faerie-form to a ribbon that glided along the ground like a snake. When it reached the brownie, the shadow figure wrapped around the youngling, still unnoticed by those fighting around her, and came back the way it went, along the ground, all the way to us.
“Let it pass,” Thyra said to Astril who looked as astonished as I felt. She knew we wielded shadow magic—had been there the day it was set free—but this, this was new.
We fell to our knees as the shadow joined us, unwrapped itself from the youngling and formed a body again.
“Leave.” Thyra gathered the brownie in her arms, and the shadow figure dissipated. “She’s breathing.”
“How did you know how to do that?” I asked.
We’d both created tendrils of shadows and were slowly gaining control over that form of magic. Still, we’d never made something so lifelike. So like how Sassa’s Blade produced shadows. How, now that I thought about it, King Érebo likely used his shadows.
“I’m not sure,” Thyra admitted, “but I called that magic to be useful and that’s what happened. Not sure I could do it again.”
“Do you think anyone saw?” I asked.
“Look at them.” Thyra nodded at the violence before us. “No one is even watching us. I’m fine.”
She was right. Had anyone seen a shadow figure, or even a stray tendril, they’d say something. At the very least, they’d be terrified, as most fae were scared of shadow magic. But nearly every fae in the area was still fighting, and those who were not had either sustained injuries or stood on the sidelines and shouted insults or encouragement. No one was paying us any attention.
The youngling opened her eyes, and that was our cue to stop talking. After making sure the girl was fine, we told her to sit safely in our carriage.
I shut the door behind the brownie and turned to my sister. “The soldiers and Valkyrja are not having the desired effect.” There were simply too many rebels and locals and too few soldiers to keep them contained when they were riled. We needed to help.
The temperature dipped as together we called our powers and sent a wave of magic over those fighting. We didn’t freeze the fae solid, but stopped just short of that, essentially making it impossible for them to move quickly.
The soldiers took advantage of the break in movement and pushed themselves between the two groups. Finally, when distance was established, Thyra and I moved to stand between the locals and rebels.
We released our hold, and a collective sigh rang up from those who had felt our magic.
“Terrifying.” A local glared at us.
“You know what’s terrifying?” I countered. “That you can do this to a fellow fae. That you so easily spill blood on your city streets when these people just want to survive.” I gestured to the rebels before shifting my arm to the other side. “And these people want assurances that their home is still their own. That they’re safe here.”
“You’re two sides of the same coin,” Thyra interjected. “And neither of you are enemies to the other.”
“One of them stole from my family greenhouse!” a local shouted. “My aunt and uncle went hungry for moons!”
“I’m not saying what the rebels always did was right.” Thyra held up her hands. “They, and I include myself among them, did what was necessary to survive, which I think most of you can relate to. And we all had to go to such lengths because we share a common enemy, a king who has made all of us suffer for more than twenty turns and never admitting that he was at fault. Never saying he did not have the Ice Scepter and that was why winter became so harsh.”
“That’s what Lord Balik said, but winter has been lifted,” someone in the crowd said, “at the king’s hand.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But can you trust someone who kept something so important from you? All because he didn’t want to appear weak?”
“Are you saying that when you lead,” a local female close by stepped forward, “whichever one of you sits on the throne, you’ll be open and honest with the people? I find that hard to believe.”
“I would like to. I think it would bring our kingdom closer, which, we can all see from what happened here, is needed.”
I recognized the hypocrisy of what I said, even as I firmly believed that what we were doing was right. Eventually, the people would know of our magic. In the future, we could and would be more open. Just not now.
“They’re good people.” A female rebel held up her hand. She had a baby strapped to her chest and stood safely off to the side. “Princess Isolde even made sure my babe and I were well after the birth. Had the healer look after me, she did. I doubt the king has ever done that for anyone besides maybe a few nobles.”
My cheeks warmed. Of course that was true, though not entirely for the reason the female believed. I’d been wondering about the blight.
“Lord Balik cares for us like that,” said a local whose face was spattered with blood. “Would be nice for a king to do the same. Or a queen.” He eyed me, then Thyra, and nodded.
“We will. We do,” Thyra said. “Our father didn’t have a good reputation when he went to the afterworld, but Isolde and I—we’ve led different lives than other nobles. We were raised more like you.”
Well, she had been. I’d grown up in entirely different circumstances, but I wasn’t going to stop her when she was on a roll.
“We want to make sure that this kingdom is a place where everyone can prosper.” Thyra waved her hand in the air to encompass the two sides standing on opposite sides of an invisible line. “Will you join us in making Winter’s Realm a better place? A kingdom we can all be safe and loved in?”
The applause said yes, but the looks tossed across the invisible line told me that it would still take some work for these groups to accept one another.
Chapter 28
ISOLDE
Thyra and I had been back at the castle for hours. In that time, I’d tried to create a shadow form like the one she had made. All my attempts failed. That, combined with Lord Balik’s absence and the fight we’d witnessed in the streets, had only served to drive my mood downward. So when a knock came at the door, I was not at all upset to be interrupted while practicing magic.
“Yes?” Thyra asked.
“Princess Saga and Lady Marit are here,” Freyia called from the hallway.
“Let them in,” Thyra replied.
Freyia opened the door wide, and I caught sight of her sister, Astril, standing guard alongside her.
“Hi!” Saga chirped as she swept into the room.
True to form, however, Saga had already hired a seamstress in the city to create gowns, and a few fighting ensembles. A brief glance told me that the seamstress did impeccable work. Another more thorough look made me smile. Hanging in Saga’s pocket was the outline of a small book. The princess was a prolific writer and kept all the court secrets in a notebook she called the Book of Fae. I wondered what she was writing about the southern city and my fledgling court.
I held back from asking, but made a note to have Saga invite her seamstress to Ramshold so that I might be measured, too. The Balik sisters were generous with their wardrobes, but I hadn’t spoken to them since the frost giant battle. I was sure their absence was because their father forbade it, and not because they wanted to stay away.
My friendship with the Baliks aside, sooner or later, I’d need an array of my own garments, anyway. Thyra would too. If we were to rule, we would need every weapon and shred of wisdom at our disposal. I, for one, counted clothing as a very effective weapon.
“Good afternoon,” Marit said more softly than the princess. “I brought a few snacks for moral support.” She held out a bag. “Chocolates. Not those gold dusted ones, but from a shop in town. Qildor took me and, believe me, they’re exquisite.”
“What a sweetheart that knight is!” I winked at Marit.
“Let me stop you there. Nothing has happened.” She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Until I’m no longer married, I think things will stay that way.”
“Fates, is he for real?” Thyra muttered.
“He’s too noble.” Saga perched on the edge of Thyra’s bed, earning her a slight frown from my twin. For once, though, Thyra held her tongue about outside clothing on the bed.
“Agreed.” Marit lifted the bag. “Anyways, do you have a platter?”
Thyra laughed. “No. We can eat them out of the box.”
Marit looked appalled.
Saga gestured to the Crown, sitting on Thyra’s bedside table. “Any luck?”
“I haven’t made much time,” I admitted.
“And I haven’t had a breakthrough, despite sleeping with it every night.” Thyra rubbed the back of her head. “Which, you can imagine, is about as comfortable as it sounds.”
“Well, you did return from a frost giant battle just days ago,” Saga said graciously. “And you quelled that squabble just earlier today.”
“Barely,” Thyra said. “They stopped throwing punches, but I could tell the locals weren’t fully convinced that the rebels were trustworthy.”
“You won’t change everyone’s mind in a day. But you probably planted a seed, and those can grow into the most beautiful things.” Marit reached into the bag and pulled out the box of chocolates. She set the blue box on the table between the chairs and took off the lid. The sweet smell filled the room. “As for the Crown, there’s no time like the present to have another go.”
Not at all in a hurry to use the Hallow, I smiled at my twin. “You first?”
Thyra took the Frør Crown in both hands and set it on her head. It struck me as lovely how well the Crown suited my sister. She was the picture of regal.
Thyra was stronger than me, with well-muscled arms and legs, and the scar that bisected her left eye gave her an air of grit. Add in that she was far more skilled with a bow and, like me, possessed powerful winter magic, and Thyra looked every bit a warrior queen.
My twin closed her eyes. By the measured way that she breathed, I could tell she was concentrating, trying to connect with the Crown.
I waited, hoping something would happen, but when Thyra’s jaw clenched, I feared we had reached another dead end.
She removed the Hallow from atop her head. “Nothing. Still nothing!”
Before she hurled it across the room, I took the Crown from her. “Perhaps it’s . . . still warming up?”
Thyra pursed her lips. “There’s nothing we can do to instigate visions, Saga?”
“Well, there is a potion,” the princess looked uneasy saying the words, “but it’s meant for experienced seers. I haven’t even tried it because it’s so potent. Dangerous for those unused to visions, and maybe you don’t know this, but visions can be dangerous in themselves.”
“Right.” Thyra let out a huff. “Give me a damned chocolate.”
Marit thrust a box at my sister, and Thyra devoured three chocolates before I got up the courage to raise the Crown to my head. The metal settled over my hair, braided today in an intricate style of overlapping braids. I released the cold metal and exhaled. Waited.
“Anything?” Saga asked, gaze alight.
I gave it a few more seconds before lifting the metal circlet from my head and tossing it on the bed. “Nothing.”
Thyra let out a sigh so full of relief that my irritation, so close to the surface after recent events, flared to life.
“I don’t think I’ll try again.”
“What?” Saga’s voice rose. “Why?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my sister doesn’t want the Crown to work for me again.” The pent-up frustration I’d been feeling laced my tone. Even though I didn’t like the Hallow I knew it was of great value. “Fates forbid it helps us through me.”
Thyra tossed her hands up in the air. “Am I so wrong for wanting something from our family to be mine and mine alone? The Crown has given you a vision, but not me, and I’m the one who should be most inclined to use it! The Blade chose you too.”
“You can use the Blade,” I countered.
And apparently make shadow forms, I did not add.
“Not as well as you.”
Something in me snapped. Although I’d been sure my sister had felt this way, we’d avoided the topic. Many topics, actually. Those issues, combined with the stress of recent events, made my stomach clench.
I marched towards the door and swung it open. Freyia and Astril stood before me, as still as stone.
“What’s wrong?” Astril asked lowly.
“I need space. Don’t follow me.”
“Isolde!” Thyra shouted. “Wait!”
I slammed the door shut and ran. Ran for distance, for air because with each second it seemed to come less freely. I rounded one corner, then another, ignoring the questioning looks from the servants as I dashed by. Thankfully, none of my friends roamed the corridors. No one tried to make me stop. No one seemed to register the tears that had fallen.
That luck held until I swung around my third blind corner and ran right into someone. Slipped.
A hand reached out to steady me, but the moment I was on my feet, it released me, as if I were poisonous. When I pulled my gaze up, I swallowed.
“Lord Balik.” My voice was raspy, my breathing irregular. “I apologize.”
The Warden of the South stared down at me, golden eyes hard, though I detected a bit of concern there. But when he nodded and swerved around me, leaving me there without a word, I thought I probably imagined that concern.
Fates, he hated me. Hated what was inside me.
My chest tightened, and my already shallow breathing worsened. I couldn’t get a lungful, couldn’t think straight. Only once had I experienced anything close to this—when Prince Gervais of the Blood Court had arrived in Frostveil with Anna at his side.
Hide. You’ve shown too much weakness as it is. A small, rational part of my mind spoke through all the garbled thoughts.
I had to look strong. Had to pull myself together.
I shoved open the nearest door and slammed it shut behind me. Hand to my chest, I went to a bed that was stripped of blankets. Nothing else in the room either. I’d stumbled upon one of the spare bedrooms. Doing my best to regulate my erratic breathing, I perched on the edge, pressed my palms into the feather mattress, and tilted my chin to the ceiling, only for the door to swing inward on a groan.
My head snapped up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
However, it wasn’t Thyra who stood in the doorway, but Lord Riis.
“I—won’t press,” he blurted. “But I wanted to make sure you weren’t injured. I saw you run into Lord Balik, then rush into this room. You appeared distressed.”
Clearly, because I hadn’t even seen Lord Riis, and he wasn’t exactly a pixie.
“I’m fi—fi—” a sob ripped up my chest.
Lord Riis inhaled. “You’re having a panic attack, Isolde. Like that one night.”
