Sacrifice (The Snow Queen #2)(51)

“I did. Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” Oskar said in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…unwell.” She was unsure of how to further inquire without overstepping her boundaries.

“Ahh, it is nothing you need to trouble yourself with, Princess,” Oskar said. “I have seen my own folly, and I must be forced to live with my regrets.”

“If you would like to talk about it…”

“I am not worth your time, Princess.”

“Of course you are,” Rakel said. “You have supported me and stood with me. I want to hear what is troubling you.”

Oskar sighed and shut his eyes. “It’s when you say things like that, that I feel like the most awful being in Verglas.”

Rakel reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, but she hesitated. “I apologize.”

“It’s not you, Princess, it is my own sins that plague me.” Oskar turned so they faced the circle of campfires. The peppery scent of smoke lingered in the air, and Rakel could detect a whiff of the boar they had roasted earlier.

“Yes?” she prodded.

“I have done wrong by you for so many years, and I didn’t see it,” Oskar said. For the first time ever, Rakel could sense the difference in their years and see it in his face. Though he was ten years older than she, he usually looked as young as Phile or Knut. Tonight, though, his eyes were tired and heavy, his smile sad and jaded.

“You did for me what no one else did, Oskar. Before anyone had need of me for this invasion, you treated me like a human being,” Rakel said. I know that, now. All those years I thought you were mentally addled, you were sincerely friendly.

“Perhaps.” The bitterness in his voice made the word sour. “But I could have done so much more.”

Rakel studied his face, searching for clues. What is he talking about? He was the sole being who truly cared for me.

“All those years on Ensom Peak. I should have spirited you away from Verglas and taken you to Baris. Magic isn’t feared there—it’s just something some people have—but no one sees much use for it, so it’s generally ignored.”

“Oskar, you are too noble to resort to kidnapping.” Rakel smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not if it meant you would have had a better childhood. You are royalty—a princess. Persons of such caliber are supposed to be kept separate, and so I thought that would be best for you. But I see it now. You are happiest when you are with people. Though you are reserved, you take pleasure in seeing the joy of others,” Oskar said.

“You cannot take responsibility for my parents’ orders. As my attendant—your smiles were more than anyone else offered me,” Rakel said.

He ignored her words and shook his head in misery. “I was so proud of myself and self-righteous for—for what I did do for you. But I gave you things when I should have sought to bring other people into contact with you. I should have hustled you off and not kept you exiled. It is my failure.”

Gave me things? Rakel strained her mind, trying to remember when Oskar—when anyone—had ever given her anything. She didn’t think he had—although he had encouraged her self-guided studies and reading—the books!

“You were the one who gave me books every month?” Rakel asked.

Oskar winced. “I did not mean for you to find out. Ever.”

Rakel was simultaneously crestfallen and warmed. It had been her long held hope that her parents had cared enough about her to build her library. To learn it wasn’t them disappointed her, but to discover it was Oskar more than made up for it. “Books are terribly expensive, and you gave them to me by the crate load. You must have spent every coin you made on my library.”

Oskar pressed his lips together and stubbornly remained quiet.

Rakel mulled over the epiphany, trying to puzzle through it. “You made the most of your assignment as my attendant, then.”

Oskar exhaled, deflated. “I wasn’t assigned to you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I volunteered. And before you give me too much credit, I am only partially responsible for your library. Giving you books was always important to me, but Steinar bought some of the maps and models for you when he became king and realized what I was doing.”

That explains our identical map sets. “I always thought it was odd my parents would send a male attendant with me, not a footman or a female servant.”

“I was in line to serve Steinar,” Oskar admitted. “But I saw you a few times when you were a child. When I learned of your exile to Ensom…”

Oskar chose to serve me. He chose me, when everyone else was afraid. Rakel stared at her attendant. The disappointment of her parents’ decision was nothing compared to the realization that she hadn’t been alone, even when her exile first started.

“It was too cruel to treat you like a monster, when all you were was a scared little girl,” Oskar said.

Rakel struggled to put her thoughts into words. “I don’t think you realize how much you have done for me, Oskar.”

“I failed you, Princess.” Oskar’s eyes were sorrowful. “If I had tossed aside my stupid ideas of royalty and class…you would have been so much happier.”

“No, Oskar,” Rakel argued. “You are too filled with regret to see what you have done for me. Don’t you realize it? If you hadn’t given me those books—if I didn’t have the knowledge of architecture that I possess, there are a hundred times the invasion would have finished us.”