“Perhaps you are right, General. Normally, you would never make such a rank because it seems the Verglas army does not reward those who act with honor. Unfortunately—though both the army as well as myself are reluctant to admit it—Iam the driving force behind this resistance. In order to face the Chosen army, I—and other Verglas magic users—are necessary. If ranking officers and liaisons of the army cannot work with us, we will fail, and Verglas will be taken. I chose to make you a general because I am confident in your skills, and I know you are a man to be trusted and respected. So, you have a choice, Halvor. Do you want to free Verglas, or do you wish to follow protocol?”
The silence after her words was long and heavy, and she soon started to feel uncomfortable.Did I say something wrong?
“I’m not worthy, Princess,” Halvor said. Rakel opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. “Because I shouldn’t have kept you locked in the mountains for the five years I stood watch. I should have let you go.”
The fight went out of her. “You have no reason to feel guilty. I could have escaped any moment I wanted to.”
“That’s no excuse. I was wrong—our country was wrong.”
Rakel offered him a fragile smile. “If I thought you had wronged me, Halvor, I never would have stayed with you through Fyran, and I certainly wouldn’t have made you general.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Halvor said. He smiled at her, and then offered her a salute—not a bow, but a salute: his personal mark of respect.
Rakel hesitated, then reached out and touched the fingertips of his free hand, squeezing them. “I should return to the party. Oskar will lecture me for skipping out. You should come as well. Oskar can tell you everyone you need to talk to.”
Halvor brushed at his clothes—which were smudged with boot polish. “I shall follow you in a few minutes.”
“Good—oh, but Halvor?”
Halvor paused, halfway into his room. “Yes, Princess?”
“Do you know where Phile is?”
“I believe she said she was going on a hunting trip.”
“So you are talking to her again?”
“No, Princess. She announced it to the room.”
Rakel held in a snort, but she expressed her amusement through a small grin. “I see. Thank you, General.”
“It is my honor, Princess.”
Rakel smiled—refreshedwith the bright sun, the chilly air, and the gleeful laughter of Gerta and Kai—and let her shoulders relax.
Halvor and Oskar were hard at work, taking inventory of the army supplies, stock, and soldiers, leaving Rakel free for the day.
“Let’s make snow angels, Kai!”
Free to enjoy the winter weather.
“Your clothes are too thick to make a proper snow angel. It will appear misshapen.”
Free to not have to think of her magic and the deadly ways she could wield it.
“Then how about a snowman?”
“The snow is too light and will not pack—though I believe we could petition Princess Rakel to change this.”
Free of the chaos and craziness that had ruled her life for weeks now.
“Looook ooooout!”
When Rakel realized she knew that voice, and that voice implied that her carefree day was in danger, she snapped to attention.
Phile—clinging to the back of a massive, velvet-brown reindeer—galloped in their direction.
“Do you have a clear shot?” Rakel asked Knut—the leader of three soldiers who wandered with her and the children as her “guard.”
