Rakel sat up before she could even open her eyes and blindly threw out daggers of ice in fear and panic.
“Rakel—Little Wolf!Stop—you’re safe!”
Someone shook her by the shoulders as her eyes finally focused.
Phile sat on the edge of the bed, her grip on Rakel still firm. She was in a room—not the plain encampment room—but a bedroom that had simple wooden furniture, a cheerfully lit fireplace, and a number of shredded pillows that had ice sticking from them like arrow shafts.
Gerta and Kai peered out from behind the ruined pillows, their delight brightening their faces even though Rakel had nearly hurt them. “You woke up!” Gerta chirped, throwing herself on the floor by the bed.
“I don’t know if ‘woke’ rightly describes it,” Phile snorted. She released Rakel and patted her on the head. “How do you feel?”
Rakel placed a hand over her erratically beating heart. “Confused.”
“Do you hurt anywhere? Do you have any pain?” Phile asked.
Rakel shook her head.
“Good.”
“How long was I sleeping?” Rakel asked.
“A day!” Gerta said.
“Almosta day,” Kai said, gravely shaking his head. “You were just a few hours short.”
Rakel grimaced. “Longer than the last time, then.”
“Yes, but you used a lot of your magic—not only during the battle, but when you were fine-tuning your ability to produce ice swords,” Phile said.
“Should I go get some stew for the princess, Mistress Robber Maiden? I imagine she will soon be quite hungry,” Kai said.
“Please. Gerta, would you get her something to drink?”
“Aye-aye, Captain!” Gerta said, snapping a salute with her wrong hand. She trundled out of the room after Kai, humming as she went.
“Where am I?” Rakel eased back down in the bed, recovering her breath from her bout of panic.
“Glowma. We took the city after you scared most of the soldiers outta town.”
“I remember that. What happened to Farrin and the other mages?
“Frodi got them out with his fire magic. He almost made himself sick eating a pot of stew—that’s part of his rules for magic: he can’t cast more energy than he’s consumed—but he got them out by sunset.”
“But what about Farrin?”
“Ah, yes. Ragnar’s elf-warrior friend took care of him.”
“Did you sayelfwarrior?”
“Mhhmm. Mystical being—real big into trees and such. You haven’t heard of them before?”
“No.”Rakel flattened her lips, disappointed with her ignorance.I will research them when this war is over.
“Can’t say I’m surprised—they’re rarer than a unicorn sighting—but I thought with all your book reading you might have seen something. Anyway, Farrin put up a good fight and got her pretty good a few times, but she struck him unconscious right after your grand finale. His little minions took him and ran.”
“And Captain Halvorletthem?”
“He didn’t make the call. He’s been in the infirmary with a thigh wound—he’s fine, but he lost an unhealthy amount of blood and was out of it.”
