Heart of Ice (The Snow Queen #1)(8)

It was good practice. As they walked along, Rakel’s powers stirred and spun, following her thoughts and actions. It moved with her like an old friend.

“How many of the enemy?” Captain Halvor asked.

The scout mumbled, but Rakel made out, “Double what attacked Fyran.”

The captain shifted so he could face Rakel. “You must move hard and fast. We’ll protect you, but you are the only hope of driving them from the village.”

She could feel the soldiers’ stares hammering into her back, weighing on her like an avalanche. Ho-ho-ho, you think I’ll fight with your fine soldiers at my back? No, thank you! “That is unnecessary. I will enter Vefsna alone.”

“No,” Captain Halvor said.

“Out of the question,” Oskar added.

Rakel narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Because you are royalty, and I cannot have you taking such an unnecessary risk,” Captain Halvor said.

“We could take half the soldiers—four—including Halvor and me—instead of all eight of us,” Oskar said.

Halvor scowled at the attendant. “All eight of us go in.”

Rakel shook her head. “I refuse. If I must have an escort, I will allow Oskar and you, Captain Halvor. That is all.”

Captain Halvor’s shoulders hunched up, and he appeared about to lay a scathing glare on her, but Oskar raised his hand and stepped in between them.

“Why?” he asked.

I wonder—maybe it’s because one of these guards has already tried to kill me? In a fight in which I’ll be using my magic, the trust of the fearful and ignorant is a commodity I cannot afford.

Rakel cleared her throat and regained a solid grip on her emotions. “I have my reasons.”

“Alright,” Oskar agreed, taking a step closer to Rakel.

“It is not alright, attendant,” Captain Halvor snarled, catching Oskar by his cape and yanking him backwards. “I will not have a member of the royal family—exiled or not—waltzing into the middle of an enemy stronghold with only you and me to protect her.”

A frown as thin as a snowflake settled on Rakel’s lips. “While I appreciate the esteem, Captain, I’m afraid I will not agree to your demands this time.”

“Then you do not enter Vefsna,” he said.

“You would sacrifice a village because I refuse to take a guard with me?”

“Yes.”

“And you think you can stop me from entering Vefsna?”

“No.”

Rakel blinked. If he knew all of that, why was he making such a fuss?

“Halvor, buckle on this one,” Oskar said. “It will pay off. I promise.”

The captain scowled at him and puffed his chest up with a big inhale. “Stand down, men,” he finally ordered.

The soldiers saluted him and took up positions behind bushes and other cover. The mumbling soldier—Snorri, Oskar had called him—scurried up a tree.

With only the captain and attendant as her audience, Rakel glided across the snow, following the captain’s hushed directions to Vefsna.

Vefsna was larger than Fyran, and Rakel could see hints of the idyllic villages often drawn in the few storybooks she had in her library—it was in the wooden carvings that adorned doorways, support beams, and roofs—but besides the hints, the village was a ramshackle. The invaders had done a great deal of damage, judging by the ruined shutters, broken doors, and buildings blackened from fire.

It was also unnaturally quiet. No animals bleated; no one puffed laughter or shouted in indignation. The invaders, ugly puddles on the white snow in their black and crimson uniforms, filled the streets like a murder of carrion crows.

Most of the villagers were out of sight, but there were a few out, wearing bruises and fright as they carried food and drinks to the invaders.

One of the laborers was an older woman. When she slipped and dropped a plate of ham, a soldier kicked her in the ribs.

Rakel rubbed the tips of her fingers together, igniting the cold spark of her magic. Snow began to swirl in the middle of the road that ambled through the village. Ice grew up from the ground, forming and shaping under Rakel’s magic. Glancing at the invaders, she molded the sculpture until it grew into a life-sized replica of an invader—perfectly detailed, down to the insignias on their uniforms.

The invaders exchanged glances and moved towards the statue with reluctance, as if it would come to life and brandish its icy pike at them.

“Um, Princess?” Oskar asked. “You are quite talented, but is this really—”

Rakel snapped her fingers. A giant sword of ice dropped from the sky, impaling the sculpture in the neck. The ice statue’s head slid off, hitting the ground with an ominous thud.

One of the invaders yelped, and the rest of them gripped their weapons, turning to scowl at the villagers.

“Who did that?” an invader roared, his voice harsh like a metal dagger shaving ice from a block. “Show yourself!”

Rakel glanced at Oskar and Captain Halvor, worry creasing her forehead. I suppose it doesn’t matter if they end up fearing me, she thought with regret. Vefsna needs—

Rakel’s thoughts stopped when an invader grabbed a man by the throat. “Was it you?” he demanded. The man struggled, pulling on the invader’s wrist as his life was strangled out of him.