Heart of Ice (The Snow Queen #1)(40)

CHAPTER 11





PARANOIA CONFIRMED


When Rakel awoke, every part of her screamed with fear. She snapped her eyes open and sat up in bed—the blankets icing over in her terror.

“Rakel—it’s okay!”

Rakel ignored the assurance and threw up a shield, her breath feeling short in her panic as she blinked and tried to clear her vision.

“Little Wolf—listen to me!”

Finally recognizing Phile’s voice, Rakel paused, allowing herself to regain her bearings. She was in a darkened room, which she recognized as her encampment quarters. It possessed a bed, two packs containing her dresses, and a book on castle architecture she couldn’t bear to leave behind. The room also contained a chair swaddled in blankets, which—Rakel could see through the hazy distortion of her ice shell—held a frowning Phile.

“What happened?” Rakel asked, letting her shield crack and disintegrate.

“You fell unconscious.”

“What did the soldiers do?” Rakel asked, her voice tightly coiled. She was still in her dirty and torn dress, but her arm and side were wrapped and treated.

“They brought you back. Well, I lent my horse to Oskar so he could ride back with you sagged against him. I wanted to take you, but Captain Halvor told me I would have to give him Foedus because he didn’t trust me to ride with both you and it. I was having none of that, so Oskar got to bring you.”

“And the soldiers just let him? They didn’t riot?”

Phile’s forehead wrinkled. “Why, for the love of a king, would they riot?”

“Because we lost, and I injured some of them.”

Phile rolled her eyes. “Little Wolf, you are the most paranoid person I know—and I’m a thief. No one is going to turn on you because of a lost battle. In fact, I think it is unlikely that anyone from this camp will turn on you ever. They already call you their Snow Queen. If you declared yourself the Empress of the Continent, they would ask what you wanted on your coat of arms.”

Rakel shook her head. “You cannot fathom the distaste and fear they hold me in.”

“Distaste and fear? Have you lost your mind? You have saved them from destruction, slaughter, and slavery. They revere you like a saint, and their children want to be like you!”

“The children are a different matter. It is the adults who pose a threat.”

“And you have decided this because…?”

“Experience. Twice since I was first approached about saving Fyran, I would have been harmed if I hadn’t defended myself. Whenever they see my magic, they cower, and I can see the fear in their eyes.”

“Because you are scary when you use your magic! If you had more emotional expressions than a rock, it might be different, but you wear the same expression whether you are eating your meals or putting down that weather-boy. Who does that? I’ll tell you—no one but you and that Farrin Dimwit.”

“Graydim.”

“Sure. Look, you are icy calm no matter the circumstance. In some cases, it is good. You show no fear, so the people believe you can do anything—but it is also a little daunting. They don’t know whether they can joke and chat with you because you are so guarded in your emotions,” Phile leaned in, a scowl etched on her mischievous face. “So, of course they wouldn’t show how they revere you—they’re afraid of irritating you.”

“I see,” Rakel scoffed. “So that is why I must constantly be on guard for my life?”

“No…that’s just you, Little Wolf. No one in this camp would even think of harming you.”

“You can’t know that for sure—this is all conjecture.”

Phile snorted. “No, it’s not! I know because I talk to them. You—Your-Sensitive-Majesty—probably know all their names because you’re paranoid you’ll offend someone, but I know them because I interact with them.”

“You’re normal. They would have no qualms in associating with you.”

“Yet again we must revisit the fact that I am also a thief! If they don’t worry about associating with me—who might very well rob them blind—they will have no quarrel in chatting up the savior of their family, village, and country.”

Rakel didn’t believe Phile for a moment—friend or not—but she had revealed a disheartening fact. “I’m scary when I use my magic?”

Phile sighed and deflated. “That was mean of me to say. No, you aren’t. You’re just…intimidating.”

Rakel nodded.

“It’s just because you’re so expressionless. You like your magic, Rakel. You’ve told me so yourself. If you let a spark of your joy show, you would be a beauty to behold. But if you stay as tranquil as you usually act…it’s a little eerie that you can do so much without even a quirk of your eyebrow. It makes it seem like the fight, the places you regain, all of it doesn’t mean much to you.”

Phile offered Rakel a mug of warmed water. Rakel took it and drank.

“Just think it over,” Phile said. “I can understand why you don’t want to share your thoughts and emotions with the troops and villagers. King’s eyebrows, you were locked up for twelve years; it’s amazing you’re willing to help them at all! But, please, consider trusting them. Your fear that they will turn on you…it does nothing to aid you or the war.” She eased out of her wooden chair and strode for the door.