I tried not to gawk as I followed my family through their castle. It was my first time to the Kingdom of the North—a fact which had gone unnoticed, but that was understandable given the circumstances. The Northern Castle was as luxurious as the South's but in addition to the vaulted ceilings, polished stone floors, and stained glass windows that could be found in the Southern Stronghold, there was a multitude of plants. Enough greenery to change the atmospheric conditions. The air was fresh and slightly humid.
Sunlight streamed in through high windows and the occasional balcony, both of which provided glimpses of mountains to either side of the castle. Courtiers in fine clothing congregated in the grand halls, all of them pausing to bow or curtsy as we passed. Everan received a few wary looks along with the obeisance. He had a reputation as a brutal warrior who took whatever he wanted, including me. It was the sort of rumor that had been based on truth and then exaggerated. Everan could indeed be brutal, and he had absolutely kidnapped me and forced me to marry him, but he had reasons for everything he'd done and he was not someone I'd call unreasonable or a warmonger. Part of me was offended by the way the Northern Danutians stared at him, but the other part knew that being feared wasn't always a bad thing. In a society where might made right, it could be a valuable weapon or, at the very least, a shield.
But these were my people in a way. This castle had been my mother's home. I peered around again, trying to imagine her striding through the vast halls full of flourishing plants, wearing her Danutian gowns and a soft smile. I didn't have any pictures of her—they had all been lost in the fire—so all I had were memories from childhood and those are notoriously poor. There were a few that I held onto desperately—staring up at her while she held me, walking beside her while holding her hand, and one precious memory of her laughing—but mainly, I remembered what she looked like the day she died. I see her terrified face and hear her screams—hear her begging not for herself but for her husband's life. It's hard to imagine her in this glorious castle, far from the touch of assassin hands.
I stopped walking suddenly.
My grandparents and uncle didn't. I heard Everan clear his throat and saw them turnaround in the corner of my eye, but most of my attention was fixed on an enormous painting. We were in the entrance hall, nearly to the front doors. We had just descended a flight of stairs and come out on a landing, where two sets of stairs converged into one. The painting hung on the wall backing this landing. It was twice as tall as I and framed in heavily carved and gilded wood. In it, the King and Queen of the North sat on their thrones—great, golden things that matched the frame—and their children stood to either side of them.
My mother had her hand on the back of her father's throne and a small crown of golden leaves atop her head. She was dressed in pale pink, a color that complimented the flush in her cheeks. Her blonde hair hung in glorious waves around her and she smiled demurely. She didn't look much like her twin brother or even her mother, for that matter. Her face was both strong and kind and there was a rebellious lift to her chin. People had always told me that I looked like my mother—Everan had recognized me because of it—but I only had those hazy memories to go by and I had never noted the resemblance in them. I saw it now.
“Are you all right, Shalani?” Everan whispered as his hand trailed down the back of my arm.
“Yes,” I whispered back. “I've... I don't have any pictures of her.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” my grandmother cooed as she stepped up beside me. “I didn't know. I would have sent you one of her portraits if I had. But then, all you have to do is look in a mirror to see her face.”
“I've heard that so many times but I never knew how true it was,” I murmured.
“Your mother was lovely,” Everan agreed. “But you are even lovelier.”
“If not for the color of her hair and eyes, we could be twins,” I protested.
“Your eyes are slightly larger, your brows lift at the ends, your cheekbones are higher, and your lips more full,” Everan listed off our differences as if he'd been studying them for a test.
My grandparents, uncle, and I all gaped at him.
Everan cleared his throat. “Love makes a man notice such things.”
King Benalt laughed, his stare softening on Everan. “I suppose it does.” Then he looked back at the portrait. “As a father, I can see that there are very slight differences, but my love—as opposed to yours—makes those details fade.” He turned to me and laid his palm on my cheek. “I see Lauranta in you and it's a great comfort to me.”
“But you can do so much more than your mother, Amara,” Nial noted. “And we need your talents now.”
“I'm at your disposal.” I straightened, took one last look at my mother, and waved my grandparents ahead of me.
My grandmother kissed my cheek before she took her husband's arm. They descended the last flight of stairs with Everan and me just behind them and Uncle Nial taking up the rear. A pair of liveried footmen opened the double doors of the castle entrance for us, and we stepped out onto a colossal stone bridge. It extended at least 300 feet across a deep ravine and was wide enough for three Danutian carriages to be set end-to-end. Only one waited for us, though. It was Cinderella's carriage done in silver but without the team of white horses. A driver sat atop a platform in front, his hands already resting on the steering wheel.
A team of knights on silver chargers—chargers are the motorcycles I mentioned earlier—waited in formation beyond the carriage, facing away from the castle. To either side of them and the bridge, steep mountains rose from the ravine to snowy heights. The castle was cradled in their stony embrace, its foundation sweeping down to merge with the mountains. Across the ravine, the bridge connected us to a road that divided yet another mountain. As far as defenses went, the Northern Castle dominated the game. As far as surviving an avalanche, not so much.
As we stepped toward the waiting carriage, the mountains around us started to rumble.
Chapter Five
Everyone went still and stared around themselves. The Danutians looked as if they were trying to figure out what the sound was—as if they couldn't even conceive of it coming from the mountains. But I knew immediately what that ominous rumble portended. I stared up at the mountain peaks, searching for any sign of movement. And I found it. The snow atop the mountains to our left shivered, cracked, and began to slide in great sheets down the sheer drops. They crumbled as they fell, turning into a white spray that looked soft from a distance. How very misleading.
I tried to judge how far the avalanche would get—if it would make it to the castle or not. Although I called it a castle, it was technically a palace since there was no curtain wall protecting it. The mountains took the place of the castle's outer wall but the mountains had just turned traitor.
“It's an avalanche!” I shouted over the growing thunder of sliding snow caps and pointed at the peak.
“Call every Danutian in the castle to action!” King Benalt commanded one of the soldiers. “We need everyone to help us hold back the snow!”
Even as my grandfather barked orders, soldiers swarmed out of the castle to line the bridge. So far, only the peaks to the left had shed their caps but with all that rumbling, the mountains to the right wouldn't be far behind. The Northern Knights braced themselves, legs wide apart like sailors, and stretched their arms out toward the oncoming avalanche. My grandparents, uncle, and even Everan joined the knights, taking up similar positions. The air before them blurred, going hazy with magical energy.
I remained where I was, standing behind them and feeling utterly useless. I may be half Danutian but my magic had been altered into color manipulation and color magic couldn't stop several tons of snow. I might be able to make avalanche appear to vanish but that would hardly be useful. So, I watched impotently as Danutians appeared at windows, towers, and on the castle ramparts. They lifted their hands and joined their magic to the force on the bridge.
The air went thick and shimmered with massive power. It prickled my skin and tightened my muscles. Then, as if some signal had been given, the Danutians leaned forward simultaneously, pushing their magic outward in a single blow. The snow rocketed toward us, gathering boulders as it came. The boulders cracked like thunder as they struck the mountainside and brought down more of it, some of them becoming enormous snowballs. The bridge began to tremble. Thunderous cracking turned into a deafening roar. No one spoke or shouted or even screamed. Every eye and every ounce of elemental magic was focused on the fall.
It came at us like froth—bubbling and spraying and spitting. Magic met it like a shoved shield. Snow vaulted upward, some of it melting thanks to Everan's contribution. Rocks smashed against the invisible wall, creating explosions of stone and dirt. Hundreds of Danutians held firm against the onslaught. The wave of snow flattened into a sheet and rose along the magical barrier to turn over upon itself. As it did, I heard the mountain behind me moan.
