Rakel glanced fondly at the throne her brother had made for her—a glass creation that was sculpted to resemble ice—and peered around the busy room.
It bustled with advisors and government officials. The constant murmurs of the workers was a soft, humming backdrop. Steinar, Rakel’s little brother, was at the center of it all. He was not on his throne, but stood in the middle of the room, speaking with two of his advisors. To Rakel’s admittedly prejudice eyes, he looked regal and confident, his blue eyes lit with intelligence and patience and complemented by the golden crown that sat on his brow.
Ensign Topi approached the king and bowed. “Your Majesty, I have brought Princess Rakel, as you commanded.”
Steinar smiled. “Thank you, Topi. Welcome, sister. We have a rather unusual visitor.”
Rakel nodded. “A refugee, Topi mentioned as much.”
Magic user refugees weren’t exactly common—for only a small percentage of the continent’s population was born with magical abilities—but whenever they fled to Verglas, they always came in groups. Asinglerefugee successfully fleeing to their lands had never been encountered before.
“She is unusual,” Steinar said. “But when you meet her, I think you will understand how she managed such a feat alone.”
“She?” Farrin asked.
Steinar nodded. “Come. We’ll meet her out by the lake.” He turned and made his apologies to his advisors before leading the way from the room.
Rakel blinked as they were joined by half a dozen guards. “Topi said she was with you.”
“She was,” Steinar said cheerfully. “But she has a gift to give us, and due to its nature, she suggested we adjourn outdoors. Oskar thought it would be best to agree to her request.”
“Oskar was with you?” Farrin asked.
“He joined us shortly after I sent Topi to find Rakel,” Steinar said. He laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I would almost say he has magical powers that let him know whenever there is a matter that directly involves you, Sister.”
“I’m afraid he’s only fiendishly clever,” Farrin said.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Rakel said.
“It is only that I am uncomfortably aware that if he did not approve of me, my campaign to win your affections would have likely gone very poorly,” Farrin said.
Rakel frowned at him, but Steinar snorted. “You can’t deny he excessively dotes on you,” the young king said as he led them down a winding stairway.
He was right—though Rakel felt likemostpeople unfairly doted on her these days, Steinar and Farrin included. She knew from experience it would be fruitless to point this out, so she chose to change the topic. “What magic does the refugee possess?”
Steinar rolled his shoulders back as they strolled down a hallway and trooped through a side door of the castle, escaping into a floral-scented garden. “I believe she is like Farrin—skilled in several areas, most of them involving combat or field abilities.”
Oskar and General Halvor stood on the shore of the aqua blue lake that had once been a glacier Rakel had created during the retaking of Ostfold. With them was an unusual woman.
Her hair was brown with a hint of red to it—like a log burned to cinders. Her eyes were brown, and her facial features were fine and pretty, almost like a doll’s, which was at odds with the wide stance in which she stood. She wore a periwinkle tunic and trousers with leather boots that rose up to her thighs. Her clothes had once been luxurious, though they looked a little bedraggled and stained now. A quiver was strapped to her back; several daggers, a hunting horn, and a skein of water hung from her belt, and she held a beautiful bow.
When she saw Rakel, Farrin, and Steinar, she bowed deeply. “Princess, King,” she murmured. She kept bowing even as Steinar picked his way around the pebble-strewn shore to stand with General Halvor, leaving Rakel and Farrin alone standing before her.
“What is your name?” Rakel glanced at the guards, who hung back a fair distance to keep from intruding on the conversation.
“Laryn, Princess.” She finally stood straight again. “I’m from Clarus; I was King Mauro’s expert huntsman.”
Farrin tilted his head. “Your magic?”
“My arrows always find their target, and my senses are stronger than average,” Laryn said.
“I assume Mauro did not dismiss you?” Rakel asked.
Laryn hesitated, then slowly shook her head. “I fled.” She nervously looked from Rakel to General Halvor and Steinar. “But I will not bring King Mauro’s anger down on Verglas. I faked a hunting accident. He should believe I am dead.”
There was growing concern that the magical refugees, welcomed as they were, would bring the wrath of the other countries down upon Verglas. General Halvor had done little more than mention it on two separate occasions, but Rakel knew it was a legitimate worry.
Thankfully, it seemed none of the countries minded—yet. Whether it was because they knew of Rakel’s power, or they simply didn’t care what happened to the magic users they abused, she did not know.
