Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
KATELL
Winter’s harsh grip was unyielding so close to the Ice Kingdoms’ territory. Snow blanketed every inch of the frozen land, turning it into a stark white desert. The relentless wind whipped across the flat expanse, stinging Katell’s face and carrying the faint, salty scent of a distant sea.
She sat astride her horse on a low rise, flanked by cohort leaders and fellow praefects.
Below, disciplined rows of Rasennan soldiers stood ankle-deep in the snow-covered plain before the forest, their faces set in grim determination.
Their breath misted in the frigid air as they faced the dark, imposing tree line.
The men shifted and shivered, their armour creaking in the cold as they waited for orders.
Beside Katell, Atticus’ grey stallion snorted and pawed at the snow, mirroring the restless edge tightening in her chest.
How much longer would they wait in the cold?
The Sixth Legion’s orders were to root out the Ice Kingdoms’ warriors hiding among the trees.
Dorias—now Legate of the Sixth Legion—was leading the eastern charge. Katell and the Black Helmets, now under her command, had been assigned to the western front, but Dorias had insisted she remain with the other commanders and not join the fighting.
She sat bundled in a thick cloak that snapped in the wind.
Despite the layers of wool and fur, the cold cut through to her bones, making her teeth chatter.
Her hands, however, trembled for a different reason.
She slid her left fingers behind her breastplate, reaching for her hidden vial.
When she retrieved the small supply of Laran’s Tears, a wave of relief washed over her.
Just one pebble to calm her nerves while she waited.
She swallowed it dry and eased back in her saddle, awaiting the familiar rush of magic to settle her shaking limbs.
It had been Dorias who first suggested she take one at night when thoughts of Alena, Sinope, and the arena kept her awake.
One Tear had been enough to clear her mind and sharpen her focus.
It had proven useful during training, and soon she’d grown accustomed to taking them throughout the day.
Although she’d feared the supply would dwindle this far north, deep in the campaign against the Ice Kingdoms, Dorias continued to receive packages from the capital.
Atticus, wrapped in a massive fur cloak, furrowed his brow. His Gifted amber eyes strained to pierce the dense forest. Beside him, Katell itched to move closer, but Dorias’ orders were clear: observe from a distance and await further instruction.
Behind the Rasennan lines, catapults hurled flaming projectiles through the air, their arcs illuminating the overcast sky before crashing into the forest and igniting the treetops. Still, the enemy remained hidden. Watching. Waiting.
The barricade the Northerners had raised along the tree line during the night burned with eerie, green flames that shimmered as if alive. They leapt at any soldier who ventured too close.
“What are the Northerners waiting for?” Katell asked, her breath visible in the cold air.
Atticus’ face was stony. He focused on the Black Helmets, who were attempting to breach the barricade with their Gifts. “Orders. From their leader, no doubt. The giant one Romilda told us about.”
Romilda, Legate of the Fourth Legion, had fought the Ice Kingdoms for years.
She’d described their leader vividly: a colossal figure, a head taller than Atticus, with most of his head shaved save for a blond crested braid—just like Katell’s.
Romilda had then speculated freely about the size of certain parts of his anatomy and what she’d do with them if given the chance, at which point Katell had tuned her out.
Romilda was Suebi—a female warrior from a tribe that had allied with Rasenna against the Ice Kingdoms. Her knowledge of the terrain, coupled with her formidable Gift, had helped her rise quickly through the ranks to become the only female legate in the army.
She’d warmed to Katell immediately, although her voracious appetite for men and unabashed way of discussing sex had been a surprise at first. Among the Freefolk, such things were rarely spoken of so openly.
But the Rasennans indulged freely and with many partners, and Romilda, though Suebi, had assimilated their ways very well.
Movement caught Katell’s attention, and she focused on the battlefield once more.
Shadows stirred beyond the tree line, but no warriors emerged.
They had no intention of engaging—not yet.
A wise move, with Dorias and the cavalry at their backs.
But that didn’t suit Katell. It was too damned cold to sit around waiting for the enemy to oblige.
Refusing to waste another moment, she gathered her reins. “We need to get past that barrier.”
She spurred her horse forward, ignoring Atticus’ grumbling behind her.
As she cantered down the slope, the cold wind whipped back the hood of her cloak. The soldiers parted without a word, eyes wide, reverent.
“Laran’s Chosen,” they whispered among themselves.
The nickname had followed her since the battle at the Green Mountains hillfort.
Her prowess in combat and command of Laran’s Flame had earned her not just respect but a sudden popularity, one that had brought all manner of soldiers to her.
To talk. To flirt. To invite her to their bed.
Until Dorias had put a stop to it. A few sharp glances, a handful of quiet conversations, and the shift had been immediate.
Ignoring the murmurs, Katell pulled to a stop beside the Black Helmets, her arrival drawing their attention. Arnza was the first to approach.
“Any luck?” she asked him, dismounting swiftly. Her boots sank into the snow.
He wiped the sweat beading down his face and scowled. “No. Our magic is useless.”
The Black Helmets converged around her. Larth’s black blade caught the dim light, its menacing edge no use until the Ice Kingdom warriors attacked.
Pinaria’s right hand glowed with her magic’s silvery-purple hue, and Tia stood beside Larth, bundled in so many layers of fur that Katell almost didn’t recognise her.
Her Gift for creating illusions was invaluable on the battlefield, but Tia was no fighter.
She relied on Larth’s protection, and he never strayed far from her side.
Katell studied the searing wall of green flames ahead, their crackling roar a clear warning to any who approached. Strong gusts of wind whistled through the forest, the pine trees swaying and rustling, their branches creaking. Yet the flames stood firm, a glowing barrier of heat and light.
Katell clicked her tongue. “We need to find a way through those flames.”
“I spotted the Gifted who controls them.” Larth pointed to a cluster of bushes a few paces beyond the tree line. “An ugly bastard with dark swirls crawling down his face. He was focused on the barricade, muttering the whole time.”
Katell looked at the figure stamping her feet beside him. “Tia?”
The Southern Beauty looked so miserable in the cold it was almost laughable. The black Rasennan helmet nearly swallowed her face. “I tried, but he’s too far. My magic can’t reach him.”
Hooves pounded the ground behind them, signalling Atticus’ approach.
“Where’s that blonde legate?” Larth growled. The edge of his blade hummed with a dangerous aura that made Arnza glance at it uneasily. “Romilda?”
The Suebi’s unusual Gift allowed her to slip through shadows and take others with her—a skill that had turned the tide in two key battles, catching the Northerners completely off guard.
Larth had a point. Romilda’s abilities would’ve been useful now.
“She’s with the Eighth Legion today,” Katell said. “It’s just us out here.”
The Rasennan ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “Fuck. Then I’m out of ideas.”
Katell turned towards the burning barricade. There was only one solution she could see, and Dorias wouldn’t like it.
“I’ll go.”
Atticus swung down from his saddle, his boots thudding hard against the frozen ground. “Don’t even think about it. Dalmatius told us to stay put.”
“We haven’t made any progress in hours,” Katell argued, pulling her cloak tight against the biting wind.
“If I can take out the Gifted and stop the flames, the other praefects can lead the soldiers into the forest and head straight for Dalmatius.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping.
“The scouts haven’t returned yet, which usually isn’t a good sign. He might need our help.”
A flicker of hesitation crossed Atticus’ face. He glanced at the barricade, then back to her. The crease between his dark brows deepened. “How do you plan to get past the flames?”
For the first time all day, Katell grinned and turned to the two youngest Black Helmets. “Arnza and Pinaria can boost me over them.”
They blinked at her, cheeks flushed from the cold. “Just like we practised in camp. Larth, help Arnza with the shield.”
Pinaria hesitated, glancing towards the nearby soldiers doing a poor job of pretending not to listen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “You could get seriously hurt, or land in the flames.”
Katell shut down the doubt. Dorias had entrusted her with the Black Helmets for a reason, and she intended to prove he’d been right. If anyone could make it over that barricade and take out the Northerner’s leader, it was her. Victory here could turn the tide of the campaign and make Dorias proud.
She removed her black-plumed helmet and unfastened her cloak, passing both to Atticus. “Then it’s a good thing my Gift will heal me.”
Pinaria frowned, exchanging a look with Arnza.
Atticus took the gear without comment, then gave a single nod. “Do it.”
As they moved for the barricade, Katell slipped her hand behind her breastplate and retrieved two more Tears. The extra boost would give her the strength to defeat the Northerners and enhance her healing if things went wrong.
Failure wasn’t an option.