Sacrifice (The Snow Queen #2)(78)

Oskar tapped his fingers on his thighs—hard. “What on earth possessed her to use that much of her magic?”

Frodi, almost horizontal with exhaustion, shook his head.

The slant of Phile’s eyebrows was mournful and telling as Rakel’s minty magic ruffled Farrin’s hair with the breeze.

Several notes blown on ram horns echoed up and down the field as Verglas soldiers chased the surviving mercenaries. They scrambled for the border, no longer fighting. The Chosen magic users who hadn’t fled—pushed out by the pure concentration of Rakel’s magic—were in the process of surrendering.

General Halvor strode up the pathway, a scowl stretching across his lips as he barked off orders to his soldiers. “Divide up the Chosen magic users—see that Tollak snaps his unbreakable cuffs on the most dangerous. Take precautions.” The general turned his attention to angrily eye Farrin and Rakel. “What was that?” he snapped.

“I don’t know,” Farrin said.

The general stomped up to Tenebris—or what used to be Tenebris. Rakel’s magic had burned away at him and frozen what little was left. “Someone must. Though the princess delights in working alone, she takes care to inform at least one other to lessen the chance of misunderstandings.”

If she told someone…Farrin raised his gaze to Phile, his expression hardening.

Oskar noticed the change and swiveled around to frown at his companion. “Phile? Is there something you want to tell us?”

General Halvor finished his inspection of Tenebris and motioned to one of his soldiers. “Signal the troops to stop chasing the mercenaries. They’re past the border—they won’t be returning.” He glanced once more at Tenebris. “The battle is ours.” He swung his gaze around to Phile—who was already squirming under Farrin and Oskar’s scrutiny. “Phile,” he barked.

“She pushed all her magic into the land.” Phile said the words proudly, and her eyes flickered with pride as she gazed at Rakel’s still body.

Farrin, on the other hand, froze. What?

Phile continued. “She thought if she embedded her magic into the land in the same way she embeds her magic in her ice-structures, like her castle, Tenebris and men like him wouldn’t be able to enter Verglas.” Phile nodded at the border where a giant wall of ice burst out of the ground when Grimick—the only remaining colonel of the Chosen forces—tried to push his way back in. “Seems she was right.”

Farrin barely heard her observation; he was still trying to take in the explanation. Rakel had shoved her magic into the land? All of it? Can anyone with as much magic as she has survive handling all of it in that short of a time frame? His eyes dropped to her face, where he saw signs of strain with new understanding.

Oskar smiled—though it didn’t cover his obvious anger. “While that’s fascinating and wonderful, that doesn’t tell me why Rakel resembles a hypothermia victim and why Farrin Graydim looks like someone stabbed him in the chest.”

General Halvor’s bristly mood dropped from him, and weariness set into his shoulders. “It’s because she barely survived funneling all of her magic at once. That, combined with the terrible price she will have to pay for using everything she has, means it is unlikely she will ever awake. Am I wrong?”

Farrin knew the question was directed at him, but he was numb, unable to respond.

“No,” Phile said. Her voice crackled as she fought to hold back tears.

Steinar shook his head. “But—no. She, she can’t. She has to wake up.” For the first time since setting eye on the king, he looked to Farrin like the young nineteen-year-old he really was as he stared at his sister, his horror mounting.

Oskar, unlike the general and king, puffed up in anger and hissed at Phile. “Why didn’t you stop her? You should have told us!”

“She did it because she wanted to save everyone. If I told, you would have stopped her,” Phile said.

“If you told us, she would be alive!” Oskar shouted.

The shouts and rejoicing of the troops nearly eclipsed the attendant. The resistance fighters wildly waved their homemade flags, and the soldiers stamped their feet, shouting.

“Snow Queen!”

“Snow Queen!”

“Snow Queen!”

They had won—not just the war, but everything. The mirror was safe—no magic user as twisted as Tenebris would be able to enter Verglas again, unless Rakel’s magic embedded in the country faded over time. But the cost of the victory was far too great.

Farrin raised his gaze to the cheering citizens and soldiers, and the more subdued magic users—the majority of them had to be able to feel Rakel’s magic running rampant. Magic as strong as hers was difficult to miss.

For just a heartbeat, he hated them all.

Gentle, easily-embarrassed, beautiful Rakel had given her life for them. If not for these festering masses, she would be awake. Farrin would have given anything for her, but instead she had given everything she had. For them.

As quick as the hatred came, Farrin brushed it off. She would have sacrificed herself for this country if the only ones living in it were myself and a bunch of magic-haters. That is why I love her—for her fierce heart and incredible compassion. And she still breathes. She’s not dead yet.

Though he thought words of hope, his heart sank the longer he gazed at her still body. “She knew what would happen?” he asked Phile.