Chapter 28 – Isolde
ISOLDE
Thyra and I had been back at the castle for hours.
In that time, I’d tried to create a shadow form like the one she had made.
All my attempts failed. That, combined with Lord Balik’s absence and the fight we’d witnessed in the streets, had only served to drive my mood downward.
So when a knock came at the door, I was not at all upset to be interrupted while practicing magic.
“Yes?” Thyra asked.
“Princess Saga and Lady Marit are here,” Freyia called from the hallway.
“Let them in,” Thyra replied.
Freyia opened the door wide, and I caught sight of her sister, Astril, standing guard alongside her.
“Hi!” Saga chirped as she swept into the room.
True to form, however, Saga had already hired a seamstress in the city to create gowns, and a few fighting ensembles.
A brief glance told me that the seamstress did impeccable work.
Another more thorough look made me smile.
Hanging in Saga’s pocket was the outline of a small book.
The princess was a prolific writer and kept all the court secrets in a notebook she called the Book of Fae.
I wondered what she was writing about the southern city and my fledgling court.
I held back from asking, but made a note to have Saga invite her seamstress to Ramshold so that I might be measured, too.
The Balik sisters were generous with their wardrobes, but I hadn’t spoken to them since the frost giant battle.
I was sure their absence was because their father forbade it, and not because they wanted to stay away.
My friendship with the Baliks aside, sooner or later, I’d need an array of my own garments, anyway. Thyra would too. If we were to rule, we would need every weapon and shred of wisdom at our disposal. I, for one, counted clothing as a very effective weapon.
“Good afternoon,” Marit said more softly than the princess. “I brought a few snacks for moral support.” She held out a bag. “Chocolates. Not those gold dusted ones, but from a shop in town. Qildor took me and, believe me, they’re exquisite.”
“What a sweetheart that knight is!” I winked at Marit.
“Let me stop you there. Nothing has happened.” She let out a long-suffering sigh. “Until I’m no longer married, I think things will stay that way.”
“Fates, is he for real?” Thyra muttered.
“He’s too noble.” Saga perched on the edge of Thyra’s bed, earning her a slight frown from my twin. For once, though, Thyra held her tongue about outside clothing on the bed.
“Agreed.” Marit lifted the bag. “Anyways, do you have a platter?”
Thyra laughed. “No. We can eat them out of the box.”
Marit looked appalled.
Saga gestured to the Crown, sitting on Thyra’s bedside table. “Any luck?”
“I haven’t made much time,” I admitted.
“And I haven’t had a breakthrough, despite sleeping with it every night.” Thyra rubbed the back of her head. “Which, you can imagine, is about as comfortable as it sounds.”
“Well, you did return from a frost giant battle just days ago,” Saga said graciously. “And you quelled that squabble just earlier today.”
“Barely,” Thyra said. “They stopped throwing punches, but I could tell the locals weren’t fully convinced that the rebels were trustworthy.”
“You won’t change everyone’s mind in a day.
But you probably planted a seed, and those can grow into the most beautiful things.
” Marit reached into the bag and pulled out the box of chocolates.
She set the blue box on the table between the chairs and took off the lid.
The sweet smell filled the room. “As for the Crown, there’s no time like the present to have another go. ”
Not at all in a hurry to use the Hallow, I smiled at my twin. “You first?”
Thyra took the Fr?r Crown in both hands and set it on her head. It struck me as lovely how well the Crown suited my sister. She was the picture of regal.
Thyra was stronger than me, with well-muscled arms and legs, and the scar that bisected her left eye gave her an air of grit. Add in that she was far more skilled with a bow and, like me, possessed powerful winter magic, and Thyra looked every bit a warrior queen.
My twin closed her eyes. By the measured way that she breathed, I could tell she was concentrating, trying to connect with the Crown.
I waited, hoping something would happen, but when Thyra’s jaw clenched, I feared we had reached another dead end.
She removed the Hallow from atop her head. “Nothing. Still nothing!”
Before she hurled it across the room, I took the Crown from her. “Perhaps it’s . . . still warming up?”
Thyra pursed her lips. “There’s nothing we can do to instigate visions, Saga?”
“Well, there is a potion,” the princess looked uneasy saying the words, “but it’s meant for experienced seers. I haven’t even tried it because it’s so potent. Dangerous for those unused to visions, and maybe you don’t know this, but visions can be dangerous in themselves.”
“Right.” Thyra let out a huff. “Give me a damned chocolate.”
Marit thrust a box at my sister, and Thyra devoured three chocolates before I got up the courage to raise the Crown to my head. The metal settled over my hair, braided today in an intricate style of overlapping braids. I released the cold metal and exhaled. Waited.
“Anything?” Saga asked, gaze alight.
I gave it a few more seconds before lifting the metal circlet from my head and tossing it on the bed. “Nothing.”
Thyra let out a sigh so full of relief that my irritation, so close to the surface after recent events, flared to life.
“I don’t think I’ll try again.”
“What?” Saga’s voice rose. “Why?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my sister doesn’t want the Crown to work for me again.” The pent-up frustration I’d been feeling laced my tone. Even though I didn’t like the Hallow I knew it was of great value. “Fates forbid it helps us through me.”
Thyra tossed her hands up in the air. “Am I so wrong for wanting something from our family to be mine and mine alone? The Crown has given you a vision, but not me, and I’m the one who should be most inclined to use it! The Blade chose you too.”
“You can use the Blade,” I countered.
And apparently make shadow forms, I did not add.
“Not as well as you.”
Something in me snapped. Although I’d been sure my sister had felt this way, we’d avoided the topic. Many topics, actually. Those issues, combined with the stress of recent events, made my stomach clench.
I marched towards the door and swung it open. Freyia and Astril stood before me, as still as stone.
“What’s wrong?” Astril asked lowly.
“I need space. Don’t follow me.”
“Isolde!” Thyra shouted. “Wait!”
I slammed the door shut and ran. Ran for distance, for air because with each second it seemed to come less freely.
I rounded one corner, then another, ignoring the questioning looks from the servants as I dashed by.
Thankfully, none of my friends roamed the corridors.
No one tried to make me stop. No one seemed to register the tears that had fallen.
That luck held until I swung around my third blind corner and ran right into someone. Slipped.
A hand reached out to steady me, but the moment I was on my feet, it released me, as if I were poisonous. When I pulled my gaze up, I swallowed.
“Lord Balik.” My voice was raspy, my breathing irregular. “I apologize.”
The Warden of the South stared down at me, golden eyes hard, though I detected a bit of concern there. But when he nodded and swerved around me, leaving me there without a word, I thought I probably imagined that concern.
Fates, he hated me. Hated what was inside me.
My chest tightened, and my already shallow breathing worsened. I couldn’t get a lungful, couldn’t think straight. Only once had I experienced anything close to this—when Prince Gervais of the Blood Court had arrived in Frostveil with Anna at his side.
Hide. You’ve shown too much weakness as it is. A small, rational part of my mind spoke through all the garbled thoughts.
I had to look strong. Had to pull myself together.
I shoved open the nearest door and slammed it shut behind me.
Hand to my chest, I went to a bed that was stripped of blankets.
Nothing else in the room either. I’d stumbled upon one of the spare bedrooms. Doing my best to regulate my erratic breathing, I perched on the edge, pressed my palms into the feather mattress, and tilted my chin to the ceiling, only for the door to swing inward on a groan.
My head snapped up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
However, it wasn’t Thyra who stood in the doorway, but Lord Riis.
“I—won’t press,” he blurted. “But I wanted to make sure you weren’t injured. I saw you run into Lord Balik, then rush into this room. You appeared distressed.”
Clearly, because I hadn’t even seen Lord Riis, and he wasn’t exactly a pixie.
“I’m fi—fi—” a sob ripped up my chest.
Lord Riis inhaled. “You’re having a panic attack, Isolde. Like that one night.”
Ah yes. Who other than the Lord of Tongues had seen me run from Prince Gervais and into the kitchen the night of the ball? Lord Riis was always there. Always watching. But unlike that night, I’d not have him touching me or comforting me.
“Leave,” I muttered. “Please, just leave.”
He nodded. “I’ll find Vale.”
Lord Riis shut the door behind him. It was closed for no more than ten seconds before the hinges groaned, and Thyra entered. She took me in and poked her head out the door.
“I have it from here, Riis. Don’t send Vale.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said on the backend of a ragged breath.
“And I’m not going to make you,” she replied, shocking me to my core. “I’m sorry. I’ve been quite jealous at times and have taken it out on you.” She crossed the room and took a seat beside me before I registered her words. “Please, forgive me.”
At those words, words that I’d not expected to hear, my shadows settled. My breathing too. Finally, I let out a long exhale.
“I forgive you.” And it wasn’t even hard to do so. I didn’t want tension between us.
She nodded slowly. “The stress of figuring out the Crown and our shadows is a lot.”
“Yes, but I was actually being serious when I said I didn’t want to use it any more. Not just reactionary.”
“What? Why?”
“If I’m being honest, I don’t think I can control the Crown. And there’s a chance that no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to.” The Hallow had never made me feel right, and something in me understood that was a sign.
“Perhaps not,” Thyra mused. “And maybe we don’t need it to reach our goals.”
Who could say? I’d taken it from a Falk vault, but had the Fates helped me find it? Or sheer luck? Or had the Fr?r Crown itself manipulated me so I’d take it out into the world?
“There’s something I wanted to propose to you, sister,” Thyra said, her tone even. Deliberately so.
I sniffled and straightened my spine. “Sounds important.”
“It is.” Thyra took my other hand in hers.
“We haven’t spoken of the throne in many days, and understandably so.
A lot has been going on, and neither of us wants another fight.
Or to cause the other discomfort. Seeing as we’re already in the thick of both, this might be an ideal time to pull the stitches from the wound. ”
Stars, the throne. That was truly the last thing I wanted to speak about. I opened my mouth to say as much, but Thyra shook her head.
“Please.”
A pregnant pause filled the room, broken by my clearing of my throat. “Fine.”
“Well, I was thinking, why should we allow the throne to come between us? We’ve both been through so much, seen many sides to this kingdom and others. We have compatible strengths and experiences, so why not use those to build a better kingdom? Together.”
“We were always going to work together.”
“Yes, but what I mean is . . . right now there’s only one throne, but we can make it otherwise. Who’s going to tell us no?”
My lips parted. “You want to—co-rule?”
“If you’ll allow it.” She swallowed. “I understand if you don’t want to. I know your magic is a little stronger than mine.”
“Perhaps, but you’ve made a shadow figure, and I haven’t, so it seems your shadow magic is more powerful.”
“That happened once. I couldn’t replicate it when we were trying earlier, and I certainly can’t control the shadows much at all.
” My sister let out a breath. “Anyway, I know that you procured us the most powerful allies, but I thought it was a decent idea. Admittedly not one I wanted before, but what’s the difference between that and a king and queen ruling equally? I can’t find one, though, if you ca—”
“Yes.” I didn’t need to hear any more. “I love you. From the moment I knew I’d once had a sister, I wished I could have known you. And then when I learned that you were alive, I desperately wanted more. To be a family. The throne is important, of course, but I don’t want it to come between us.”
I didn’t care if, by the regular laws of inheritance, I would rule alone. Fates, two moons ago, I had never possessed an ambition to rule. Had seriously considered letting Thyra have everything she wanted.
But this idea . . . This sharing that monumental responsibility to bring greatness to our homeland, it did not sound like a bad thing. It might make the kingdom better than it ever had been before.
My sister stared back at me.
“And if we win this war,” I continued, needing to fill the silence, “together we’ll make Winter’s Realm—no, all of Isila—a better place.”
Finally, she opened her arms. “I haven’t always been kind to you, nor did I show it, but after I learned who you were, some very small part of me hoped that we’d be together again.
That maybe, I have family in this world.
” My throat tightened, and I leaned into her hug.
“I love you too, sister. I’m sorry that I fought it, fought you, for so long. ”
An exhale parted my lips. I’d said those three words without expecting her to return them, but my body had craved them. Wanted her love back.
“I’ve heard that fighting is what sisters do—second best only to loving one another,” the words were strained coming out of me, but this time with happiness.
“I’ve heard that too. I suppose we’re living proof.”
A laugh burst from me, and I gripped her tighter.
“Then it’s settled,” Thyra added softly but with that same steadfast confidence in her tone that I’d grown to admire. “Soon Winter’s Realm will have two queens.”