“Food is scarce in Frost,” I say. “Recent times have been even harder.”
She presses her hands to her stomach. “Did I consume a feast?”
I incline my head. There’s no sense denying it. “Last winter, I was forced to send Lilis with a legion of soldiers into the Iron Kingdom to raid their grain supplies. It’s too cold to grow wheat in Frost, so we make flour from tubers, but a rot had spread through our crops. I had no choice but to resort to stealing.
“During one of those incursions, Antony’s sister, Cassia, happened to be visiting the outpost that Lilis struck. I’m sure you know that Cassia is a skilled fighter, so the fight between them was brutal.”
Thyra’s expression softens. “Cassia’s fierce and kind. And loyal to her brother.”
“As loyal as Antony was to her.” I speak even more softly than before, acutely aware that mentioning Antony’s name causes Thyra’s heartbeats to become heavy and her cheeks to pale despite the warmth in the room.
Keeping my expression blank, I continue. “Antony didn’t take kindly to Lilis’s attack on Cassia. The next time Lilis struck, Antony was waiting. Lilis was lucky to escape with her life that day.”
“He would have assumed she came to assassinate Cassia. And possibly him.”
I can only nod. “I didn’t order Lilis to end Antony or Cassia, but she wouldn’t have hesitated to try.”
“Your people…their hunger…” Thyra closes her eyes. Then presses her hand to her stomach again. “I know how it feels to go hungry.” A frustrated sigh leaves her lips. “The Iron Kingdom has so much food. There’s a fruit called a thistleberry that grows on trees and fills your stomach like you’ve eaten a full meal. Did you ever consider?—”
But she falls silent.
I already told her I sent soldiers to steal food. As nice as it would be to think that thistleberry trees would grow in Frost, that isn’t possible.
Of all the other options she might have been about to voice, I anticipate the most fraught. “Did I ever consider asking Antony for help?”
Speaking that course of action aloud makes my jaw clench. To be beholden to the Iron King would have given IkerSilversten all he would have needed to challenge me for the throne. No Winter Strife necessary.
Let alone the problem of giving the Iron King power over me.
Thyra tips up her chin, defiant. “I’m not talking about help. I’m talking about making a deal. A trade. Offering Antony something he might want.”
I return her gaze, struck by the memory of Antony calling Thyra hishope.
Simply by listening to her, I could believe she has answers. That she could lay out a path in front of me that would give me everything I want and need.
“The Iron Kingdom has no use for snow,” I snarl. “I have nothing else to offer.”
“Not true.” She catches her breath. “You could have granted Antony freedom from his stepmother.”
My forehead puckers. “How so?”
“Your Voice,” she says, refusing to release me from her gaze, her blue eyes becoming harder. More determined. “You could have captured Galla Vividari, kept her in a tower on the border, and used your Voice to compel her to banish the dark each night.”
I can only stare at Thyra.
The sheer boldness of what she’s describing tightens my throat.
Impossible. It never would have worked. Nothing is ever that simple.
“He would have given you the Iron Kingdom’s surplus grain supplies in a heartbeat,” Thyra says with a certainty that makes me question myself.
If I imagine even for a second that she’s right… If I dare to believe my Voice could have become a gift, a way to feed my people, instead of being something they fear…
I shake my head. “There would have been consequences. Foreseen and unforeseen.”
“Trying to steal the grain had consequences, too,” she says.
I can’t deny it, but I remain firm. “We could never have cooperated. No matter what we needed.”
