AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Remember your father’s mission of peace,” Rune said softly. “If your father’s own actions were shielded from you with ease, just think what generations of Volta monarchs might achieve. One misunderstanding and two kingdoms can so easily turn on one another. A grudge sits comfortably in one man’s heart, but to convince his children and his children’s children to cling to such poison… that is no easy feat. The Volta have always been determined, and well-versed in the art of bitterness and resentment.”
Elma gazed up at the statue’s face, her stone eyes turned ever southward. “You have to understand how difficult this is for me to hear,” she said, “let alone believe.”
Rune turned to her. “I brought you to this courtyard because I used to come here as a boy. I’d stare up at this statue, this eternal queen, and wonder who she was. As if she was real and not just some hunk of rock. I wondered what she believed in. I had this ridiculous idea in my head of a queen so brave, so defiant in the face of the inevitable, that she would do anything to uphold what she believed was right. My imaginary queen was idealistic, probably to a fault. But I wanted so badly to be her or to love her. I don’t know which. Both, perhaps. But I can tell you that my idea of this perfect queen,the projection of a woman who didn’t exist… she reminds me painfully of you.”
Elma recoiled at this pronouncement. “Of me?” she said. “I’m no idealist. You heard what I said back there at the tavern. This mission of peace was—”
“Selfish, yes, and so forth. You say that, but I don’t think you believe it.”
The words hung between them. Elma knew what she believed and what was important to her. She knew what she’d lay down her life to achieve. Above all, she knew that she wanted to be a good queen. Perhaps she always had, in some way. Until recently, her father and the Volta name had kept her trapped in an unseen cage of inevitable cruelty, that being a Queen of Rothen meant gripping her subjects in an iron fist, calling for blood with wild abandon. But now… seeing Slödava, its unearthly beauty, the people so unlike the thoughtless creatures her father had described, she knew what kind of queen she would be.
“I don’t want to rule the way my father did,” Elma said at last.
Rune smiled. “That much is obvious.”
They stood in companionable silence for a moment, studying the statue. Elma glanced sidelong at Rune, his moonlit profile, his snow-white hair. She wanted to let him in altogether, to trust him in the way he seemed to trust her. But so much of him, his life, was still a mystery.
“When were you going to tell me about Rime Ice?” Elma asked.
He didn’t turn to her, kept his gaze on the statue, but raised his brows slightly. “I’m shocked it took you this long to ask.”
Elma pursed her lips. “I’ve been somewhatdistracted.”
Laughing, he spun to face her. “I suppose you noticed it’s actually magic.”
“I saw enough men fall to your glowing ice blade to draw that conclusion, yes,” she said, crossing her arms. “But… why keep that a secret from Rothen? We’ve been at your doorstep for decades, trying to steal it for ourselves. My father was obsessed with Rime Ice. If he’d known it was magic…”
“You think he would have called a happy truce and become my mother’s best friend?” Rune said, sardonic. “I’m not sure your father didn’t know the truth of it. He’d seen it wielded, how the blades work. It’s possible he wanted us to teach him how to use the magic, or… maybe he was simply jealous. Either way, your family’s vendetta against Slödava didn’t start with King Rafe. It’s been that way for generations. Old dynasties get stuck in their ways.”
Elma frowned, mulling it over. “And generations-old grudges don’t just disappear,” she said, thinking aloud. “My father’s stubbornness would have kept him hammering at your doors, Rime Ice or no.”
“Didn’t I say you were wise?” Rune said, grinning.
“Show me how it works,” Elma said, ignoring him. “Magic. I’ve never…” she trailed off, not knowing what to say. She had always believed in other realms, the heavens watching over her, the power in her seven candles. But this was visceral, physical magic. Power that split the sinews of living muscle. It was new and frightening, and she was aching to understand it.
“Never seen it before? You’re in for a treat,” Rune said. “I’m not sure I can teach you, but I’ll show you. I’ve never done this for anyone before. Not like this, outside of combat.” He looked almost shy as he spoke, as if Elma were someone to impress.
And as she watched, something in the man’s bearingchanged. His sheepish expression faded, and in its place, he began to radiate what could only be described askingliness.
Like hoarfrost gathering on stone, shards of glassy ice burst from his outstretched arm, piling on top of one another to form a thick layer. It crackled and hissed as it grew, until his entire forearm was encased in it. Within moments, the frost on Rune’s arm extended outward, crawling over his skin and into his fingers, until it became a hissing blade of ice gripped in his hand. The blade shimmered and moved like a river flowing beneath a layer of glassy ice.
“It’s beautiful,” Elma breathed. More beautiful than she had remembered.
“A bit overdramatic, when you think about it,” Rune said, running a finger along the flat of his blade, “but effective.”
“How does it work?”
Rune shrugged, and as he did, the Rime Ice blade contracted, shortening with the loud crackling of melting ice until it was gone. “We actually don’t know. Isn’t that convenient? The legend says that the first Slödavan king was given Rime Ice as a gift from the people of the snow, the fair folk. According to the stories, Rime Ice comes from the blood of the land, passed between those with royal lineage. If you’re feeling particularly philosophical, some believe that the land chooses who is blessed with Rime Ice. If a heart is ruined with greed or selfishness, supposedly, one cannot manifest Rime Ice properly. It will turn on you.”
“I see,” Elma said, frowning. “Could I learn how to wield it?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” said Rune, his mouth quirking in a half-smile. “But unfortunately, I have no idea. As far as I’m aware, no one but Slödavans have ever accessed its power.”
“I want to try,” said Elma. “I’m a queen, aren’t I?”
Rune’s gaze heated. “I love it when you’re haughty. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have a peace treaty to write, and you look… well, for lack of a better word, exhausted.”
Elma had to accept the truth of his statement — shewasexhausted. The long journey north was weighing on her eyelids, weakening her limbs. That morning, she had lit a funeral pyre and watched its smoke fade into the distance on the Frozen Sea. Though it had only been hours, it felt like lifetimes ago.
