Heart of Ice (The Snow Queen #1)(64)

Rakel coated the tower with ice, searching for cracks and structural weaknesses to exploit. She had only just started inspecting it when a fox sounded its hoarse bark of alarm.

That would be the shapeshifter.

She pulled at the ice on the tower, trying to collapse it. It shook but held, possessing a solid structure and base. Rakel was tempted to pour more power into it—she wanted it toppled. Her attention was diverted, however, by the snow bear that came pelting out of the woods, running straight for her.

Rakel heaved up the snow and ice under the snow bear as fast as she could. The snow bear jumped off as the ice shot up like a pillar, but it was thrown off balance enough that it almost landed on its head and rolled a few times.

The girl with the strength magic burst out of the palace, the weather boy on her heels. “You!” the girl declared, thrusting her finger at Rakel. “I won’t be beaten this time!”

Rakel formed a hefty snowball weighted with an ice core and struck the weather boy in the back. He yelped and smacked into the strength girl. She didn’t buckle, but she turned bright red as the weather boy grasped her cloak.

“A little help, please?” the weather boy called.

Eight additional men and women ran out of the palace.

The snow bear shook snow off its body and grinned. It stood upright, transforming into a sharp-eyed woman. “Eleven against one—I like those odds,” she said in a husky voice.

Frodi darted out of the forest and hurled a fist-sized ball of fire at her back, setting her sleeveless tunic on fire. She yelped and threw herself onto the snow-covered ground, smothering the flames.

One of the new enemy magic users raised his arms, but rope climbed up him like a snake, binding his limbs together. The weather boy yelped as rope snatched him by the wrists and dragged him to the ground.

The strength girl grabbed him and pulled, snapping the ropes—although the weather boy winced in pain. “What’s going on?” she shouted.

The rest of the Verglas magic users, led by Snorri, emerged from their hiding spots in the forest, their dark cloaks blending in with the shadows of the trees.

“We apologize for throwing off your count. The battle will be seven verses eleven,” Frodi said with a wolfish smile. His assigned partner—a female merchant who had an extensive and clever ability to manipulate ropes—stood at his side and cut off a length of twine.

“Eight, if you count the elf,” she said.

One of the enemy’s unknown magic users frowned. “Elf?”

In the shadows, Ragnar finished his spell, bringing Genovefa to their location.

The otherworldly being brushed her hair out of her face as the light enveloping her faded. “Elf-friend Ragnar, it is my joy to answer your call. Am I to fight the honorable foe again?”

“No. Just them—though they are magic users.”

The elf looked at them and frowned. “It is a pity—none of them are as strong as the previous foe. Still, it is my honor to fight on your behalf.” She drew her shortsword from its scabbard.

“Take her down!” the shapeshifter yelled. “Prioritize the princess and the elf.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the elf said, taking a step towards her. “I will be more than enough to face you.”

Rakel blinked, and the elf was on the shapeshifter, moving as fast as Farrin.

“Perhaps you should go, Princess. I believe we can handle this,” Ragnar said, joining Rakel in watching the battle.

Another one of their new allies—a woodsman from Glowma—cast a spell on the strength girl, slowing her movements to about half-speed. He sweated as he held her, but with her slow, bumbling speed, she was easy to dodge and flee.

Rakel looked out at the battle with awe and pride. The Verglas magic users were astounding to behold. “Thank you, Ragnar.”

“My pleasure, Princess.”

Rakel reclaimed Frigid’s reins. Rather than struggling onto his bony back again, Rakel dragged him along by his odd halter, heading east for the produce gardens. I hope Snorri’s maps are accurate, she thought. Based on how quickly Farrin manages to seek me out, if I flash my magic around a bit, he will find me.

They left the empty, northern side of the palace and entered the gardens that sprawled on the east side. The produce gardens were the farthest away; first they had to make their way through the snow-covered flower gardens which, oddly, had neatly shoveled cobblestone paths.

Rakel was admiring a frosted weeping willow when Frigid almost ripped the reins out of her hands. He tossed his head and bellowed. “Frigid?” Rakel asked. She felt a draft at her back, and she raised a shield of ice. She wasn’t fast enough, and she was struck on the back of the neck.

NO!

Rakel fell in a heap. Her head throbbed with pain, but she suspected she knew her attacker. “Farrin,” she growled, building her powers.

She was surprised when a woman in a dress knelt next to her and slapped a piece of paper onto her forehead.

In an instant, Rakel lost her sight and hearing. She screamed—a sound she couldn’t hear—and pushed herself away. She ripped the paper off her forehead, but her senses remained dead. She reached out, hoping to feel Frigid. She felt nothing but darkness.

“Frigid?” she called. She knew she spoke, she could feel her lips move, but heard nothing.

Did they cut me off from—?