Chapter 5 #3
Her brows inched higher. “I suppose I knew Einar was a part of everything…but I didn’t know he had to be, legally.” Frustration, not doubt, colored her tone. “What else, I wonder, don’t I know about my new duties?”
The lamb was so tender it melted on his tongue. If this was his last meal, at least it was a worthy one. “May I ask you something?”
Face still contemplative, she nodded. “Of course.”
“Raf—do you know where he is? Is he…?” He glanced to the side, where he had to assume cells held other thanes.
She shook her head. “Fodur didn’t seem to remember my mention of him after hearing your name, and I didn’t remind him. I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here. I checked the roster this morning.”
“Good. Thank you.” He probably went to the inn, as planned.
What else would he do? Perhaps he’d fetched whatever package Pab had left behind.
He’d read the letter, he knew about it. And the innkeeper wouldn’t know Raf from Nik.
His friend could claim to be him and answer any questions to prove it—they knew each other as well as brothers after twenty-six years spent at each other’s side.
“Do you know where he would be staying? I can inquire for you.”
Nik’s gaze snapped up. It should be a trap, shouldn’t it? A way to haul his friend in for questioning too. And from anyone else, he would have thought it was. He should still think so now, should assume that she’d only thawed the prison and brought him food to gain his trust.
And yet…and yet his soul, still opened to the Giver in prayer, whispered a song of peace rather than wariness. Whispered of trust.
Hadn’t he felt the Giver leading him to Reykstoll, even before Pab’s invitation? Hadn’t he felt certain that he had someone here for him to meet, something for Nik to do? That same place inside echoed now with assurance.
Senseless as it seemed, Kyrja was meant to be his friend. Perhaps this, all this, was part of the Giver’s plan. To reignite love for him in the people, to change their land.
He heard in his mind the Words he’d last read, of a healing that had brought indignation down upon the Giver’s only-born. Stretch out your hand. An act of faith, one required for healing.
Stretch out your hand. An act of faith, toward this woman who should be an enemy. An act of friendship. An act of trust.
He drew in a breath. “We had rooms at an inn on Fyrst Street. It’s called the Gala.”
The princess nodded, eyes absent any spark of dark glee.
She looked weary…but determined. “It may take me a few days. The funerals are tomorrow, and Fodur is making me report my every move to him. But I’ll enlist the help of a friend of mine from the city when I see her tomorrow.
I don’t…” She hesitated. Winced. “I don’t know who in the palace I can trust.”
“I understand. And I thank you.” Though even if she found Raf… “Would you tell him to go home, to lie low? I assume there’s a no-visitor policy here.” And it would probably be a bad idea for him to come, even if he could.
A muscle ticked in her jaw. “I don’t know.
But it certainly doesn’t seem conducive to the average visitor.
” She pushed to her feet, paced the two whole steps to the stone wall, and set her hand against it.
“These conditions are death to a thane—even a Fjorder would find them unsustainable after a while. Was it like that the entire time you were here? Completely frozen?”
He nodded around a mouthful of bread.
“Perhaps when Einar died, something seized up and the ice took over.”
He swallowed, took a sip of tea. “With all due respect, it’s called the Ice Prison. Why are you surprised to find it made of ice?”
“The name is for the indestructible bars.” She motioned to the now-solid-wall. But didn’t sound convinced. “Or so the history books say.”
Nik forked another bite of potato. What did the Giver will him to do with this friendship?
Could he help her to see the truth the thanes lived with day in and day out?
The threat? The hopelessness? It was worth a try.
“Had any of the guards reported a problem these last few days? Unusual cold? Unprecedented amounts of ice?”
She drew her hand away from the stone and curled her fingers into her palm.
“Not that I saw. But there’d have been confusion in who to send the reports to, wouldn’t there?
They could have landed on Fodur’s desk, but he wouldn’t have been able to get through everything.
It’s why he tasked me with what he has.”
The duties of both her brother and sister, if her words upon entering were true. “How are you doing? With the new responsibilities?”
It was none of his business, and a week ago he couldn’t have imagined even wanting to know. But impossible as he’d have believed it then, this ice princess actually seemed to have a warm heart.
Her shoulders bowed. “I think…”
He waited, but she said no more for long enough that he set his half-eaten food aside so he could stand, his joints finally warm enough to allow it.
Doing so put him at her side, as little space as there was in here.
“You think what, Kyrja?” He kept his voice quiet, even though his throat had begun to loosen, strengthen.
She stared at the ice. “I think he means to test me. And I think he wants me to fail. But that makes no sense, does it?” A turn of her head and she was looking at him, begging him to reassure her.
“I’m all he has left. He wouldn’t want to break me.
This is just a trial by ice. Plunge me in and see how I do. What I’m capable of.”
Though he had no faith in the king, the man was her father. And he’d shown a measure of concern when he’d realized she was in the presence of Nik, whom he assumed was a terror-maker.
A father, a king wouldn’t want his only remaining child to fail.
His instinct would probably be to protect her—but according to Raf, who would know, she’d never had much by way of official duties thanks to being third-born.
Perhaps this trial by ice was in fact the kindest thing he could do for her in the situation.
To see what she could do and then adjust accordingly, strengthening her where needed.
Nik nodded. “That seems reasonable.”
She puffed out a laugh. “Then it must be true. Fodur is reason personified.”
“So then…again. How are you doing? With the new responsibilities?”
She flexed a hand, and he felt a pulse of cold that quickly retreated.
“Maintaining the ice, the storms, isn’t as difficult as I expected.
But the mountains of paperwork may well suffocate me.
” She lowered her hand and turned fully to face him.
“You know the Words. What happens after death? Is it nothingness, like Fodur says? Are they just gone? Extinguished, like a flame?”
“Tread carefully,” he could hear Raf saying in his head. But it sounded in direct opposition to that Stretch out your hand. What if this was the Giver’s whole purpose? What if he wanted this woman to find faith in him?
And besides, what did Nik have to lose? He was already in the Ice Prison, condemned to die if the king had his way—and the king always did. What more could they do to him, even for speaking of such things to a princess?
Even so, Brother Gylfi’s training—unofficial as it was—kicked in. He asked a question, rather than answering one. “Does that feel right to you? In here?” He splayed a hand over his own chest.
She mirrored the action on her own, and frost splayed out across the fabric in a design that mimicked the embroidery.
Her chest heaved under her fingers. After an infinite moment, she shook her head.
“They can’t just be gone, snuffed out like a candle in the wind.
The bodies we recovered, that you arranged so peacefully—those are not what they were.
Not fully. Whatever the breath of life is, that is what defined them each as separate beings.
Einar with his endless patience and faith in me.
Krystiana with her tireless abilities and prodding of us all to improve.
Freya with her gentle spirit and warm hospitality.
Mamma—” Her voice broke, and she blinked, cleared her throat.
“Mamma with her limitless love. Those things will not go into the fire with their bodies tomorrow. So they must be elsewhere. They cannot just stop being. How would that be logical?”
Nik inclined his head. “Then that is the first step toward your answer. Never mind what I believe. You believe in an eternal soul.”
Her hand fell away. “Then where do they go? Their souls? Does the Giver really send unbelievers to the underworld? That’s what the kyrkas teach, isn’t it? That only the faithful enter Himmel?”
It was, but he didn’t know how to look her in the eye and tell her that her siblings would be condemned for their lack of faith.
And what did he really know of it? He’d never visited the after-world.
The Giver could choose mercy for those who heard his Words after death and accepted them as they hadn’t in life. Or he could choose justice.
Nik drew in a slow breath and let it out.
“What I know is that the Giver is all things true and good and noble. He sees the heart that we here below cannot. He knows intentions and desires. And he knows too how we, his creation, have gotten things wrong in our teaching. I have to believe that he, who is truth and justice, presents each of us with that perfect truth when we meet him. That we decide ultimately not based on the faulty explanations we have been given here, but on his eternal Word.”
She tilted her head, dark curls spilling onto her shoulder. “How could anyone see perfect truth and not accept it?”
He lifted his brows and looked around. “We are surrounded by truth every day, Highness. And yet we often choose not to see it.”
She looked around too. And went stiff. “I see your point.”
Something he wouldn’t have thought to credit to her before.
What Fjorder, what royal had chosen to see before?
“Perhaps you ought to seek out your mother’s dominie.
He will be more learned than I. Better able to answer your questions.
” And more acquainted with the dance of answering without pushing too far.
Kyrja nodded. Shifted toward the wall of ice. “I cannot stay any longer—Fodur is expecting me soon. But I brought you what I could.” She motioned toward his bag. “And the cells will not freeze over again, I promise you that.”
Cells—plural? She had thawed them all? Gratitude settled on him, heavy as a hand. He bowed at the waist. “Bless you, Princess.”
She froze with a hand outstretched toward the wall, which was shrinking back to bars. Where did she send the ice when she pulled it away? Her lips turned up the smallest fraction. “That’s odd, isn’t it? They call us the Blessed, but no one has ever blessed me before.”
He smiled too. “You were born with power over water and ice. But you choose to use it nobly. You deserve blessing.” His smile shifted into a grin.
“If I see Raf before I die, I owe him an apology. I always teased him mercilessly for his crush on you, but it seems he wasn’t wrong when he claimed you were more than a pretty face. ”
He meant it as a joke, but her face fell at his words, making him regret them instantly. “Let’s hope he’s right,” she said. She squeezed through the opening she’d made and closed the bars again without looking back at him.
He only stared after her for a moment. Then he reached for the bag she’d left. Slid a hand inside, a prayer on his lips. And nearly wept when he pulled out his copy of the Words.