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“Worse,” Snorri gurgled.

  “What has he done?” Rakel asked.

  Snorri mumbled.

  “Soldier,” General Halvor said.

  Snorri rubbed his eyes, and his shoulders stooped. “He hasn’t done much yet, it’s what he says without a care. He’ll smile and laugh as he talks ’bout slitting a person’s throat.”

  “We have shored up our defenses in expectation of his arrival,” General Halvor said. “But we will have to choose our battles more carefully.”

  “You mean it will be grueling to face both Tenebris and Farrin in the same fight,” Rakel said, cutting to the heart of the matter. Farrin’s magic was unsettling. He could deflect any magical attack laid against him, affecting Rakel’s powers—which had always been her constant, loyal companion. Tenebris, however, was terror inducing. She had encountered his magic—casting curses—when they were taking back Ostfold. One of his underlings possessed a paper spelled with his powers and had placed it on Rakel.

  The suffocating blackness and stark fear Rakel had experienced made her eager to avoid another encounter as long as possible.

  “Farrin should not be the problem he once was, as long as we retain custody of his sword,” General Halvor said. “But I do believe Tenebris will be a quandary. Our saving grace is that we have Liv.”

  Liv was one of a few Verglas magic users who had revealed her powers so she could stand with and assist Rakel. Her magic lay in purification—of water, food, wounds, and apparently curses.

  “Perhaps.” Rakel pressed her lips together. But there is another equally troubling problem.

  “What is it?” General Halvor asked, startling Rakel.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked.

  “You look troubled.”

  Rakel hesitated. “Winter will be over in a few weeks.”

  “Yes.”

  “It isn’t unusual for Verglas to have some snow in the early spring, but…”

  “But?” General Halvor repeated.

  “After the first few weeks of spring, there will be terrible consequences if I continue to use my powers.”

  Snorri spoke up, surprising Rakel. “Your price—to fall unconscious after using your magic—you think it will grow worse when it is not winter?”

  “No.” Rakel knit her hands together. “It is the land. If I bring forth frosts and snows when fruit trees are budding and farmers should be preparing the land for seeds, we will lose our crops and much of our food production. It is fine to use my powers extensively in the winter, but using them in summer could starve the country.”

  “Agreed,” General Halvor said. “Though it must be stated that Verglas citizens will starve and die in slavery if you don’t use your powers, and the Chosen win.”

  Rakel resisted the temptation to massage her forehead. “We are caught between two evils, it seems.”

  “Not necessarily,” General Halvor said. “With Tenebris in the north, the battles will be more decisive. He will not allow it to drag into the summer. We will either win against him or lose, badly.”

  The trio fell silent with this grim prediction. Even the bright laughter of the children and Phile’s voice—rising and falling as she recited her exaggerated tale—could not dislodge the claws of anxiety that squeezed Rakel’s heart.

  “Ahh, Princess! There you are,” Oskar, Rakel’s longtime attendant, called. He sauntered through the market, a smile on his handsome face and an elderly woman—Hilda, the grandmother of one of Rakel’s child companions—leaning on his arms. Ten years Rakel’s senior, Oskar was composed mostly of charm and goodwill.

  “Oskar, Hilda,” Rakel said in greeting.

  Oskar’s bright red hair glowed in the pale sunlight. “Good afternoon, Princess, General Halvor, Mumbler. This lovely young lady has some news to share with you.”

  Hilda chuckled. “You missed your calling in politics, young man. Honey would just melt on your tongue.”

  “Do you have news from the south?” Rakel fidgeted with a twinge of anxiety.

  Hilda had a mysterious method of contact with several of her friends, who all lived in southern Verglas. Rakel suspected it had something to do with magic, but she wasn’t about to call the woman out on it when it was only in the past season that the people of Verglas began to tolerate—not fear and despise—magic users.

  “Indeed. I finally got a hold of Sirpa. She wishes to report that you should come south posthaste.”

  “What is wrong?” General Halvor asked.

  “The southern members of the resistance have the good sense of a turkey. They are fighting about what to call themselves: Snow Men or Defenders of the Snow Queen. Terrible names, both of them.” Hilda grunted.

  Rakel exhaled with relief. “They have not been slaughtered?”

  “Good heavens, no. Their biggest trouble is that they cannot decide what your symbol should be—a reindeer or a snowflake. Well, that and the raiders.”

  “Raiders?” General Halvor asked, his voice sharp.

  “Oh, dear, I was going to ease into that. Yes, raiders. Not all of the Chosen officers control their mercenary forces like our Colonel Graydim. Several officers have sent their soldiers to pillage and plunder the countryside.” The old lady fussed with her shawl.

  “How bad is it?” Rakel asked.

  “Nothing they can’t survive. There have been few injuries and deaths, but they’ll need a good harvest this summer if the southern villages are to survive next winter.”

  “We have to stop them.” Rakel turned to General Halvor and Oskar. “Can we send some of our magic users south?”

  General Halvor shook his head. “We have too few of them to do so. Tenebris is here. They must support you and the main battle. However, we might be able to send some troops.”

  Oskar winced. “Tenebris finally made it, did he? That’s a shame. I was hoping a wolf might eat him on his travels.”

  “Not all of the raiding is as far south as you’d think.” Hilda ruffled her shoulders like a squat wren. “Sirpa said the raiders were on the path to sweep through Lajoki, Rollad, and Begna—and Begna is just a few hours from here.”

  “I said, Little Wolf, it was snowing heavily!” Phile said.

  Rakel ignored her. “We can ride out and stop them.”

  “The other magic users can ride out,” Oskar said.

  “Yes,” General Halvor said. “For you to ride out, Princess, would be a useless risk.”

  “It wouldn’t be useless if we could wipe out all those raiders,” Rakel said. “Do they travel with any magic users?”

  Hilda shook her head. “No, it’s just the mercenaries. Apparently those in the Chosen who can wield magic don’t like fraternizing with the help.”

  “That hardly comes as a surprise,” Oskar said.

  “If they have no magic users to defend them, they’ll be a fast, easy target,” Rakel said.

  “Pst. Little Wolf. You missed your cue.”

  Like everyone else, General Halvor ignored the Robber Maiden. He raised an eyebrow. “You would slay them?”

  It was a legitimate question. Thus far Rakel had refused to kill—and planned to continue on with the vow.

  “No. Begna is close to our Mullberg border, and there is a trader’s pass between the mountains that divide us. We could run them out of the country,” Rakel said. Verglas was partially boxed in by mountains. With a range to the north that also extended a little to the west before turning into foothills, and a second range stretching along their eastern border, there were only a few paths and passes to enter Mullberg—which was even more mountainous and isolated than Verglas.

  Oskar smiled brightly. “You’ve been studying the maps in the royal library, haven’t you?”

  “Little Wolf!”

  “Thank you for pointing them out to me,” Rakel said.

  “It was my honor.”

  “What is to keep the mercenaries from reentering after you leave?” General Halvor asked.

  “She can build a wall,” Phile said.


  Everyone in the conversation turned to her, surprised with her sudden entrance.

  “What?” she said. “Rakel was being a horrible stagehand. I wanted to come see what had you all whispering like conspirators.”

  “The wall is a good idea,” Snorri said.

  “There, you see? If Snorri feels strongly enough to speak up, you know it must be brilliant.” Phile pumped her arm in triumph.

  “Could you do it, Princess?” Oskar asked.

  “Yes—unless the pass is bigger than the maps and descriptions have led me to believe,” Rakel said.

  “It might then be worth personally seeing to,” General Halvor said carefully.

  “If you still wish to, Princess,” Oskar added.

  “I do.”

  “We must move swiftly, if that is the case,” General Halvor said. “Snorri, please inform the Fireheart Squad of our departure.”

  “Fireheart Squad?” Oskar asked.

  “That’s Frodi, Eydìs, and Tollak, isn’t it?” Rakel asked, recalling the various teams in which General Halvor had placed the magic users.

  “Exactly so,” General Halvor said. “If you will excuse me, I will begin preparing our troops.” He bowed and then strode away, Snorri moving in his shadow.

  “Hmm, perhaps it would be for the best if I returned to my room and bothered Sirpa again. She might be able to tell me just when the mercenary troops will march on Begna,” Hilda said.

  Oskar offered her his arm. “I believe I have time to escort you to your room before preparing for the princess’s departure.”

  “Excellent!” Phile crowed. “Rakel, you can come with me.”

  “Where are you going?” Rakel asked as Oskar and Hilda began the trek to the palace.

  “Nowhere. I need to finish my story, or my audience will be disappointed, forever.”

  Rakel sighed. “I should have known better than to think you would do something in preparation.”

  “As long as I have Foedus and an eye on you, I’m ready for anything,” Phile promised, twirling her ugly, bug-shaped dagger. The weapon was infamous for its homeliness and the many stories Phile told of how it came to be in her possession. “Come on. I don’t know how long the children will be able to sit still until they resort to mischief.”

  “They aren’t like you,” Rakel said. “So it would be quite a while, I imagine.” She eyed Phile’s young audience, her expression softening when she saw Gerta and Kai sitting on the outskirts of the group.

  Gerta waved. “Princess! Come sit with us!”

  Phile swatted her hand at Rakel. “Go—but this time pay attention when I signal you!”

  Rakel reluctantly drew closer to the crowd of children, watching them for any signs of fear. Several of them threw quick bows in her direction, but most were focused on Phile as she climbed the ice platform Rakel had made for her. Several of the children were occupied with yanking on each other’s hair and pushing, but they quieted when Phile cleared her throat.

  “Princess,” Kai—a grave, adorable little boy—said. He stood to bow to Rakel.

  Rakel awkwardly stood until Gerta yanked on her arm, pulling her down to sit on the ground. Gerta climbed into her lap. “Phile is tellin’ us about the time you saved Grandmother! It’s so exciting!”

  Kai scooted closer, resembling a bear cub with his thick black jacket, pants, gloves, and hood. “I didn’t know Phile saw you free Vefsna.”

  “She didn’t,” Rakel said wryly. She looped her arms around Gerta and adjusted the little girl’s position so her hair wouldn’t tickle Rakel’s nose. Gerta giggled and hugged Rakel, making her smile.

  Just a few months ago, I never would have known how warm and precious a hug can be. The twelve years of her exile on Ensom Peak lurked in the back of her mind—an unpleasant reminder of how new the respect and loyalty she had won really was.

  But Gerta and Kai never feared me. They never hesitated to reach out for me. Warmed by the thought, Rakel impulsively placed an arm around Kai’s shoulders and pulled him in for a hug as well.

  Kai smiled at her and snuggled closer.

  “Thank you for waiting, children.” Phile leaned up against the ice carving Rakel had made of her. The sculpture was larger than life, but it captured the thief’s zest—though Rakel had ignored Phile’s request to make several handsome male sculptures to kneel at her feet.

  “I will now resume my tale. As I was saying, it was snowing heavily.”

  Rakel tapped her magic, and big, fat flakes of snow drifted down from the sky, falling on the children and the stage.

  The children clapped and cooed in admiration.

  Phile launched into her story, and Gerta leaned back and rested her head against Rakel’s shoulder.

  Her actions warmed Rakel and stirred up a pinprick of fear. They all put such hope in her, but Tenebris was truly a monster. Could she really beat him? Determination flooded her heart. I have to stop him from laying hold of that mirror.

  She smoothed Gerta’s hair.

  I will keep these children safe. No matter how much it costs.

  CHAPTER 2

  RAIDERS IN BEGNA

  The sleigh rocked side to side like a cradle as they whisked across snow-covered banks and hills. Rakel tapped her powers, breathing easier when they rushed through her.

  “You doing alright, Princess?” Oskar peered at her over his shoulder when he was able to spare a moment.

  “Yes. I’m just…preparing,” she said.

  Oskar tugged the reins and corrected the reindeer pulling their sleigh. “Don’t push yourself to exhaustion,” he said. “I know you wish to save everyone, but you shouldn’t sacrifice yourself so impulsively.”

  Rakel smiled fondly at her attendant’s back. “Thank you, Oskar.”

  Phile drew closer to their two-person sleigh. “Are we getting closer?” She was the only one mounted on a horse—which she had swiped from the Chosen army weeks ago—everyone else was in sleighs pulled by reindeer or fat mountain ponies.

  “I believe we should be able to see it once we get around this hill,” Oskar said.

  General Halvor, traveling at the head of the war party, halted his reindeer. “We’re late,” he said, his face grim. “The raiders have already started attacking.”

  Rakel leaned forward to watch when Begna finally fell in view. Normally, the village would have made an idyllic picture. Hills surrounded Begna, sheltering it from the worst of the winter winds; the border mountains dividing Verglas from Mullberg stood guard at its back. But the raiders ruined the pretty image. Clouds of smoke rose from Begna, and even from this distance Rakel could see the angry, crimson flames that devoured some of the buildings. There were no screams, but battle cries and roars of victory echoed off the hills. The scent of smoke burned her throat.

  Rakel’s left cheek twisted in anger, and she pulled on more of her magic.

  Tollak—a levelheaded man who held the curious magic of charming crafted goods—swung his gaze in Rakel’s direction. “Princess, may I inquire what you plan to do with such a hefty mass of magic?” His voice was polite and unflappable as if they were discussing what to have for afternoon tea.

  Rakel, a little surprised he was able to accurately sense how much magic she gathered, stared at the burning village. “It’s a warning.”

  “Brace yourselves!” Phile shouted—though she needn’t have bothered.

  Rakel had pinpoint control and accuracy over her magic, so when a stalagmite of ice the size of a mature oak tree shot out of the ground, it impaled a wagon the Chosen mercenary soldiers had brought to carry away supplies. The winds picked up, clouds turned an ominous gray, and sleet-like snowflakes pelted from the sky, stinging any bare skin.

  Rakel clenched her hands into fists, and several more stalagmites shot out of the ground, ruining the Chosen troops’ supply wagons.

  The victorious battle roars changed to panicked shouts, and General Halvor barked, “Take up your formations! Stand strong! Charge!”

  The Verglas sq
uadron of magic users and soldiers whisked out of the hills, sweeping down on Begna. Several soldiers armed with bows took shots at the mercenaries. Eydìs—a clever woman who could manipulate rope—breathed panic among the enemy when twine, straps, and rope laying among the wreckage sprung at them as if they were charmed snakes, dragging them down.

  Under Frodi’s direction, the fire crawled off the buildings and darted after screaming soldiers.

  When they drew close enough to Begna that Rakel could have hit the nearest cottage with a snowball, she shouted, “I don’t see any villagers.”

  Oskar’s green eyes traced the snowy ground and the food and materials trampled there. “There’s no blood, just spilled goods.”

  “They must be hiding,” Phile said.

  “How?” Rakel asked.

  Shouts and roars came from the forest.

  “Reform the lines. Brace for a second incoming!” General Halvor shouted to his men, who responded with calm, synchronized movements as they changed their formation.

  Rakel gathered her magic, preparing to box in the forest invaders with an ice cage, but when the armed forces burst out of the woods, one of the front soldiers carried a light blue flag emblazoned with a white snowflake and an ash gray reindeer.

  “For the Snow Queen!” they shouted as they swept down the hill, falling on the Chosen mercenaries.

  “It’s the resistance!” Knut—one of Rakel’s original guards from Ensom Peak—shouted, his gap-toothed smile flashing.

  “Push hard,” General Halvor said. “Run the mercenaries through Begna to the pass in the east.”

  Rakel held on as the sleigh made a sharp turn. Phile galloped past, leaping off her horse and launching herself onto a mercenary soldier.

  Frodi and Eydìs regrouped to push the mercenaries in the correct direction, and Rakel erected a thin wall of ice, blocking the west side of the village.

  General Halvor glanced at the structure. “Will that hold?”

  “Not if they bludgeon it, but I do not think they know that,” Rakel said.

  Previously the black-and-crimson-outfitted soldiers were smug and relaxed. Now they fought with grim ferocity.

  The resistance fighters joined General Halvor’s troops, creating a V-shape around Begna, pinching the mercenaries between them.