“It was a poor replica. I am certain I forged it wrong,” Rakel said.
“It doesn’t matter if the sword was balanced or not. When faced with a cloud of ice pikes, even the best swordsman will tremble in his boots,” Oskar said.
“Don’t worry,” Phile smiled. “We can work together to come up with all sorts of fearsome attacks. You will enjoy it.”
Rakel frowned. “I find that unlikely.”
“There is another thing that should be discussed,” Captain Halvor said, carefully. “Princess…when you fell unconscious, was it due to blood loss…or your limit?”
Rakel’s frown deepened. “Neither, I think. Though my wounds were painful, they were not deep. I did not feel lightheaded at the time.”
“But it had to be your magic. You used too much,” Phile said.
“No. Building the wall did not tax my magic. I had plenty left. It must be my price. Could it be that I fall unconscious whenever I use a sizeable portion of my magic instead of a loss of energy, or something else similar?” Rakel asked.
“It is plausible,” Oskar said.
“It has never happened previously, and I’ve been using my magic for years.”
“Yes, but have you used as much as you flashed around yesterday?” Phile asked, tapping her nose. “Even before you built your monolith of a wall—which was wretchedly cold, I’ll have you know—you were throwing magic left and right.”
“Phile mentioned the cold, and I agree. Your ice-castle feels like normal ice. That wall…” Captain Halvor shook his head.
“It was a frozen temperature I’ve never experienced,” Oskar said.
Rakel frowned.I hope that’s not my price. Pain I could endure, but being knocked unconscious for a time in which I am out of control? That is unacceptable.
“It’s something to keep in mind,” Captain Halvor said. “Particularly if we are to try to march against Glowma.”
“Weare,” Rakel said, iron in her voice.
“Perhaps,” Oskar said, “but even with the revelation of your powers, we cannot attempt to take back Ostfold in time to save—” Someone knocked at the door. “Are we expecting company?” he asked.
Captain Halvor gripped the hilt of his sword. “No,” he said as he moved to the door. He opened it, revealing Snorri with a middle-aged woman and three soldiers standing behind him.
Snorri saluted and stood in the doorway. “Sir, we wish to have an audience with you and Princess Rakel, outside,” he said, more articulate than usual.
“Now?” Captain Halvor asked.
“It’s important, sir.”
Captain Halvor turned to appeal to Rakel, but she was already standing. “It’s fine, Captain. Snorri was the reason Phile found the information about yesterday’s march against our encampment.”
“Don’t undermine my work,” Phile complained. She nudged Snorri aside and led the way out of the room.
Oskar, however, was not quite so forgiving—probably because Snorri was one of the soldiers to secure him during the previous night. “What is it, Snorri?” he asked, his voice like the howling wind of a winter storm as they gathered in the middle of the road.
Snorri—and the woman and soldiers—bowed at the waist. “We would like to offer our services to you, Princess Rakel.”
“Are you sure you want to talk out in the open?” Phile asked as she inspected the bustling outpost.
Rakel ignored her friend. “You have already served me well, Snorri.”
“As magic users,” Snorri said.
Rakel blinked. “What?”
“As magic users,” Snorri said, his voice surprisingly loud and clear.
