Heart of Ice (The Snow Queen #1)(20)

“No, I mean it. I think the Dishonorable Knaves could rob a king if you worked with ’em,” Phile said, following the trail of light footprints Rakel left. “Do you mind if I join you? I could always use practice tossing daggers at moving targets.”

She is mad. Who would willingly wish to be subjected to magic? “I fear I have just finished,” Rakel lied.

Phile sighed and leaned against the life-sized horse snow sculpture Rakel had made as her warm-up. “That’s too bad. It’s a pretty thing to watch you work.”

Rakel furrowed her brow in disbelief.

“It is,” Phile insisted. “It’s like a leaping deer—no, that doesn’t properly describe your abilities. Hmm…seeing you work your magic is like, like watching a wolf sing. That’s what you are, a little wolf!”

“I suppose it is appropriate,” Rakel said. “Wolves are creatures to be feared.”

Phile rolled her eyes and set her gloved hands on her hips. “You are too dreary. Has anyone told you that? Why do you cast yourself and your magic in such an ill light?”

“Because society has placed us there.”

“Society is a horrible source,” Phile snorted. “Besides, it seems so natural when you wield it. What does it feel like?”

Rakel blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“What does it feel like to wield magic?” Phile tested the sturdiness of the snow horse and then wriggled on its back so she rode it. She leaned over its neck and propped her chin up on her arms. “You’re the first magic user I’ve officially met—though I observed a bunch of those stuffy Chosen officers. So, what is it like?” She wore an open, earnest expression, and her dark-colored eyes were bright with curiosity.

I…I think she really wants to know.

Rakel crouched down and picked up a scoopful of snow with her bare hands. She let it trickle through her fingers as she thought. “I suspect the feel of the magic is unique to each individual. Mine is cold and crisp. It can be sharp when I need it to…and occasionally overwhelming.”

“Like ice and snow. That would make sense. Is that all you feel when you handle magic?” Phile asked, inching forward on the snow horse.

“No, it’s only the flavor of the magic. Handling magic itself…you’re aware of something you shouldn’t have, but you do. When I draw upon it, it’s like a wild animal that grows tame because it sees me. It knows my secrets, wishes, and fears…and it allows me to move and wield it as I will. It’s like a hundred feathers brushing every part of me, but it also is like a thousand fangs, waiting to descend.”

“It sounds much more personal than I imagined,” Phile said. “I thought it was something you just used—like your eyes or your sense of smell.”

“No. My magic is always there, but it’s not so integrated. It can calm and reassure me. My sense of smell can’t do that.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Phile said, her words edged with wistfulness.

Most times, I think it is.

“As stuffy as the Chosen are—the name, it’s so awful!—they have a point,” Phile continued. “Those with magic really are gifted.”

Rakel snorted before she realized she was doing so.

“I mean it—or everyone would have magic. It’s an opportunity given to a few, to see how they will use it,” Phile said. “I’m glad that you love your magic so much. That is what makes you so good at it, and so powerful.”

“I do not love my magic,” Rakel forced the words from her mouth, though they tasted of lies. I cannot let the truth be known, or I’ll be feared even more!

“Right. In any case, I thank you for your honest answer,” Phile said, sliding off the horse. “Are you all finished practicing? Because I won’t lie, since I don’t have magic, fighting with yours is about the closest I’ll come. And I suspect it will be a pretty good substitute. So, could we spar?”

Rakel checked her braid again just to give her something to do to cover her shock. “Why do you wish for magic?”

“Because I see beauty and the possibility to love others, where the rest of the dunder-heads on this continent are blinded by their ignorance.” The Robber Maiden smiled with her whole being, making her hair and skin glow with the power of her feelings.

“Very well,” Rakel said, giving in. “You said you wanted to practice on a moving target, yes?”

“Yes! This is so great—we’ll have bonding time every morning during our sparring sessions!”

“I beg your—every morning?”

“Don’t think I didn’t figure out how you creep away and practice in secret. If we’re going to face the Chosen together, I’ll have to get used to working with your magic.”

“I did not agree to a daily practice session,” Rakel said stiffly.

“Oh, soften up. We’re friends! That’s what friends do in times of war—or when they’re training to rob a king.”

“I am not going to rob a king!”

“That’s fine, as long as you practice daily with me.”

Rakel was filled with the mad desire to reach out and strangle the frustrating thief. Phile, as if she knew her thoughts, gave her a sly smile and winked. “We’re going to have such a beautiful relationship, Little Wolf.”