Sacrifice (The Snow Queen #2)(9)

The Chosen soldier had his arms in front of his face, but when he realized the snow wasn’t coming, he lowered his hands and stared at the ice formation.

There. Rakel thought, happy with the outcome. She delighted in using her magic to save, not destroy. Though she feared less for her life, the whispered hatred and bitterness regular folk held against magic users always ate at her.

“Princess,” General Halvor called. His sleigh was parked at the base of the cliff.

Phile—still mounted—was at his side. “Jump, Little Wolf!”

General Halvor snarled. “Jump?”

Rakel leaped from the embankment, dropping like a rock and landing on a fluffy snowdrift she formed at the base to lighten her fall.

General Halvor was on her in an instant. He didn’t grab her—he was too honorable for that—but he used his presence like a weapon and intimidated Rakel into the sleigh. “That was unnecessary,” he said.

Phile grinned. “Maybe, but it was fun, wasn’t it?”

Rakel let her lips turn up, which made General Halvor’s scowl deepen. “In the future, it would be wisest to refrain from taking unnecessary risks, Princess.” He turned to Phile. “And as for you, Oskar will be informed of the negative impact you have had on the princess.”

“I’m insulted you thought I would be anything else. I’m a Robber Maiden—I can’t be teaching her silly things like winter fashions and colors that complement her skin tone. It would ruin my reputation,” Phile said.

General Halvor ignored the response and flicked the reins, nudging the reindeer at the front of his sleigh.

Phile followed them on horseback. “Please, Handsome Halvor, don’t be angry. It makes me so sad when I don’t hear your velvety voice admonishing me.”

General Halvor, in silence, guided the reindeer farther into the mountain pass. He pulled up behind the intermingled Verglas soldiers and resistance fighters.

The pass was narrower here, banning any kind of fancy formation. The Verglas forces and the Chosen mercenaries faced off toe to toe. Men shouted in pain, weapons clanged, and the air choked Rakel with the metallic scent of blood.

“Do we need to push them in any deeper, Little Wolf?” Phile squinted to see farther down the mountain path.

“Here is fine.” Rakel disembarked from the sleigh—earning her a look of warning from General Halvor.

She eased her way through the troops, careful to stay out of reach of mercenary weapons, but needing to see the ground so she could make the wall to close off the pass. She stretched her fingers out and reached for her magic, relaxing at its cool touch.

Ice burst from the ground, chiseling and sculpting as Rakel channeled her magic. She started her wall on one side of the pass, and dragged ice up until it extended at least two stories high. The ice was as thick as a horse was long, and cold enough to make her lungs ache. Relying on her significant knowledge of architecture, Rakel did not fashion her barrier after a castle wall, but instead built it like a giant dam. It was slanted, curved slightly upward, and was topped with elaborate arches.

She continued to boost up the ice so the dam would extend from one side of the pass to the other. When she reached the halfway point, however, she heard someone shout, “Look out!”

Startled, Rakel raised her gaze just as the Chosen mercenary with the feather-like hair dove in front of her, holding a shield snug to his chest. An arrow—fired from a different mercenary—thumped into his shield.

If he hadn’t intercepted it, it would have hit her.

Phile pushed a mercenary across the boundary. “Finish the wall, Little Wolf!”

Rakel snapped her attention back to the dam and sealed it off. A few of the Chosen soldiers remained on the Verglas side of the pass—one of them the strange man who had shielded her.

As if sensing her eyes on him, the soldier turned around and dropped his shield. “Good afternoon.” He raised his hands into the air to show he had no weapons. That was all he got out before a resistance fighter tackled him, shoving him face-first into a snow bank.

Unlike the other soldiers, he didn’t struggle. “That’s cold,” he yelped. Eydìs used her ropes to tie him up, and the resistance fighter holding him in place with a knee hauled him upright and scowled in his face. The Chosen mercenary shivered and shed loose flakes of snow.

Rakel, keeping a firm grasp on her magic so she wouldn’t fall unconscious, eyed the odd man. Now that she was closer, she could see he had a beaky nose and an infectious smile. “Why did you shield me from that arrow?”

“You saved my life. A life for a life—that’s my motto. And it’s fair, no?” He wore a cheerful smile that seemed at odds with his rope bindings.

“But you belong to the Allegiance of the Chosen Army,” Rakel said.

The soldier squinted up at her. “Belong is a strong word—particularly for us mercenaries—if you’ll excuse me for saying so, Your Highness.”

Phile threw her arms around Rakel and crushed her in a side hug. “That was well done, Little Wolf. I hoped we would be able to seal those raiders off, but I didn’t have much faith that we would actually accomplish it. What luck! Oh, who is your friend?” Phile peered at the strange mercenary.

“Cronius Winderbag, at your service—though most folks just call me Crow.” The mercenary graced Rakel and Phile with a wobbly bow, unable to keep his balance with his arms tied to his sides.