Page 58

“You’re wicked,” she says, raising her hand. A boy, maybe seventeen, with a shock of golden hair to rival Doman’s, jumps to attention. “Would you bring us a bottle Virelian rosé, please?”

“Right away,” he says, and I watch with amusement as Gunnar tracks the servant’s movements like a hawk, watching him disappear into the kitchens.

When he comes back with the bottle, his eyes widen, trying to figure out what it means.

Titus is talking, but there’s no chance Gunnar’s hearing a single word.

“And a bottle of white, as well!” yells Liora, and Gunnar relaxes instantly. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t toy with him a second longer,” she smiles. “He’s under enough stress. He thinks you were pulling a power move, showing up late to the last meeting, and he’s been second-guessing it ever since.”

The servant comes with two bottles, and my cheeks turn the color of the rosé as I remember why I was late.

Liora smiles, clinking the freshly poured glass with mine.

“Oh, so that was it. I had my suspicions. The way some of the women are ogling them, they’d love to be late for something. But they’ve only got eyes for you.”

I drink the white wine of my homeland, feeling at ease to be with a Virelian. “So, Adriana, when did it change?”

“What?”

“Your feelings for them. You went from hating them to caring for them. I can see it in the way you look at them. When the vote happened, I was thinking you’d drive a knife through their hearts before letting the marriage rituals finish.”

“Somewhere along the way.”

“I thought I’d hate Gunnar forever, for bringing me to this frozen wasteland. Oh, diplomacy. I still long for the forests, but there’s a beauty to this planet, a beauty that grew on me. You may find you feel the same, when you get to Colossus. Will you live there?”

“I don’t know yet.” I find it easy to talk with her. I met her, a few times, what feels like a lifetime ago, back on Virelia.

“You’d miss your family, for sure. How’s your sister doing?”

“Juniper’s always the same. She’s doing great.”

“That dress… perfection. And what a way to start her fashion career. I’ve ordered two to be sent over as soon as she can make them.

” She smiles, lost in memories. “I can still remember planting the seeds with Gunnar. Back then, I hoped some blight would stop them from growing. Now I can’t imagine living my life without him.

Aric, could we get some smoked trout?” she calls over at the servant boy, who disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a plate of the sliced fish.

“I can’t stand all the heavy food they eat here,” she says, daintily picking up a piece with her fork, and bringing it to her mouth. I try it as well, and it melts in my mouth, lightly smoked, letting the natural flavor of the fish shine through.

“Apparently Aurelians are the same. A diet that seems almost completely composed of red meat.”

She grins. “I’ve added oysters into Gunnar’s diet… he gets an extra… fortitude after around a dozen.”

I sigh. “These three don’t need any extra fortitude.”

“You know, even the hardcore nationalists support you, Adriana. They see the Reavers flying above, over Frostholdian lands, and they see it as a great victory. You’re a bit of a hero here.”

“I don’t feel like a hero. The first Prime Minister to let Aurelian boots on our lands. But if it brings peace, it’ll all be worth it.”

“I’ll toast to that,” says Liora, raising her glass. I clink mine against her, sipping gratefully. It’s nice to be around so much life and noise after walking the icy, barren stretch from the warship to the great hall.

There’s a sudden quiet under the noise of eating, drinking and laughing, and I realize the winds have slowed.

“A good omen. The skies will be clear tonight. You’ve never seen stars like on Frosthold on a clear night. We’re so far from the sun, it’s lit up like a thousand candles.”

Gunnar stands and bangs his fork against his tankard. “Well then! We’ve all been waiting. Tell us, what are the warriors going to hunt down to win the hand of their bride-to-be?”

All talk quiets. There’s a pregnant silence, the band slowing and stopping.

“Stand up,” whispers Liora.

I stand, all eyes on me. “I’d like them to hunt the most ferocious, the most dangerous, the most bloodthirsty…

” I pause, and no one is even breathing, bated breath as they wait for my words.

Gunnar’s eyes are practically bugging out of his head, and he casts a horrified look at Liora, who is biting her tongue.

“Fish in the entire lake!” I yell, and there’s a chorus of laughter.

Gunnar wipes sweat off his brow, relaxing.

In the Frostholdian tradition, it’s a great honor bestowed on a prospective suitor. When a man has proved himself a hundred times in battle already, no beast on the entire planet could be his match, and choosing a harmless prey means the bride-to-be has already accepted him.

“Then a fish you will have!” yells Titus, downing his glass of mead. He said he was going easy, but he waves for another mug, enjoying the celebrations.

“I thought you were going to give poor Gunnar a heart attack,” gasps Liora, keeping her face diplomatically blank, not wanting to add to Gunnar’s ups and downs of emotions.

“A little revenge, for all the torment he’s put me through in meetings and negotiations. He’s relentless.”

“That he is, and I love him for it. He’d die for his people.

He really would,” she says, looking at her man with pride.

I take another bite of smoked trout, and she sips her drink, enjoying the warmth and liveliness.

“Better not fill up. I’ve got a feeling they’re going to catch you something big.

Shall I take you to where you’ll be spending the night? ”

I wince. “Am I going to freeze?”

“Not at all. They’re cozy. Gunnar made me an ice palace… normally your fiancé makes the shelter for you, but in this case, an igloo has been constructed already. Gunnar oversaw it himself. Doesn’t want his royal guests freezing to death on his watch.”

“You sure you want to escort me? You get cold like me. There’s plenty in this hall who would be happy to bring me to it.”

“Us Virelians have to stick together,” she smiles, her cheeks tinged delightfully pink with drink.

I’ve had only a glass, and I can feel the rosy warmth on my own skin.

“Could you please get our coats?” she asks, ever graceful, to the servant boy attending to us.

He darts off, weaving his way through a crowd of drunken men who have started singing a low, rumbling song between sips of beer.

He returns with our coats, which nearly match, except hers has a bear’s head for a hood.

We stand and start walking to the door, when Gallien is on us in an instant, the crowds parting for the huge Aurelian. “Where are you going?” His eyes are sharp as he glances over the mass of people, judging each in turn.

“The bride-to-be awaits the triumphant return of her man… her men in an ice shelter,” says Liora, her voice soothing.

Gallien nods curtly and speaks into his smart-watch. A hard Aurelian voice comes from the other end, and Gunnar’s on his way, cheeks flush with mead. “What’s the problem here?” Gunnar barks out.

“I’m going to need Reavers in low airspace, to watch over her,” answers Gallien.

Gunnar licks his lips, then nods. “Not a problem.”

Gallien speaks in a low, urgent voice into his smart-watch, his face stony. When he gets like this, every word has a purpose. When he gets assent, he turns to Gunnar, relaxing. “Now then. You promised to show us the best fishing hole…”

“Fished by my daddy and his daddy before him, and any man who tries to poach it gets a fist. But I’ll let you three be the first not of my line to hunt those waters.”

“A great honor,” smiles Gallien, without an ounce of condescension. He’s a diplomat in his own right. He leans in and kisses me softly. “I’ll see you soon. Keep the fire warm.”

“On it,” I reply, and leave the hall with Liora, both of us bundling up our thick white coats tightly.

As we step out into the bleak frozen landscapes of Frosthold, the winds have quieted, the heavy gray clouds blown aside to reveal the first stars of twilight blinking above. They glow even more brightly than on Virelia.

“This is just the beginning. Wait until night,” says Liora. “I never stop being amazed.” She leads the way on a rock path. It is carved through the heavy permafrost, snowbanks raised on each side, so that it feels like we are walking in a tunnel, the frosty ground crunching beneath our feet.

There is a deep, luxurious silence, the snow blanketing the music and laughter of the great hall that fades as we walk.

We turn a corner, and ahead, the vast frozen lake stretches out endlessly before us.

A tiny igloo, like an upturned bowl, is a hundred paces out in the snow-covered lake, smoke trailing up from it to the night air.

“See? I told you that you wouldn’t freeze. It’s cozy in there. Want me to show you in?”

“I think I should walk alone,” I say, feeling like I’m in a trance as I step out onto the vast silence of the ice. Above, Reavers flit in silence, only the barest hum of the Orbs that power their engines audible, circling like guardian angels as I walk out into the frozen lake.

I don’t look back. The stars seem to multiply, a trillion silent watchers above.

A hundred paces, through the thick snow, my thighs burning, and I get to the igloo.

The ice blocks are fitted together seamlessly, and a thick brown fur covers the entrance.

I move it aside and duck into my home for the night.