Sacrifice (The Snow Queen #2)(12)
Phile adjusted the red kerchief she wore over her hair. “But fear can make a man live a shell of a life.”
“If you say so. Princess?”
“Yes?” Rakel settled into the sleigh.
“Let go of your magic,” Oskar ordered.
Phile snorted. “You sound like her parent.”
Oskar raised an eyebrow. “And what does that make you? You frequently lecture her as I do.”
Phile batted her eyelashes. “If you’re her father, I will volunteer to take the role of mother.”
Oskar ignored the flirtation and smiled at Rakel. “I’ll take note of tonight’s events and inform you of anything you missed when you awaken.”
Rakel exhaled and dropped her grip on her minty magic. In a few short moments, her muscles fell out of her control, going slack as her vision became fuzzy.
It’s an uncomfortable price, Rakel thought, her mind still under her control. But it is a small thing compared to the joy my magic gives me.
Before Rakel could further ruminate, unconsciousness stole her mind; her breathing deepened, and she sagged on the sleigh, unaware of the world.
CHAPTER 3
CONFIDENCE FROM THE ENEMY
“They have an impressive structure, given that only a few of them ever served in the military,” General Halvor said, caught in a rare moment of chattiness. “It seems they use merchants as a method of communication. It is a risky move as the Chosen could shut down supply trains at any time, but it allows them to communicate with one another in a timely manner.”
“I see.” Rakel walked shoulder to shoulder with the general and felt invigorated by his passion. Very little could bring out such pleasure in Halvor; meetings and tactics occupied the highest place in his life. It seems the resistance fighters had embraced both, gaining his respect.
“I believe it would be in our best interests to support them,” he continued.
“You wish to send them some magic users?” Rakel asked.
“No,” General Halvor said. “As I stated previously, we cannot spare them. I plan to send several officers and a small number of troops. Their superior knowledge of weapons and warfare will be a boon to the resistance.”
“You know,” Phile said, walking on Rakel’s other side. “My heart has been shattered.”
Rakel furrowed her brows. “Why?”
Phile chewed a hunk of bread and gave Halvor a reproachful look. “Because I’ve spent weeks buttering up to General Halvor, and this resistance has captured more enthusiasm from him in a day than I have in the length of our relationship.”
General Halvor stared at Phile, his upper lip twitching in what was most likely disgust.
Rakel shook her head when Phile offered her a chunk from her loaf. “Calling your interactions a relationship may be a strain.”
Phile sighed. “Neither of you are any fun. Snorri! I know you’re skulking around. Let’s go spy on someone or steal something!” She turned in a circle, searching for the taciturn scout.
Rakel glanced at Halvor to gauge his reaction. “Do her comments bother you that much?”
General Halvor’s face was as smooth as paper, but his enthusiasm was gone. “What comments, Princess?”
Rakel patted his shoulder, unsure why she was consoling him but feeling the need to regardless. Since leaving my exile on Ensom, I have come to learn that emotions can be tangled and complicated. Black-tea-colored hair and gray eyes lurked in her mind. She ruthlessly shoved the thought away.
She was relieved when the path narrowed, and she could see the ice-dam—sparkling in the afternoon sunlight—up ahead. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be a moment.”
“Call if you need anything.” Phile tucked her loaf of bread under her arm. She tossed Foedus in the air and caught it with the same hand, then turned to face Halvor. “As we spent the night in Begna to speak with the resistance fighters, I imagine the news will have piled up in Ostfold. Do you know where you want Snorri and me to scout next?”
Rakel smiled back at the stationary pair, walked farther down the path, and approached the road block.
She placed her hand on the ice wall, feeling out its strength and structural integrity. It seems the Chosen mercenaries tried to break through it. She felt several cracks and dents in the ice. I think they have given up and left, but I had better strengthen it anyway. She tapped her magic and repaired the ice, channeling her chilly powers through her fingertips. She added a few inches of ice to thicken it up, made a few structural improvements to the base, and smiled in satisfaction.
“You won’t fall unconscious this time?”
Rakel, on sheer instinct, formed several ice swords as she whipped around and steeled herself for a fight.
Colonel Farrin Graydim of the Chosen Army stood a few horse-lengths behind her, watching her. His skin was tanned from hours in the sun, and his tall, lean body was clothed in the black and crimson Chosen uniform. He was handsome, but he had a slightly intimidating air to him due to the white scar that followed the tops of his cheekbones and sliced across his nose.
When he had her attention, he sauntered closer. “You must have to use a great deal of power to trigger it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Farrin raised an eyebrow at her, and the wind ruffled his hair—which was a fascinating shade of black and brown. “You do not recall falling unconscious after successfully stealing my sword?”