Heart of Ice (The Snow Queen #1)(51)
She’s the tricky one, Rakel thought, her brow furrowing as she slammed her lovely ice shield into the girl. She shattered it with her elbow. Coming up with the plan to confront the girl had been the most difficult. If Rakel tried to imprison her in a cage—like the shapeshifter—she would, given enough time, be able to break out. The easiest route would be to beat her senseless, but such a brutal method didn’t appeal to Rakel, so after some deep discussion with Captain Halvor, Rakel had decided on an uncomfortable—but more humane—method of subduing her.
“Back up,” Rakel said to the soldiers. The Verglas troops took one look at her fingers—where snowflakes swirled and dazzled—and scrambled backwards.
The young girl laughed as ice started to encase her body. “That won’t work on me,” she said, cracking and shattering it as she moved in on Rakel.
Rakel allowed her to draw close, and then coated the girl’s body in ice that was as thick as a finger length. The girl rolled her eyes and stopped so she could flex her muscles and crack the ice.
The ice cracked, but as the girl had stopped moving, Rakel was able to snap an iceberg shut around her, encasing all but her head in a chunk of ice that was as big as the courtyard’s three-tiered fountain.
The girl squirmed, but the ice had conformed to her body like a mold with no wriggle room.
“I apologize. You’re going to get cold, but I do not expect the following battle to last long. So you will not experience hypothermia or frostbite,” Rakel said.
“What? That was not a fair fight! Stop—I want another go,” the girl shouted.
A soldier from Frodi’s squad saluted Rakel. “Well done, Princess. You were able to counter-attack so much better today!”
“Thank you,” Rakel said wryly as she stepped around the body of an unconscious Chosen soldier. “Though not having to fight off Farrin Graydim had more to do with it than practiced skill. Are we ready?”
“Just about. The courtyard and municipal building have been cleared of all enemy soldiers. You’ll be facing less than half their force, as some of the villagers took it upon themselves to help us. We’ve also heard whistles from all the squads. They will arrive in approximately two minutes.”
“And Frodi and the other magic users?”
“No problems reported.”
“Excellent. Thank you, soldier. You’d better join the others.”
“Yes, Princess.” He saluted and hurried towards the municipal building, scurrying behind it.
Rakel walked a circle—ignoring the cursing enemy magic users—and checked to see that Snorri’s promise of two smaller city gates within eyesight of the courtyard was correct. She tugged on her magic, smiling grimly. If a deep, uncontrollable sleep is the payment for my magic, today will almost certainly activate it. I hope Captain Halvor is wrong.
Rakel pulled her hair free from its braid, perking when she heard a handful of whistles that came from several different directions.
Here they come!
Verglas soldiers—dragging unarmored, Glowma citizens with them—sprinted out of alleyways, lanes, and roads. Chosen troops ran after them, snarling like animals as they hacked at them.
Rakel cut a precise—but small—line between the two groups with her typical spikes of ice—purposely leaving a few holes. The division gave the Verglas soldiers the space they needed. They increased the distance and fled to the municipal building, crowding around it.
Chosen troops flooded the courtyard, until it was a sea of black and crimson uniforms. Rakel waited until they were almost on the Verglas troops, then erected a wall as tall as the city walls in front of the municipal building. It was not as impressive as the wall she had built previously, but with Farrin distracted and the strength-user subdued, it didn’t need to be. Rakel raised a similar wall on the opposite and perpendicular sides, creating a cramped arena.
Chosen soldiers beat on the walls for several moments—testing to make sure they couldn’t bust through it—and Rakel used their distraction to build more of her power.
“Make ’em run for their mothers, Little Wolf,” Phile said, startling Rakel.
“Have you lost what little common sense you possess? Why are you not with the troops?”
“I didn’t want to miss the show. It sounds like it’s gonna be a good one. Remember: make it flashy, and they’ll forget your only magic is ice and snow.”
Rakel grit her teeth to refrain from shaking her friend. “You’re going to make things more difficult. With you here, I’ll have to worry about avoiding you.”
“No, you won’t. I’m gonna go perch on wolfy’s cage. You couldn’t hit her anyway, or you would release her. Good luck.” Phile scaled the cage holding the shapeshifter. The shifter—in her snow bear form—swiped at her, but Phile dodged her, pulling herself onto the cage roof. She rapped her knuckles on the roof, making the shapeshifter snarl.
Rakel shook her head and slipped to the center of the penned-in courtyard. She looked up to the storm cloud hanging overhead—which she hadn’t dismissed in spite of taking care of the weather-boy—and nudged it with her magic so it blotted out the sun.
She extended her arms—her fingers spread—and ice began to spiral out and away from her, crawling across the ground in precise patterns. The ice formed a giant snow flake, with her at the center. A push from her magic, and it began to rotate, gliding across the ground. It was for appearance’s sake—part of the show Phile had mentioned—but judging by the panicked shouts of the soldiers, they hadn’t figured that out.