Halvor grunted and continued cleaning his weapons, unsurprised. Princess Rakel had been kept prisoner on Ensom for twelve years—and for five of those years, he and his men had been her jailers. There was no reason for her to risk herself for them.
Oskar gave Knut a withering glare. “Though frankly, I’m surprised she didn’t kill us all as your trigger-happy soldiershot ather.”
The soldier cringed. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“You almost shot aprincess, Knut. She is of royal blood, and I nearly had her support in saving the village. Sorry is theleastyou can feel,” the attendant snapped.
“You are dismissed, Knut. Try to get some rest before the attack,” Halvor said.
Oskar rubbed his eyes as the young soldier saluted and left. “She was almost with us, Halvor.”
“I cannot blame her for her decision, nor will I force her to die in a country that has done nothing but hate her. Before the attack begins, I will order my men to open the gates of her…enclosure.”
Oskar gave a croak of laughter. “As if that matchstick fence is what kept her here!”
“There is nothing more we can do,” Halvor said. “You asked, and she refused.”
“I know. But I wish it could have been different.” Oskar sighed, then slapped his knees. “I had best go prepare for battle myself. I’ll see you soon.”
Halvor nodded and watched his friend leave. He returned his attention to his sword, but he couldn’t shake the sense of regret.
If only things could have been different. If only we had acted differently.
For five years, he had guarded Princess Rakel. And for five years, she had done nothing to harm anyone. Never before was there a human more innocent of the hatred she faced.
She will live. The invaders will likely welcome her into their forces with open arms, or if she chooses to leave before they arrive, I imagine she will survive well enough on her own.
Halvor sheathed his sword and shook his head. He—and likely everyone in Fyran, including Oskar and his soldiers—would probably die tonight, and unfortunately, he had many regrets. He regretted that Verglas was lost and the future of its people was dire. He regretted that they hadn’t been able to defend it, and that people—good people—would pay for the pain and the sins committed against magic users. And most of all, he regretted that five years ago, he hadn’t believed in the scared girl and had never thought to set her free until it was too late.
Hours later,when Princess Rakel emerged from the woods, icy in her anger as she chased the Chosen forces from Fyran like the Snow Queen she was, hope would bloom in Halvor once more.
The End
CHAPTER 8
THE ATTENDANT’S STORY
Iactually wrote this short story before I even began writing Heart of Ice, when I was trying to flesh out my characters and nail down their motivations and personalities. Oskar’s loyalty to Rakel has been a key factor in his character since the day he showed up in my plans, so I really hope you enjoy this early peek at his life.
Oskar skidinto the palace kitchens, a smile on his face and his brilliant red hair mussed. “Anja, I’ve been sent ahead to tell you King Ingolfr is taking his lunch in his study today.” Oskar snatched up a few blueberries, grinning mischievously when one of the cooks rapped his knuckles with a wooden spoon.
“Oh, aye. Of course he would.” Anja grumbled and stirred a bowl of batter with unusual ferocity. Her normally sweet face was wrinkled like a dried prune.
Oskar munched on his blueberries and tilted his head. “Something wrong?”
“No, nothing at all. Not a single bloomin’ thing,” Anja said.
Her response confused Oskar. Anja was the head cook and was well known for her cinnamon rolls and her even temper. Since he started working at the palace several months prior, he hadn’t seen her snap at even the clumsiest of kitchen boys. And why would she be upset today? Queen Runa and the tiny Prince Steinar were gone for the week—it was practically a holiday for the kitchen staff as King Ingolfr entertained no one in the queen’s absence.
Gry—a young, pretty maid-in-training—leaned into Oskar and whispered. “She’s a magic sympathizer.”
Anja slapped her wooden bowl of batter on the counter with a crack. “Enough of your whispering, Gry,” she warned.
Gry curtsied and darted out of the kitchen.
Oskar, however, was intrigued.A magic sympathizer?Is there such a thing when magic is universally hated?He scratched his cheek and slowly sidled up to Anja.
Anja caught his look and brandished a wooden spoon at him. “Not today, Oskar. I haven’t time for any of your pretty words or the tricks you use to make everyone gooey and warm with you.”
