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“My mother was Javethai’s older sister, and when she died soon after her father the king, the throne was meant to go to me.

But Javethai is much older than I, and crueler, and I did not want to risk war for the sake of status.

” His steps were steady, but his voice grew quieter and rougher with emotion.

“I should have intervened before now, when I learned of her cruel bargain with the human prince.

He did not deserve these centuries enmagicked into a beast.

“But I thought her pride would not let her break her word as she has. I thought, if I let it play out, she would release the human.

“Now I see she has lost all semblance of honor, and I can no longer excuse my own cowardice. The time for patience and peacemaking is at an end.”

They continued walking in silence.

Hour after hour they walked, and at long intervals the ice goblins handed Gytha bread and cheese and cold sausage to eat.

Finally, when she was so tired her steps were uneven again, Eshkeshken changed his path and clambered up a low ridge to the snow-swept top. Gytha followed, breathing hard, and found him standing at the very top, with the icy hill falling away before him.

When they were gathered, he called in a loud voice, “East Wind! Please hear me.”

A voice rang out. “What do you ask of me, goblin?”

“My companions and I wish to go to the castle at the end of the world, east of the sun and west of the moon, where Queen Javethai rules in my place. I am Prince Eshkeshken of the ice goblins, and this is Dakjudr, my friend and ally.”

The wind whirled and spun and the swirling dust of snow coalesced into a vague figure in front of them.

Fine snowflakes caught the dim starlight, lending the translucent figure a strange, ethereal beauty.

No clear features were discernible, but there was a sense that the figure was looking at them each in turn.

“And what will you give me for my help?” The voice hissed and sighed like a winter breeze over frost-covered stone.

“As the rightful king of the ice goblins, I will give you my gratitude.” Eshkeshken bowed low and remained with his head lowered.

The snowy figure turned a little toward Gytha, its translucent shoulders wisping away and then reforming. “You have a human with you. It is strange for a human to travel with ice goblins.” There was a question in this statement, but Gytha was not entirely sure what it was.

Eshkeshken straightened and put a hand on her shoulder in a way that seemed to Gytha to be somewhere between protective and possessive.

In his low, cold voice, he said, “She is a friend and an ally against the usurping queen, at least as regards the bear prince. Will you carry us there, East Wind? ”

The wind whispered against Gytha’s cheeks. “What will you give me, human child?”

Gytha licked her lips. “I don’t have much to offer,” she said carefully. “But I will tell you of my family, if you would like to hear.”

The wind laughed softly. “I have never been so far south. The lives of humans are of little interest to me, but I have no love for the goblin queen. Tell me of your family, child, and I will do you a favor of my choosing.”

Gytha opened her mouth and Dakjudr put a restraining hand on her arm. Eshkeshken said, “A favor? Will you take us to the ice goblin palace?”

“No.” The wind whipped briskly around them, throwing snow into a glittering cloud. “I will take you to my sister, the West Wind. She knows the mountains better than I do.”

Eshkeshken bowed slightly. “Thank you.” He looked at Gytha and said, “The East Wind is just and honorable. Speak without fear.”

The snowflakes swirled so dizzyingly that for a moment Gytha entirely lost her bearings. She closed her eyes and felt the ice beneath her boots, the strength of Eshkeshken’s grip on her shoulder, and the steady pull of gravity and fatigue on her body.

“My father is Ivarr Bjornsson, and my mother is his wife Hlif. I am the oldest of eight children. My little sisters and brothers are Sigrid, Solveig, the twins Ashild and Dagney, Randulf, Halvard, and Brinja. Halvard learned to read while I was in the queen’s prison.

The bear prince saved all our lives with healing magic and with elk and fish he brought my family to eat. He is?—”

The wind spoke suddenly. “Healing magic? How did he come by that?”

Eshkeshken said, “I lent it to him to use in the south, for what purpose he chose. It was my personal magic. The queen has no such power of her own.”

The wind sighed softly. “Have you any magic left, prince?”

“Very little.” Eshkeshken straightened, his sharp face raised proudly. “When I take my rightful place, I will take the scepter from my aunt and regain the power that is mine by birthright.”

The wind was silent for some time, though it swirled softly about their shoulders, tugging on Gytha’s hood occasionally. Finally it murmured, “What of the goblin kingdom? What sort of king will you be, small prince?”

Eshkeshken said, “I have no quarrel with the human kingdoms. I will pursue no war that is not forced upon me.”

The wind whispered, “The injustice of Queen Javethai has been an offense to me for long years. I will support your claim, Prince Eshkeshken. Hold still, and I will give you something that may be of use in your revolt.”

The ice goblin prince stood even straighter, his spare frame erect and proud as his clothes whipped in the wind. Then he gasped and clutched at his chest with one hand. He hunched a little, his features contorted in pain. Then he straightened again, his face a ghastly shade of gray.

“Thank you, East Wind,” he said hoarsely.

Then they were caught up in a whirlwind and the world spiraled into madness.

Snow and stars spun, and the wind whipped and pirouetted around them until Gytha had no sense of direction at all. In fact, very little sense of self remained.

When the wind finally dropped her on a snowy hillside, she lay face down in the frigid fluff, unable to even think of rising. Snow stuck to her eyelashes, froze upon her cheeks, and filled her nostrils.

Strong hands turned her over, and she stared dizzily up at the star-strewn sky, dark and infinite. Dakjudr’s face hovered over her. “Gytha, human child, do not die now. Your bear prince needs you.”

She blinked snow from her vision and tried to think. “Yes. Yes, of course.” She struggled to sit up, and Dakjudr’s arm around her shoulder steadied her until she could sit on her own.

Gytha looked around.

Eshkeshken stood some distance away doubled over with his hands on his knees. He retched and coughed, then pressed one hand to his chest as he groaned.

“Your Highness,” Dakjudr called. “The human child is awake.”

The ice goblin prince coughed again, his thin shoulders hunched for a moment, before he straightened. He strode over to Gytha and offered her a hand.

She accepted his hand, feeling guilty for it but having the distinct feeling that he would have been deeply offended if she had refused his help.

“Are you all right?” she asked cautiously.

His striking gray eyes flashed. “I am angry, and I am strong. Do not worry about me, Gytha. Are you well enough to continue?”

She swallowed her fear and pretended it did not matter. “Yes.”

“Then follow.” He caught Dakjudr’s eye and nodded, as if they understood each other, and then he led them upwards.

The mountain climbed toward the sky above, steep rock faces jumbled together with snow drifts and ice-crusted crevasses like cracks in the earth itself. Eshkeshken offered her his hand at the most challenging parts of the climb, and she felt, if not exactly safe, at least a little protected.

As they scrambled higher, Gytha’s heartbeat thudded in her ears, and her breath came hard. The icy air stung her lungs painfully, and the wind whipping past felt like ice shards against her skin.

Her foot slipped, and Eshkeshken caught her arm and hauled her up the last few feet.

“Thank you,” she gasped.

He extended his hand next to Dakjudr, who climbed behind Gytha.

All three stood atop a high, rocky promontory. The wind howled over the shoulder of the mountain some distance above, but where they stood, it was only a frigid caress.

Eshkeshken pressed a hand to his chest and grimaced.

The sky above was a blanket of stars, and above them in a great, sweeping curve, the air shone in a rippling ribbon of pink, green, purple, and blue.

Gytha gazed up in wonder; she had seen the colors before, but never with such clarity or brilliance.

The beauty felt like a gift and a reassurance that even if all their efforts fell to ruin, beauty was not entirely overcome.

The wind curled around Gytha’s hood and murmured, “I have not seen a human in these lands for many long years. Where do you come from, child?”

Gytha glanced at the Eshkeshken, who nodded that she should reply.

Her voice sounded thin in the immensity of the cold night.

“My village is called Aoalvik, but it’s so tiny no one knows it except for we who live there.

Langaholt is not too far away; more people live there.

Aoalvik and Langholt are far south of here. ”

A soft tickle wove between her hood and her hair, a cold whisper around the back of her neck beneath the layers of cloth and fur. Gytha shivered, and there was a soft answering shiver that felt like amusement .

Then the feeling died away, and Eshkeshken stood even straighter, as if the cold touch had startled him. A low murmur met Gytha’s ears, but she could not understand what the wind said. She heard only Eshkeshken’s reply.

“You know my claim is just, West Wind. I will take no vengeance upon your children for ignoring me these long years if you will aid us now.”

The wind laughed softly, but it did not seem unkind. “Those seaside breezes? They had no power.”

“I know.” Eshkeshken sighed. “Please. You know Javethai is unjust, and it is a shame upon us all if her crimes are rewarded.”