Heart of Ice (The Snow Queen #1)(32)

Captain Halvor scowled as he looked behind them. “Princess, I’m going to take us over a shallow ditch. When we get to that bridge, I want you to bail out and hide.”

“Won’t they expect that we’ve split up and search the forest?” Rakel asked as she nudged a drift to settle over their tracks.

“Even if they suspect it, they won’t search for a long time, giving you ample opportunity to get away. Besides, they won’t think you’ve separated as long as all three sleighs keep moving together.”

“Are things that bad?” Oskar asked.

“It’s bad enough that I won’t risk her getting caught,” Captain Halvor said.

“Why don’t we take a stand—or have the Princess cover our trail?”

“Because they’ll change tactics and track us through her magic.”

Rakel cut off all contact with her magic so quickly it made her fingers sting. “What?”

“We’re almost there. Prepare yourself, Princess.”

“But I—”

“You must do this, Princess.”

Rakel’s spine tingled with the knowledge that she had placed them all in danger. She wriggled so she hung over the side of the sleigh. “We need to talk about this, Captain.”

“If we make it, I will tell you what I know. Now!”

Rakel pushed herself over the side of the sleigh, clamping her teeth shut to hold in a yell. The sleigh was not high off the ground, and the ditch the bridge spanned was barely wider than Rakel was tall, but the fall was still a good drop. Rakel winced when she hit the ground harder than she had prepared herself for. She rolled under the bridge, swiping her cape behind her to cover her tracks—after Captain Halvor’s words, she dared not use her magic. She slid herself under the branches of a scrubby shrub and wrapped her cloak around herself, its gray color blending in with the pale shades of the forest.

Her teeth chattered and the ground shook as the Chosen soldiers thundered across the bridge. Their mounts’ tack jingled, and they whistled and called to one another.

When the bridge stopped shaking and the noise faded away, Rakel relaxed, but she didn’t move. She waited several seconds, then exhaled in relief.

I’m safe.

No sooner had the thought formed than a man slid off the bridge and landed inches from her hiding spot. “Princess Rakel, you are ill-suited for subterfuge.”

Farrin Graydim.

Rakel slipped out from under the bush and snapped her cloak, raising a fence of jagged shards of ice.

One moment Farrin stood beyond the fence. Rakel blinked, and he was on top of it and leaping down at her.

Yes, he has speed magic alright.

Rakel flicked her fingers, coating the ground with ice as she scurried backwards. Farrin took one misstep and turned it into a leap, tackling her so they tumbled to the ground.

“A fair try,” Farrin said.

Is that praise in his voice? Rattled by the thought, Rakel coughed when his long body pinned her to the ground. She shoved her palms at him.

Thick snow barreled at him, but he rolled away, evading it. In less than an instant, he tapped his magic and was back at Rakel’s side. He grasped her wrist and pulled her to her knees—not roughly, but quickly. He then crouched next to her and grabbed her other wrist.

Rakel breathed deeply and eyed him, forcing her shoulders up.

Farrin shifted, drawing a little closer so Rakel wasn’t yanked forward by his hold on her wrist. “Are you certain you are not interested in joining the Chosen?” he asked. The shattering of the silence made Rakel flinch.

“I would not align myself with the Chosen if it was my only chance at living,” she said, her chin rising.

“It may very well be. You’re strong, Your Highness, and you’re quite good with your magic, but you cannot hope to face an army of magic users.” Although his words were harsh, his slate-colored eyes were unexpectedly sympathetic.

She tried to pull away. “What do you know about my magic?” She yelped when Farrin further invaded her space so he could grasp both of her wrists with one hand.

“Quite a bit. Since you seem unwilling to kill anyone—friend or foe—I have received extensive reports.”

Rakel had to bite back a snort. He thinks I would show off my strongest magic? With all of those villagers and soldiers to see? How dense does he think I am?

“If you don’t want to join us, leave Verglas.” He held tight to her wrists, but he lowered them so they rested on his knee.

Rakel blinked. “What?”

“This land already belongs to the Chosen. You’re fighting the inevitable. Take what followers you have left and leave. With so many people—and with your royal blood—you will not be mistreated, in spite of your magic.” The planes of his face were smooth, and he spoke not with anger or aggression…but sincerity.

Rakel stared at him, confused by his freely given advice. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I would loathe to see you slain merely because you are an idealist.” Farrin boldly met her gaze. The white mark of his scar sliced across his face with stark clarity thanks to the bright moon.

“I am not—”

“You are,” Farrin said. His voice was as firm as rock, but not unkind. His eyes traced her features, like he was searching for something. “Leave Verglas. Try Farset, or Kozlovka if you must have snow.”