“Because the Snow Queen liked reindeer and snow,” Gemma said, as if her intended was stupid.
“Did you two need something?” King Toril asked.
“Exactly!” Stil rocked back on his heels and shook his copy of King Steinar’s journal. “King Steinar recognized the reindeer as the kingdom’s official emblem, but it wasn’t his idea, it was the commoners’. When the peasants began to fight back and resist the magical invaders the Snow Queen faced, they rallied under banners of reindeer and snowflakes. And all these centuries later, her legacy still stands. You still have records about her, and you remember her.”
“But that doesn’t make up for what we did,” Gemma argued.
“Are you still talking about the Snow Queen?” King Toril asked.
“I don’t think you understand, Gemma, just how rare Verglas’ deep loyalty is,” Stil said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Other countries have heroes, as well. Loire has the Girl and the Glass Coffin. Sole has the Queen of Hearts. Erlauf has the Trieux princess who forged their incredible army…each country has its heroes. But they are little more than legends. Most folk don’t even know their names. The Snow Queen, though…you have kept her close to your heart. You told me yourself: you did not rebel against Torgen because he is of King Steinar’s line—the line of Princess Rakel’s brother—and you have absolute loyalty to her, even centuries after her death.” Stil cut off his impassioned speech. He marched up to Gemma and placed his hands on her shoulders.
“The real test of love and loyalty is time, Gemma. At the beginning of her life, the Snow Queen was mistreated, yes, but she is the only individual in the whole continent—alive or dead—who has inspired loyalty and love forgenerations. And although we mages and magic users revere her, I think she would be more moved by Verglas and your fierce love.”
Gemma’s lower lip trembled with emotion, and Stil embraced her, wrapping her in a hug that warmed every part of her body.
“Ahem.” King Toril said.
Embarrassed, Gemma pulled back from Stil. She pressed her lips together and fought a blush. Stil, however, was unbothered. “King Toril,” he smiled. “How can I help you?”
King Toril’s usual expression of good cheer looked forced for a moment. “You are discussing the Snow Queen,” he said.
“Yes,” Stil said.
“Then I have something to show you.” King Toril motioned for them to follow. He left the throne room and strolled down several twisting hallways that were spotted with guards. Gemma recognized the area as being the private quarters of the royal family—Linnea had hauled her inside it several times since her engagement.
“Here we go.” King Toril entered his personal study. He walked to one of his bookshelves that was pressed against the wall and flicked some kind of switch that made it swing back, revealing what looked like a shallow closet. “They used to be on public display, but my great-grandfather—or was it my great-great-grandfather?—hid them during his reign. He was a bit paranoid and feared someone would steal them.” Toril’s upper body disappeared into the closet, and he sneezed in the dust he raised. “Theft isn’t a legitimate concern anymore, so I’ve been thinking I should bring them back out, but I haven’t found the right occasion. Watching you two, though, made me realize something.”
Gemma glanced at Stil, but he was busy trying to peer over Toril’s shoulder to see into the hidden space. “What did you realize?” she asked.
Toril straightened. “That we need to remember the complete picture of the Snow Queen’s life—from her exile to her position of honor. You fear she didn’t know how much all of Verglas loved her, don’t you, Gemma?”
“Yes,” Gemma whispered.
Toril smiled. “I can tell you with great assurance: she knew. She and her husband, Farrin Graydim, both enjoyed the long lives Enchanters and Enchantresses frequently have. At the end of their lives, they publically left their two most precious treasures to the royal family. Though, at that point, it was her great-nephew and great-niece who ruled.”
From the darkened space of the closet, Toril pulled out a two-handed broadsword. It was an older, cruder model than most of the swords used by modern armies, but it had not a fleck of rust on it.
“The sword of Farrin Graydim,” Stil breathed. He reached out to touch it, smiling with delight when Toril offered it to him, hilt first.
Toril reached into the space again and this time brought out a crown crafted to resemble a ring of silver snowflakes: the crown of the Snow Queen.
Gemma blinked, fighting tears.
“Over her life, Princess Rakel was given precious jewels and treasures, rare artifacts, priceless books, and costly clothes,” Toril said, his voice kind and soft. “And over all of that, she most treasured the crown that marked her as a princess of Verglas. She knew, Gemma. It’s why she faced the dark magic users and embedded her power into the land.” He offered her the crown, and Gemma took it with shaking hands.
She smiled. The Snow Queen, Princess Rakel of Verglas, had used everything she had to protect Verglas.
I may not have magic, and I’m only a seamstress, but I will protect our country. I’ll fight whatever darkness we face now, and I will see this through!
Standing there, holding the Snow Queen’s crown, Gemma’s heart sang.The Snow Queen…she knew.
The End
CHAPTER 7
