Sacrifice (The Snow Queen #2)(4)

Rakel exhaled. This is it. The temporary halt of war and slaughter we’ve had since taking Ostfold is over. “Is he as bad as Farrin warned?”

“Worse,” Snorri gurgled.

“What has he done?” Rakel asked.

Snorri mumbled.

“Soldier,” General Halvor said.

Snorri rubbed his eyes, and his shoulders stooped. “He hasn’t done much yet, it’s what he says without a care. He’ll smile and laugh as he talks ’bout slitting a person’s throat.”

“We have shored up our defenses in expectation of his arrival,” General Halvor said. “But we will have to choose our battles more carefully.”

“You mean it will be grueling to face both Tenebris and Farrin in the same fight,” Rakel said, cutting to the heart of the matter. Farrin’s magic was unsettling. He could deflect any magical attack laid against him, affecting Rakel’s powers—which had always been her constant, loyal companion. Tenebris, however, was terror inducing. She had encountered his magic—casting curses—when they were taking back Ostfold. One of his underlings possessed a paper spelled with his powers and had placed it on Rakel.

The suffocating blackness and stark fear Rakel had experienced made her eager to avoid another encounter as long as possible.

“Farrin should not be the problem he once was, as long as we retain custody of his sword,” General Halvor said. “But I do believe Tenebris will be a quandary. Our saving grace is that we have Liv.”

Liv was one of a few Verglas magic users who had revealed her powers so she could stand with and assist Rakel. Her magic lay in purification—of water, food, wounds, and apparently curses.

“Perhaps.” Rakel pressed her lips together. But there is another equally troubling problem.

“What is it?” General Halvor asked, startling Rakel.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

“You look troubled.”

Rakel hesitated. “Winter will be over in a few weeks.”

“Yes.”

“It isn’t unusual for Verglas to have some snow in the early spring, but…”

“But?” General Halvor repeated.

“After the first few weeks of spring, there will be terrible consequences if I continue to use my powers.”

Snorri spoke up, surprising Rakel. “Your price—to fall unconscious after using your magic—you think it will grow worse when it is not winter?”

“No.” Rakel knit her hands together. “It is the land. If I bring forth frosts and snows when fruit trees are budding and farmers should be preparing the land for seeds, we will lose our crops and much of our food production. It is fine to use my powers extensively in the winter, but using them in summer could starve the country.”

“Agreed,” General Halvor said. “Though it must be stated that Verglas citizens will starve and die in slavery if you don’t use your powers, and the Chosen win.”

Rakel resisted the temptation to massage her forehead. “We are caught between two evils, it seems.”

“Not necessarily,” General Halvor said. “With Tenebris in the north, the battles will be more decisive. He will not allow it to drag into the summer. We will either win against him or lose, badly.”

The trio fell silent with this grim prediction. Even the bright laughter of the children and Phile’s voice—rising and falling as she recited her exaggerated tale—could not dislodge the claws of anxiety that squeezed Rakel’s heart.

“Ahh, Princess! There you are,” Oskar, Rakel’s longtime attendant, called. He sauntered through the market, a smile on his handsome face and an elderly woman—Hilda, the grandmother of one of Rakel’s child companions—leaning on his arms. Ten years Rakel’s senior, Oskar was composed mostly of charm and goodwill.

“Oskar, Hilda,” Rakel said in greeting.

Oskar’s bright red hair glowed in the pale sunlight. “Good afternoon, Princess, General Halvor, Mumbler. This lovely young lady has some news to share with you.”

Hilda chuckled. “You missed your calling in politics, young man. Honey would just melt on your tongue.”

“Do you have news from the south?” Rakel fidgeted with a twinge of anxiety.

Hilda had a mysterious method of contact with several of her friends, who all lived in southern Verglas. Rakel suspected it had something to do with magic, but she wasn’t about to call the woman out on it when it was only in the past season that the people of Verglas began to tolerate—not fear and despise—magic users.

“Indeed. I finally got a hold of Sirpa. She wishes to report that you should come south posthaste.”

“What is wrong?” General Halvor asked.

“The southern members of the resistance have the good sense of a turkey. They are fighting about what to call themselves: Snow Men or Defenders of the Snow Queen. Terrible names, both of them.” Hilda grunted.

Rakel exhaled with relief. “They have not been slaughtered?”

“Good heavens, no. Their biggest trouble is that they cannot decide what your symbol should be—a reindeer or a snowflake. Well, that and the raiders.”

“Raiders?” General Halvor asked, his voice sharp.

“Oh, dear, I was going to ease into that. Yes, raiders. Not all of the Chosen officers control their mercenary forces like our Colonel Graydim. Several officers have sent their soldiers to pillage and plunder the countryside.” The old lady fussed with her shawl.