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The maps had all made the journey look like a death trap to Elma. First, the narrow road down from the Frost Citadel, and then a storm-stricken pass through the mountains, before the journey took them across the most hazardous of all, the Frozen Sea — the plane of glasslike ice, never melting, miles and miles of open land without any landmarks, and noprotection from attack. This was the place where travelers got lost and froze to death on the ice. Where creatures, spirits, and demons came out of the fog; Slödavans wielding Rime Ice.
Elma imagined an army of men like Edvin, eyes gleaming blue, blades of ice bursting out from their fists like magic. Would it feel cold against her skin, biting like frost? Would it freeze the blood on contact? Or did it behave like any other weapon?
And then, if they survived the Frozen Sea, a great city would rise up from the ice — at least, it appeared imposing on the maps. Like a cluster of blade-like icicles bursting upward, out of the snow: Slödava. A mystery that remained unseen to most.
A tickle of something like curiosity fluttered in Elma’s stomach. What would it look like, that fabled city? She had always imagined it as sinister, overrun with brutal men, a monument to hatred and war. But now, knowing Rune…
“Majesty, it is time.” Godwin’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, his solid presence anchoring her to the present moment. He had personally overseen that the traveling party be outfitted with provisions, ensuring everything was up to his standards. Unrest pooled in the depths of his eyes. “A storm is coming from the southeast. If you leave now, you will avoid the worst of it on the mountain pass.”
Elma gripped Godwin’s arm with steady fingers. His face was worn and dangerous, as it had always been, but there was a kindness there. “I will make Rothen proud,” she said, and she was just a girl then, assuring her uncle.
“You have always made me proud,” Godwin said, and his voice caught on the last word as if some strong emotion threatened to break his stolid demeanor.
A knot formed in Elma’s throat. There was nothing more to say. She moved to the carriage, allowing her men to helpher inside. There were pillows and hot stones waiting to keep her comfortable, and skins of spiced wine. Rolled-up maps in leather casings were arranged in one corner, as she had requested. Otherwise, the carriage was empty. Cora would not be joining her — the journey was too dangerous, and Elma had asked enough of her attendant already.
As soon as she had settled herself in the carriage, with a creak of wood and leather and the jangling of horses’ harnesses, they began the journey. Horns rang out from the citadel, and flags hung from the battlements. Even her own carriage was decked out in the Volta colors, flags streaming from every surface. If Slödavans attacked on the road, this was meant to deter them — attack this carriage, and you attack the kingdom of Rothen. But Elma felt distinctly like a hare caught in the sights of a hawk.
The long, treacherous ride down from the Frost Citadel went without incident. Elma went through an entire skin of wine in the descent, but she deemed it a necessary loss. She had been glad Rune rode horseback with the other guards so he couldn’t see her terror as the carriage rocked and swayed along the sheer cliff.
But now, as they made their way along the frozen road that would lead them through the Hell Gate between the mountains, Elma wished he was with her.
If the traveling party kept up their pace, they would reach the pass just before sundown. They would cross it at first light the next morning, and if all went well, just a few hours after that, they would descend to the Frozen Sea.
Elma couldn’t help but think of all the things that might befall them on the way. Wolves swarming out from the scrubby alpine forests, highwaymen who built homes out of ice and waited for travelers to murder and rob, the unthinkable things that came only at the edges of reality.
I can’t do this, Elma thought, her fingers twisting in the tassel of a pillow. She had to see the sky, the road before them. Sitting in that dim carriage, warm and queenly as it was, felt like tumbling blindly into a world of horrors.
Lifting the window latch, Elma leaned her head out and said, “Stop the carriage a moment.”
“Stop the carriage!” came the cries from her men. “The Queen orders a halt!”
Rune and Luca appeared then, concern written on their faces. Luca dismounted and bowed, approaching the carriage window. “What is it, Your Majesty?”
“I wish to ride outside. On horseback.”
Luca blinked. “But it’s much safer—”
“It wasn’t a request,” Elma said.
Behind the guard, still mounted, Rune smirked.
Luca’s expression tightened into unease. “I would much prefer it, Majesty, if you were well ensconced. The dangers…”
“I would prefer to see the dangers coming, Luca, rather than wait for them inside a wooden box. You know I can defend myself.”
Her guard’s expression closed, an empty mask. “You are the Queen of Rothen.”
Elma couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Move aside, Luca. I’m coming out.” She pushed open the carriage door and jumped down daintily, landing on hard-packed snow. She had dressed appropriately for travel — leather boots and leggings, a woolen tunic, thickly padded surcoat, and her warmest fur cloak. Riding would not be a problem.
“Your queen wishes to ride,” Luca said, his voice carrying to the rest of the traveling party. “Bring one of the spare horses.”
The spare horses were already saddled; there could be nodelays in their journey. And so, Elma swung into the saddle, settling herself with a deep, grateful inhale.
Luca frowned deeply. Rune grinned at her.
“Thank you, Luca,” said Elma, gripping the reins in one gloved hand, raising the other above her head. “Onward.”
With the word from their queen, the procession started up again. But this time, rather than trapped and vaguely afraid, Elma’s lungs filled with vital air, her cheeks pinkened in the cold. This was unlike anything she had ever felt in Rothen, unlike the cold of the arena, the courtyards in the citadel. She felt alive and awake, cradled in the arms of her frozen kingdom.
