Crown of Ice (5 page)

“I know. I have seen you before. Once, many years ago, I watched your sleigh cross the sky like a shooting star. A great storm followed in its wake. Many reindeer lost their lives in that blizzard.”

I consider telling Bae that the queen he witnessed was one of my predecessors, but think better of it.

“It’s the way of things,” I say with a shrug.

Bae lowers his shaggy head. “So it is, Snow Queen. I have seen worse, over many years, in the natural flow of the seasons.” He snorts and shakes his head. “But this is nothing natural, I think.”

“No,” I agree, “it isn’t. Yet Voss has allowed you to live. It’s likely he has a use for you, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you what that is.”

The reindeer gazes at me mournfully. “It is nothing good, I am afraid. But …” He presses his muzzle against the iron bar, brushing my fingers. “I sense that things may change. There is a scent in the air like spring, though we have yet to survive the winter.”

“Don’t wish time away.” I speak sharply, thinking of the few months before winter ends, before my birthday.

“The thaw will come, Snow Queen,” Bae says, backing away from the door. “And neither you nor your Master Voss can prevent its arrival.”

I turn on my heel and stalk away
.
The change of seasons means only one thing—the end of my existence. While others long for green buds to unfurl into fluttering leaves, I tremble, knowing that a terrible fate awaits me, clothed in the deceptive beauty of spring.

This does not touch me. Such words hold no power. Let them fade. Let it go.

Back in my chambers I review my calculations. As the numbers fill my mind, I resolve to develop a plan that will halt any thaw, at least in my kingdom. If I complete the mirror I’ll reign as Snow Queen forever and nothing, not even spring, can touch me ever again.

MASTERING THE STORM

Something cool presses against my hand. I roll over in bed, and I’m nose to nose with Luki. I stare into his golden eyes for a moment, then glance about my chamber. Although there aren’t any windows in my rooms, my heightened senses tell me it’s still dark outside.

“Go out if you must,” I mumble to the wolf. After the first few weeks, when I had to drag Luki outside several times a night, I’d taken to leaving my door ajar, knowing that the possible presence of the wolf would keep the wraiths at bay. Luki soon learned to go out on his own, making his way through the concealed cave opening used by our servant animals. I hesitated at first, certain that once Luki left the palace his instincts would call him away to the wild, but I decided to take that risk. It was unlikely that he could help me lure Kai again, at any rate.

But Luki never leaves me.

“Just go,” I say, rolling away from him and pulling the fur coverlet over my head. I’m tired from a late night excursion to the Great Hall. During last evening’s review of my calculations I discovered I’d foolishly overlooked a wrinkle in one equation. Anxious to correct my error, I raced to the Hall to place five more pieces of the mirror. In my haste I forgot to illuminate all the walls and the wraiths trailed me right to the double doors, barring my entry. I sucked in my breath and plowed through them, dashing inside and slamming the door behind me. The wraiths are forbidden to enter any room that holds the mirror, but their eerie cries slipped under the door and filled the stone chamber

“Be quiet!” I yelled at the door, before focusing my mind on my task. Once I successfully reintegrated the fragments into the mirror I strode out of the Hall, stepping into a cluster of wraiths. I called them idiots and worthless whiners as I beat my way past their clinging vapors.

“Soon.” A threadbare voice whistled past my ears. “Soon you will be one of us.”

“Never,” I spat at them. Stalking back to my chambers, I reassured myself.
This does not touch me.
The words matched the rhythm of my boots.
Let it go
.

When I reached my room, I spent two hours reviewing my calculations before I fell asleep.

This morning I’m traveling back to the village. If I can’t collect Kai Thorsen any other way, I’ll conjure a blizzard that will bury that town. I’ll save only Kai from the tidal drifts of snow. Let the other villagers’ bodies freeze to match their hearts.

I don’t recall much from my first days in that town—just rough hands and nodding heads and lies. I do remember the stories the villagers told about my family, as well as the beatings I received when I protested the truth of their words. My parents weren’t fleeing from anything. We were leaving the village to begin life in another land. That’s what my father told me. A new beginning, far from frost-blighted fields and summers that wafted in and out in a day.

But I can’t dwell on such memories today. Dressed in my white furs, I hurry to the stables. Luki outruns me—he’s grown large enough to lope faster than I can walk.

I harness two pale ponies to my sleigh. “You aren’t quite as adorable a lure as before,” I tell Luki as he jumps into the sleigh.

He swivels his head to gaze at me, his expressive eyes opening wide.

“But perhaps you’ll do.” I lay my gloved fingers on his head and take up the reins with my other hand.

We reach the village as the sun’s sailing high in the sky, a pale golden disk swaddled in wisps of cloud. I survey the town from my vantage point above, locating Kai at the mill before I command the ponies to set the sleigh upon the ground. Whipping snow about me, I step from the sleigh. As Luki leaps out, I tell him to stay at my side. It’s strange for a wild creature to obey me without any touch of magic, but I recall my father speaking of wolves while I huddled by the fire as a little girl. “They follow their pack leader, whatever the situation,” Father told me. “It’s loyalty without question.”

I suppose Luki views me as his leader now. Wherever he runs, across whatever wild vistas, he always returns to me.

Work at the mill continues in winter, even though the wheel can’t turn the grindstone. I watch Kai load sacks of previously ground grain upon a farmer’s cart. He’s strong, this boy, and sings tunelessly as he works. He’s wearing his felted wool coat and dark leather gloves. His knitted cap glows like a drift of snow against his dark hair.

Kai glances at the sky as he strolls away from the cart. So he senses it, the storm that’s to come. Luki trembles under my fingers. He remembers Kai, of course. He recalls the boy’s scent and the touch of his hands.

I wait until the farmer’s reindeer team pulls the laden cart away from the mill. Kai is alone. He locks the door to the mill and glances about before striding down the rutted path that leads to the village.

This is my opportunity. I follow Kai at a distance, Luki padding soundlessly at my side. I’ve no fear of discovery. If Kai looks in my direction he’ll see a swirl of white, as if the wind has taught the snow to dance.

Halfway to the village I call upon my powers and conjure a sudden blizzard. It sweeps from the mountains like a rushing tide, wind and snow whipped into a freezing frenzy.

Kai lengthens his stride, but he can’t outpace my weapon. The wind bends him double and tears his cap from his head. He makes a frantic grab but it’s whisked from his flailing hands. He stops walking and glances about, holding his gloved hand over his eyes to protect them from the stinging snow. He’s trembling now, though not from an irrational fear of the storm. It’s logic that strikes terror in his heart. He knows the price to be paid for a bare head in the killing cold.

It’s almost time for me to approach him, his cap in my hands. I glide through the blizzard as if skating over a frozen lake. Instead of forcing me to battle its currents the wind lifts each step of my pale leather boots. Luki, trotting at my side, is wrapped in my magic and suffers no damage from snow or gale.

As I move closer to Kai I spy another figure pushing its way through the blizzard, struggling to meet the boy. I swear to myself when I realize who it is. Of course, his shadow—Gerda.

She’s clutching a woolen sack that must contain Kai’s lunch. The sack bangs against her thigh as she fights the brutal winds. Her lips move, but the sound is ripped away as soon as it leaves her mouth.

Kai sees her too. He stumbles forward and they fall into each other’s arms. I clench my fingers inside my gloves as Gerda whips the scarf from her neck and wraps it about Kai’s head.

Always Gerda intervenes. I cast Kai’s woolen cap to the winds and stalk after them as they make their way down the path, clinging tightly to one another. I could kill them both in an instant, but that’s foolishness. I still have need of Kai.

They spy the old cattle shed as soon as I do. Heads down, bracing their shoulders against the wind, they make their way to the shed and crawl inside. I follow not far behind, my presence disguised by driving snow. Leaning on the outer wall of the shed, I peer through one open window.

Kai and Gerda are huddled together, covered in a deep mound of straw. Their faces are pale with cold, but a blush of color rises in Gerda’s cheeks as Kai clutches her tighter. Safe from the worst of the wind and warmed by the straw bedding, they won’t freeze. Kai whispers something in Gerda’s ear and she sighs and drops her head upon his shoulder.

I whirl away, striding off into the driving snow, Luki at my heels. “Let the storm rise,” I shout to the wind. “Let it spin snow into mountains. Let it roar.”

The blizzard roils into a killing frenzy as Luki and I climb back into the sleigh. I crack the reins against the ponies’ flanks, driving them into the white sky. Speeding away, I glimpse another figure crawling along the mill path. Someone has ventured out in the storm, someone from the village. The dark form staggers and falls, face first, into a great drift of snow.

I can save that person, if I wish. But to do so might betray me as the force behind this storm. That’s a risk I can’t take—Voss will sense any action that reveals my true nature. I must leave this stranger to his fate. It’s the way of things.

Another slap of the reins and the ponies gallop away, carrying me far from the village. Back to the palace, and my doom.

***

I pace the floor of my bedroom, clasping and unclasping my hands. Waking this morning, my certainty of Kai and Gerda’s survival faded and I fear the repercussions of my fury. It’s bad enough that I haven’t yet captured Kai. Far worse if he’s died in a storm of my creation.

Whistling for Luki, I make my way to the stables. This time I pause at the reindeer’s stall. “Will you carry me, Bae, to see what’s become of Kai?” I ask, staring into the creature’s sad eyes.

“I will, if it may save a life,” Bae replies. He’s surprisingly docile as I harness him to my sledge.

Luki leaps up beside me and we set off, Bae pulling the load as if it’s a pile of feathers. We swiftly reach the village and I order Bae to land the sledge behind an abandoned cottage. I’ll not raise another storm so soon, but I can’t risk being seen.

“Go,” I say, unhitching Bae. “Walk the streets. It’s not so strange to see a reindeer wandering about this village. Go and discover if Kai Thorsen lives, and report back to me.”

The reindeer bows his head and trots into the center of the town. I know he won’t flee. I’ve spun magic that will tether him to me this day.

Luki and I stand perfectly still, hidden behind the fallen walls of the old cottage. I pass the time watching a solitary lynx stalk a covey of white-furred rabbits. The cat captures one at last and slinks away, his prize writhing in his jaws. “See—this is the way of things,” I tell Luki, who cocks his head and stares at me with his bright eyes.

After a while Bae lumbers back into view. He walks to me and bumps my shoulder with his muzzle. “I have returned, Snow Queen, with your news.”

“Yes?” I grasp his bridle and pull his face closer to mine. “Does Kai Thorsen live?”

“He does.” The reindeer throws his head to the side, yanking my arm. “Kai lives, and his friend Gerda too. But there is great sadness in their homes, for Kai’s father has suffered terribly from your storm.”

It was a father then, struggling to find his missing son, who was lost in that drifting snow.

The memory of my father’s strong fingers, curled about my small hand …
No, let that fade.

“Kai and Gerda found him this morning,” continues Bae, “lying along the edge of the mill path. He still lives, but is nothing more than an insensible husk. Kai is inconsolable. He was not supposed to have gone to work that day, but desired to make some money of his own and so opened the mill for a farmer wanting grain. His father’s body and mind were destroyed trying to save Kai from the storm, and now the boy blames himself. Poor Kai.” The reindeer dips his head.

I grasp the bridle again. “If Kai’s inconsolable,” I hitch Bae back to the sledge, “and guilt clouds his mind, perhaps he’ll be glad to leave his home, at least for a time.” I allow myself a little smile. This turn of events might prove beneficial to my plan.

Logic tells me that with his father lingering on the edge of death Kai will be surrounded by family. There’ll be no chance for me to approach him for some time. “For now,” I tell Bae and Luki, “we return to the palace.” I gather up the reins and command Bae to carry us home. Luki’s gaze follows the lynx as it races across the snowy fields beneath us.

A NEW EQUATION

At my command Bae has returned to the village several times to observe Kai. The reindeer’s reports are heartening. Kai’s fallen into a deep melancholy that no one can lighten, not even Gerda.

“He’s only interested in his figuring now,” Bae tells me as I rub him down with a bundle of straw. He’s just returned from a swift flight to the village and steam rises from his flanks, misting the cold stable air. “Working puzzles and writing out equations. He hardly sleeps and doesn’t care to eat. The little miss tempts him with his favorite foods, but he simply pushes the plates away.”

“This is good. I think perhaps it’s time”—I step out of the stall and grab a bale of hay—“I paid Master Kai another visit.”