Sacrifice (The Snow Queen #2)(63)

Farrin followed her gaze. “Of course.” He tenderly tucked a tendril of her white hair behind her ear. Though he didn’t say anything more, his eyes were bright with longing, and he brushed Rakel’s cheek with a finger.

The gesture made warmth bloom on Rakel’s face, and she involuntarily leaned toward his touch. I love him. She ruthlessly pushed the thought down. Then she pulled her face away to give Farrin a business-like nod, raised her chin, and focused on Gerta—grateful for the distraction.

She heard Farrin chuckle as she left him, but her mirth—and embarrassment—died away as she approached the little girl and crouched next to her. “What’s wrong, Gerta?”

“Nothing,” Gerta said in a small voice.

“Are you seeking out your grandmother?” Rakel asked. Hilda had attended the meeting to give the latest report from her contacts.

“No,” Gerta said. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Rakel drew the little girl aside so they wouldn’t block the door. “What would you like to talk about?”

Gerta tugged on her worn skirt. “I want magic, too. Like Kai,” she blurted.

Rakel blinked—that had been the last thing she had expected. Who—besides Phile—actually wants magic? “Why?”

“I want to be special, too.”

Rakel smiled. “Oh, Gerta, you are very special.”

“How?”

“Deep in your heart, you have such potential to love and cherish. That in itself is its own kind of magic.”

“But it’s not the same,” Gerta said.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t take powers or magic to do extraordinary things.”

“Then what does it take?”

“It’s something you already have: hope.” The answer spilled from her lips. “Hope never dies, and if you can cling to it, it’s the strongest kind of power there is.”

“If I have hope, can I still be with Kai?”

“Is that why you want magic?” Rakel asked.

“Yes. The other village children said Kai is different because he has magic, and he’ll leave me.”

Rakel chuckled. “Gerta, a little thing like magic couldn’t separate you two. As long as you have courage and hope, you’ll always be together.”

Gerta nodded, her forehead wrinkling profusely—as if she was trying to commit Rakel’s words to memory. “Okay,” she said.

Hilda approached the pair. “Greetings, Princess—why, Gerta! My dear, you’ve been crying. Come, let’s wash your eyes and get you something to eat.”

The skip was back in Gerta’s steps. “Yes, Grandmother. Thank you, Princess!”

“Of course. I’m honored you sought me out.” Rakel smiled as she watched the grandmother and granddaughter. Tenebris must be defeated—to protect the innocents. But…can I do it?



True to Halvor’s word, they paused their journey south to view the razed village of Asker. Very little remained of the village—a few scorched corner posts, the bare skeleton of a cottage, and scattered refuse. The charred remains still smoldered, and everything was ashy gray from the sky to the slushy, half-melted snow. The air was choked with the scent of smoke and burnt earth, and even the wind sounded mournful as it howled through the meadow the small village used to occupy.

Rakel slid from Frigid’s back and made her way towards the fallen village.

“Princess, we can move on,” Oskar said. “You don’t need to see this.”

“You’re right, I don’t need to,” Rakel said. “But I should.”

Steinar joined her. “I agree.”

Oskar looked back and forth between them, and then sighed. “As you wish.” He nodded to Farrin—who moved behind them like a black shadow.

The village had been little more than an outpost. Judging by the ruin, it couldn’t have been more than fifteen buildings. “This is evil,” Rakel said as they walked past the charred remains of a broken chimney.

“Yes,” Steinar said. “So remember it well. We don’t want to let this happen to Verglas again.”

“There will always be darkness, Sire,” Farrin said as he swept his eyes across the village. “What’s more important is remembering what hope is.”

Rakel glanced up at Farrin, pleasantly surprised by his unusually optimistic outlook. He’s changing—for the better. He’s losing the bleakness he used to wear.

Steinar stared at his soaked boots. “Yes.”

A board creaked, and Rakel saw an archer step out of the trees, his bow nocked. “Attack—it’s an attack!” she shouted. She lunged in front of her brother and raised a shield of ice, blocking the arrow.

“Are they mercenaries?” Steinar asked.

The arrow exploded into fire.

Rakel doused the arrow with ice. “No, magic users.”

Farrin ran at the archer, reflected another fiery arrow, then pounced on him and brained him with the hilt of his sword. The archer flopped to the ground like a fish, and Farrin whirled around and shouted. “He’s one of Kavon’s—the colonel of the Third Regiment. Be on your guard: Kavon is an illusionist.”

Hearing their shouts, the Verglas troops rallied, falling into formation and storming towards them.