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“Get up, Dakjudr.” His voice was as soft as Gytha had ever heard it.

Dakjudr glanced up at him and then back down at the ice. “How am I to face you, Your Majesty?”

The goblin king extended a hand to her, but she did not look up again.

“I cannot forget the sound you made when I yanked the lance from your heart.” Her voice was low and rough. “I am glad I was able to serve you, but the grief of my crime is too heavy to bear.”

Eshkeshken stood over her a moment, as if waiting for her to reconsider. Then he moved to sit beside her. For a full minute he sat in silence, until at last he said, “Well, that is unexpected. How am I to rule without my most trusted confidant beside me?”

Dakjudr chuckled grimly. “There are thousands eager to serve you, Your Majesty.” She was still kneeling, her face turned slightly away from him.

“That is true. But none of them were faithful through many long years of exile, not only to my name but to my person, to accompany me into hiding. None of them gave me courage when I had none of my own.” He leaned his shoulder against hers for a moment. “I am glad of their support, but I do not need them by my side. I need you, Dakjudr.”

Her head dropped even further, and she put her hands over her face. “I am sorry,” she whispered.

He tugged her hands away from her face and threaded his fingers through hers. “I grieve because you are grieved. But the pain of the ice in my heart and the pain of the lance are gone.”

He stopped and waited for her to say something, but she only shook her head.

“I need you, Dakjudr,” he said even more quietly. “By my side. How will I be wise and kind and courageous without you beside me? You have given me hope and courage for many years.”

She huffed softly. “You ask a great deal.”

He laughed, an oddly bright sound for all its sharp edges. “Yes, I do. You’d have to put up with me. Will you, please? Be my queen? Rule with me?”

She looked at him at last, her gray eyes catching the lamplight. “After what I did?”

“I asked it of you because I trusted you more than anyone else. Can you forgive me for it?”

Dakjudr bowed her head and stared at their clasped hands for several long seconds. “I can,” she allowed at last. “But do not ask me to hurt you that way again.”

He laughed again. “I hope there will never be a need.” Then he sobered. “I would have no one else do the hard, needful thing, because there is no one I trust more. Know that.”

“Then I will be your queen.”

He drew her to her feet and stood looking out at the crowd. Some of the ice goblins had watched their conversation, but their voices had been so quiet that no one had heard their words.

“May I tell them, or would you like time to reconsider before I make it public?”

She glanced at him. “I know my own mind.”

He grinned fiercely, his sharp white teeth flashing.

“Behold now your new queen, Dakjudr my bride!” Eshkeshken’s voice rang out like a peal of joyous thunder. “She is worthy of all your respect as a fierce and honorable warrior, a beacon of hope and courage in my darkest moments, and a just and merciful queen.”

All this time, Alexander had stood dazed a few feet away. Only the shock of the magic being broken had kept him upright this long. Now, as the crowd quieted and looked toward thenew king and his betrothed, Alexander crumpled senseless to the ground.

Gytha bent over him, her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t die now,” she whispered. “After all this!”

She pulled off one glove to feel for his pulse. The skin of his neck was so cold that she gasped. “He’s nearly frozen!”

The ice goblin king knelt beside her.

“What do we do?” Gytha asked.

The hard lines of Eshkeshken’s face softened. “I have more magic now. I can warm him a little, and we can build a fire. Come.”

He gathered up Alexander’s limp body in his arms and carried him into the palace, leaving the crowd behind. Alexander was much taller than Eshkeshken, but the goblin king had no difficulty carrying him. Eshkeshken did not even seem to notice the wound that had seemed so grievous.