Sacrifice (The Snow Queen #2)(42)

The black cloud brushed against the ice wall. Rakel yelped—she could feel the darkness snapping at her magic—making the wall frost over and carving snowflakes the size of sleighs into its surface.

The cursed magic resisted for a moment, straining to force its darkness through the white ice. The crystalline wall sang and shattered—but the black cloud disappeared.

Rakel released the breath of air she had been holding. It works. I can counter him.

A breeze picked up. She blinked, and Farrin Graydim stood in front of her, his new sword held above his head. His white scar underlined his dark eyes. Instead of his recent expression of tolerance, the sharp, relentless edge was back in his face. His lips were turned down in a barely discernible frown that, matched with his furrowed eyebrows, darkened his expression. He swung his sword down at her, and it took everything she had to keep from moving.

“I warned you I would fight you at full strength.” Farrin said. He had stopped his sword a hair’s breadth from her neck, and rested it on her collarbone. “Defend yourself.”

Rakel clenched her shaking hands into fists. “No, thank you.”

Farrin took a step closer, but the blade of his sword didn’t even nick her skin. “We have to fight, Rakel. You stand between my leader and what he wants.”

“So leave him.”

Farrin drew his shoulders back. “The Chosen took me in when I was little more than an animal and made me human. I can’t abandon them.”

“Did they really, though?” Rakel asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Does Tenebris see you as more than a leashed attack dog?” Rakel asked.

Farrin froze, his expression indiscernible.

This is where it gets dangerous. If I say the wrong thing, I could anger him. “Using your magic isn’t what makes you human or not; it’s your heart.” Rakel pointed to the Verglas troops, who were standing against the vicious battering ram of the Chosen forces. “My heart is with this land and these people, but they would never force me to do something I didn’t want, and they wouldn’t beat me like an animal for refusing them.”

Farrin’s eyes narrowed. “Your people love you because you have never slipped into the shadows and stained your hands with blood. I know your childhood is a void, Princess, but you must realize that the majority of magic users have darkness in their hearts.”

“That is a horrible excuse,” Rakel said. The wind tugged on the braid of her hair.

Farrin’s lips twisted. “You think it is an excuse? You think I take pleasure in killing? I stay with the Chosen because they accept me. You cannot tell me that after hearing of what I have done, you earnestly wish to befriend me. You are speaking with me only to occupy me so I do not harass your other magic users.”

Rakel flinched when she heard shouts. Tenebris had launched another cloud of darkness—one Rakel hadn’t noticed, so it reached the Verglas forces. The cloud disappeared, and moments later the shouting stopped. Liv. Rakel smiled and returned her attention to Farrin. “You are right. My job is to stop you and counter Tenebris, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a legitimate point. You should not stay with Tenebris.”

“There is no one else who will take me, Your Highness.”

“I will,” Rakel said. “And so will Verglas.”

Farrin stared at her. The animosity left his frame as undisguised pure shock flashed across his face. He chuckled. “That is a very poorly laid trap. You cannot want me.”

“I do.”

“Your people would revolt.”

“Not if you are my friend,” Rakel said, confidence marking her voice. She was less certain about this point, but based on the reaction of the resistance representatives, she suspected that while most would view him with suspicion, all would attribute the change to her miraculous powers—not Farrin’s strength of character. “So join us.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

“I have killed thousands, Rakel. My hands are stained with blood.”

“That is your past. It is despicable that you encountered such pain and were forced into such horrifying acts, but it is still the past. If you want to get out of this darkness in which you have entangled yourself, you have to reach past it.”

Farrin’s eyes were lit with painful hope. “How can you trust me?”

Interesting, he does not ask why he should trust me. “Because I have seen you, Farrin Graydim—not the colonel of the Chosen Army.” I need Phile to pass off the sword. Rakel sent a catapult of snow in the air.

“I do not believe you,” Farrin said.

“Trust does seem to be a rather rare commodity among magic users,” Rakel acknowledged. “So I took the trouble to prepare a token of my confidence.”

Farrin raised an eyebrow. “A token?”

“Little Wolf, catch!” Phile shouted as she raced past on her horse. She handed off Farrin’s sword—wrapped in cloth. When Rakel took it, she almost dropped it due to its weight. She fumbled, aware that Farrin’s eyes were focused on the weapon.

Farrin flexed his fingers as Rakel freed the sword of its wrappings.

“A token,” She repeated. She held out the sword.

“What is to keep me from taking my sword and slaughtering your troops?”