Chapter 1 #3
Now, I was the captain, responsible for his safety and that of the realm’s, and he was nowhere to be found.
We’d sent countless parties looking for him and his company, and no one could find a single trace of where they might have gotten lost. It was as if the storm had swallowed them whole.
I’d been preparing to go after him myself when the queen made the decision to strip our former captain of his title and handed the silver emblem to me.
Which meant I was next on the chopping block if I didn’t find the prince.
I kept rushing through the streets, passing merchants arranging their wares in stalls, baskets of preserved fruits, polished trinkets, and thick cloaks dyed in the deep blues and whites of Isenheim’s colors.
Children played in the snow on their way to school, their laughter a welcoming sound amidst the recent gloom that had begun to coat the city.
“Captain Sylvi!” an elderly female called from her stall, her weathered face breaking into a smile. “Congratulations! Your father would be proud.”
I paused, dipping my head respectfully. “Thank you.”
As I turned to continue, the rich scent of fresh bread wafted toward me. The baker’s shop was just ahead, its windows fogged from the warmth within. A burly male with flour-dusted hands stepped out, holding a steaming bun wrapped in cloth.
“Captain!” he called, hurrying toward me. “You look like you’re in a rush. Here, take this for your trip.”
I’d not had a chance to grab breakfast before heading out, and my stomach grumbled at the sight of the warm bread. Starting off my day on an empty stomach was probably not a great idea, so I reached for my coin purse, but the look in the baker’s eyes made me return it to my belt.
“You’re too kind, Sigfrid.”
“Keep us safe, Captain,” he said, his expression earnest as he patted my shoulder and returned to his shop.
The bun’s warmth seeped into my gloved hands as I continued toward the stables, its soft, buttery taste a small comfort.
The city stable came into view at the end of the street, its large arched entrance flanked by sturdy stone pillars.
Inside, the familiar sounds of the soft nickering of horses, the rhythmic scrape of brushes against coats, and the low chatter of stablehands greeted me.
“Morning, Captain Sylvi,” one of the stablehands said. “Your mare’s been ready since dawn.”
“Thank you, Torric,” I said, stepping inside.
Rows of polished wooden stalls lined the walls, and my mare, Eira, stood at the far end, her white coat shimmering faintly with a bluish tint.
“Hey, girl,” I murmured, stepping into her stall. Eira nickered softly, her intelligent eyes meeting mine as I stroked her neck. “Ready to get to work?”
Torric handed me the reins as I climbed onto the saddle and led Eira out, her hooves clicking lightly against the stone floor.
Eira moved with an eager energy as we trotted out of the stable and onto the main road. I guided her through the city, her hooves striking a steady rhythm against the cobblestones.
As we drew closer to the Frost Palace, its breathtaking grandeur emerged through the morning mist like something from a frost-laden dream. The crystal spires climbed impossibly high, piercing the pale sky with their shimmering tips.
The silver-coated metal gates stood open, guarded by soldiers whose polished armor was almost blinding. At my approach, they straightened, saluting crisply, their breath clouding in the air. I returned the gesture, nudging Eira forward through the grand archway.
Beyond the gates, the courtyard stones were immaculate, arranged in an intricate mosaic pattern, bordered by towering sculptures that depicted the kingdom’s victories and its gods.
Courtiers in thick winter cloaks bustled about, and soldiers sparred in a designated section of the courtyard, the clash of steel-on-steel reverberating through the air, all while messengers darted in and out of the grand entryway with scrolls clutched tightly in gloved hands.
I dismounted near the stables, handing Eira’s reins to a groom who bowed slightly as he took them. “See that she gets a warm mash,” I said, patting Eira’s flank before turning my attention to the figure striding toward me.
Tall and broad-shouldered, Lieutenant Varik, my second in command, closed the distance with his long strides, his shoulder-length dark brown hair tousled as if he’d barely slept.
His sharp, shadowed features betrayed little emotion, though his tone carried the weight of his post. “Captain, we’ve had reports from the western border.
I’ll brief you on the way to the War Room. The queen has assembled the council.”
“Lovely,” I replied, adjusting my gloves. “Any news of the prince?”
Varik hesitated, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “He arrived in the dead of night.”
I stopped mid-step, the air seeming to thicken around me.
Relief surged first, quickly followed by a prickle of irritation.
He’d returned after days of absence without so much as a word?
My mind churned with questions, though I quickly schooled my features, unwilling to let Varik or anyone else see the unease within me.
“Why am I just now hearing of this?” I asked, keeping my voice even, though heat rose around the column of my neck.
“We only learned of his return this morning,” Varik replied, not wanting to meet my gaze. As my second, whenever I was off duty, it was his job to be on. The prince’s return had been top priority, and we’d been caught with our trousers down.
“Is that why the queen summoned me so urgently?”
Varik nodded. “She’s been on a warpath since she woke up, especially when she found out he’d strolled into the palace last night, unseen. The reports regarding the Isogrim’s movements on our western border didn’t make things any better.”
I bit down on the corner of my bottom lip.
The Isogrim had always posed a threat, but it had been centuries, if not longer, since they’d tried to mount an attack against our kingdom.
My brother’s words echoed in my brain… He’d mentioned during supper earlier this week how the townsfolk in Isenheim and regions outside of the capital were already blaming the queen.
No time to point fingers, though. It was time for damage control. “Where’s the prince now?”
“He’s been locked up in his chambers since he arrived and has asked not to be disturbed. Some of the palace staff mentioned he looked…unwell.”
A string pulled in my core. Jack could be infuriatingly reclusive, but this whole thing was completely out of character, even for him.
One thing was to retreat into himself or his books, but it was another to go missing for a week, only to return out of nowhere without telling anyone, including me—especially me—then locking himself away like a prisoner.
Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.
“I’ll deal with him later,” I said, more to myself than to Varik. Cornering Jack wouldn’t help, not when he was in this state. But I deserved the truth. Friend or prince, he owed me that much. “Let’s go.”
The grand entryway opened into a cavernous hall, its vaulted ceiling supported by pillars that gleamed like quartz.
Chandeliers made of faceted crystals hung above, the sunlight shining through the massive windows refracted off the crystals, dancing across the pristine marble floors in a kaleidoscope of colors.
The walls were adorned with tapestries woven in threads of silver and blue, depicting the kingdom’s history, battles fought, alliances forged, and the coronation of the Frost Queen herself.
Courtiers hurried through the halls, their footsteps echoing softly, while guards stood at attention near every major doorway.
Varik and I strolled through a side passage, its narrower confines still exuding an opulence that spoke to the palace’s wealth.
Metal sconces lined the walls, casting soft light that glinted off polished suits of armor displayed in alcoves.
As we approached the War Room, the low murmur of voices grew louder.
The doors to the War Room were massive, carved from ancient wood and inlaid with platinum filigree. Two guards pushed them open at our approach, and I stepped inside.
The Frost Queen sat at the head of her table, its surface a single slab of onyx-colored stone etched with a map of the kingdom. Around it sat the queen’s council members, their faces drawn into their usual scowls as they turned to acknowledge my arrival.