Heart of Ice (The Snow Queen #1)(26)

“Yep! And they know you,” Phile said, pointing to two small wooden carvings—a reindeer and a snowflake—that hung from the door frame on brightly colored ribbons.

“Of course they know me,” Rakel sighed as she drew closer. “I am the scary story parents use to manipulate their children into going to bed early and eating their vegetables.”

“Not these people, and not anymore.” Phile rapped on the door in an uneven pattern.

The door opened a crack, admitting a large eye and a bushy eyebrow. “Phile? That you?”

“Yngvarr, you scamp! Let me in; it’s horrid out here.”

“You are still as carefree as ever. Come in, come in!”

Phile stomped inside, and Rakel cautiously followed her, keeping the hood of her cape up.

“Sit down and pull up a chair,” their greeter, Yngvarr, said. He was a large, gruff man—broad chested and hairy. His chair creaked when he sat down with a thump.

Seated with him were a man and woman. The woman was well dressed and handsome, if not a little broad-faced. Their host’s other guest was an older, distinguished-looking gentleman who was long and thin like a crane, but boasted a deep smile and laughter wrinkles on his face.

“The gent on the right is Tryggvi. He is—was—Glowma’s constable. Pordis is the Glowma leader of the merchant guild. Friends, allow me to introduce the Robber Maiden—and her companion.”

Rakel stood in the shadows, but Phile thumped across the room like an old friend.

“Merchant guild? I like the sound of that.” Phile considered the title as she lowered herself into a chair. “The name’s Phile—and that’s my friend, Kel.”

Rakel raised her eyes to the rafters and allowed herself a small headshake at Phile’s terrible attempt to hide her name.

“Greetings,” Tryggvi—the city employee—said. His smile was tired and worn, but his eyes were kind. “What brings the famed Robber Maiden to Glowma?”

“Sight-seeing, of a sort,” Phile said.

Rakel listened to Phile’s response, but she mostly stood like a tree stump and studied the cheerfully lit house, eyeing the carved knickknacks, the winter gear—skis, snowshoes, and ice saws—and the few children’s toys that dotted the room.

“You’ve picked a poor time to do it,” Pordis snorted. “Everything is shut down—Chosen’s rules.”

“The Snow Queen will come,” Yngvarr said, drawing Rakel’s attention.

The who?

“I would not blame her if she did not.” Tryggvi tapped his fingers on his knobby knees. “But the truth is, if we don’t get the invaders thrown off us soon, we’ll start running out of food in a few weeks.”

“Why?” Phile frowned and propped her boots up on a footstool. “Did Glowma residents fail to prepare for the winter?”

“No, but the Chosen leadership is demanding a food tax.” Pordis scowled. “And even then, we might have lasted if they would let us leave the city to trap, hunt, and ice fish. But they insist we remain under full shut-down. I’m impressed you slipped past their guard.”

Phile removed her mittens and one of her scarves. “I’ll tell Princess Rakel of your plight. If she’s moved, she might come rescue you.”

Rakel stared at Phile. That cheeky, manipulative—I don’t need to be convinced that Glowma should be purged!

Their host stroked his bushy beard. “You really know her, then?”

“ ‘Course! I told you last time I visited that she was my dear companion.” Phile frowned and eyed him as she pulled Foedus out of thin air.

“Don’t you look at me like that, Silver-Step. If you did every little thing you claimed, you’d be a legend by now.”

“You mean to say I’m not?” Phile asked, sounding scandalized.

Rakel held in a wolfish grin, enjoying Phile’s outrage.

“You’re playing in a war-torn country whose only hope is a magic-wielding princess cast out of the royal family over a decade ago.” Pordis rubbed the beads strung to her shawl. “I don’t know if you could ever compete with such epic makings.”

Rakel clasped her hands together so she wouldn’t clap and point at Phile. The Robber Maiden’s face scrunched, like she had been forced to eat an entire barrel of pickled fish.

“Yah,” their host said, adding a log to the crackling fire. “These days, most folks hold the thought of the Snow Queen close to their hearts.”

“Who?” Rakel closed her mouth with an audible click, irritated that her curiosity popped the word out of her mouth.

“The Snow Queen, my dear.” Tryggvi’s thin smile grew gentle. “Haven’t you heard whispers of her?”

When it became apparent he was expecting a reply, Rakel said, “No.”

“She’s Verglas’s greatest tragedy and last hope: the Princess Rakel,” Pordis said.

It took Rakel several moments to grasp the answer. I’m the Snow Queen? While I’ve been worried about supposed allies sticking knives in my back, the country is giving me a pretty title? Reindeer antlers—I’ll never understand them! She held in a weary sigh. Once I free Glowma and they witness my powers, they won’t be even half as friendly or wistful. Oh well.

Phile grumbled. “She’s not that amazing.”