Page 8

8

BESSA

For my next Glacial Council meeting, I carefully chose my gown made of silk and brocade thick enough to feel like armor. My hair hung down in loose curls as added warmth, the style not having changed in a hundred years. A simple band of gold encircled my forehead. Eska draped herself across my shoulders, her bright red tail curled over my left clavicle, blending in seamlessly with my own fiery hair.

“We’ve heard back from five out of the seven delegations.” Councilman Cecil adjusted his fur hat, narrowed his eyes, and looked back at me. “All five have agreed to attend your coronation festivities, your majesty. It looks as if the second part of your wild bid to be queen has succeeded. Congratulations.”

I wanted to shout and jump on the table and run circles with Eska. My body glowed with heat as if I were a coal-fired furnace and could light this entire castle up with my warmth. But I stayed primly seated and folded my hands in my lap. I was pretty sure that was proper queen etiquette.

“Wonderful.”

“We need to discuss your suitors, of course. The delegations will be sending their semi-best, mainly out of curiosity. Second- born sons, old kings needing a broodmare. Still, it is the best opportunity we’ll have to impress or bamboozle one for long enough to propose. Honestly, either will do.”

“Thank you for your candor,” I said, not thankful at all.

Rune stood and bowed at the waist before addressing me. “I think what Cecil means to say is that your majesty is a complete unknown. Not having grown up as an official member of the royal family, no one even knew your name until you stormed the battlefield claiming to be the lost twin of Philip and the rightful heir to Frostvale.”

“Claiming?”

“I am simply speaking from their point of view. No one knew, either, that he’d kept you imprisoned. For better or for worse, you’ve certainly got the kingdoms talking. Some might come out of pure curiosity and to see if the rumors of unicorns are true.” He sat back down.

“A rare feat,” said Filomena, the only woman on my council. I wanted to bring her to her feet and make her dance with Eska and me. Instead, I gave what I imagined a regal incline of my head looked like.

“Thank you for your thoughts, as they are always most welcome,” I said. Then, I added, “I know I’ve spoken to some of my councilors alone about my options, but my ear is always open to whatever my most esteemed ministers have to say.”

I watched in some amusement as the twelve ministers tried to hide their shock that others had gotten the jump on them. Was it bending the truth? Sure, but I had spoken alone to my most trusted counselor—Mika. With any hope, they’d get suspicious of one another and start actually coming to me instead of plotting together behind my back. Time would tell, but it was a good first step toward better control over them.

“We can discuss your choices soon,” I said, interrupting their murmurs, “but for now, if you wouldn’t mind, I thought it would be nice to start this session with a candle lighting of intention.”

I pulled Ambrose’s candle of courage from under my brocade. There were a few raised eyebrows, but no one objected. It seemed they were the tiniest bit mesmerized by the thick pillar of beeswax. Hope flared in my heart. Maybe the candle was already weaving its magic around the room. I’d need all the courage I could get to enact the next portion of my wild plan.

Walking as solemnly as an acolyte of Gelid to one of the braziers, I put the wick to the flame, but paused mid-movement as a sudden thought needled into my head. What if the candle was indiscriminate in its offerings of courage? What if it gave courage to everyone in the room? No one would have any trouble standing up to me and rejecting my ideas outright. Worse, that would be considered open mutiny. Treason even. If someone gainsaid my father or brother in public, they wouldn’t have hesitated to do away with them in every sense of the word.

I didn’t need that kind of responsibility.

My hands began to tremble; I wrapped them tighter around the candle, remembering the warmth and cozy charm of the candle shop, the way it made me feel deep in my chest to be inside, surrounded by magic. Did Ambrose know what he was doing? Did he know he wove magic? Surely he did. I pictured his face, stony and above reproof. He hadn’t thought I could do this. He thought I was weak when I needed to be strong.

Eska made a slight movement, a tiny nudge of encouragement. I took a deep breath and tipped the wick toward the flames, the heat pleasant against my knuckles. It caught immediately, a drop of melted wax falling into the coals and hissing loudly. Immediately, the room filled with some unidentifiable, earthy scent, and—was that a tiny tooth suspended in the candle?

I decided I did not want to know.

Reverently, I held it outstretched in front of me and glided back toward the long meeting table, where I set it in the middle with a thunk.

“In this room, in my name, we will have the courage to help our people. We will commit to the difficult things that do the most good. We will be a source of hope, and we will return Frostvale to its glory.”

I had the room’s attention. They were spellbound in their silence.

I continued, my voice dropping a little lower so they all had to lean in to hear me. “First, we will ask all Frostvalens for their help in finishing the castle, and we will pay them to do so from the treasury. I had a count done this week, and there are enough half-groats for every man, woman, and child to receive three. It is vital that we finish this castle, not for my sake, but for theirs. For I don’t intend it to be a home for royalty, but an epicenter of community for all of Frostvale’s villages. It will be a symbol of what Frostvale could and should be. The entire southern wing will be available as a warming area where it will open up onto the royal gardens. We will use thermal vent farming to maintain not a pleasure garden as in the past, but a complete kitchen garden where any and all can come to pick fresh produce.”

Here, I started to get some pushback; I could almost physically feel it. I plowed ahead, beginning to pace around the room as an added distraction, so they had to follow me.

“We are to hold a great feast to celebrate. The entire kingdom is to be welcomed into the castle for a week of feasting and dancing.” I couldn’t get any more of my frankly preposterous plan out of my mouth before the council members shot to their feet, all pretense of slow, aching bones gone in their absolute outrage.

“A week!”

“Feasting and dancing? And who’s to pay for that?”

“How would it even be possible? Where would this food come from? It’s not in the budget! We’re barely making it week to week as is,” reasoned Filomena, which wasn’t wholly unexpected, and she probably had a very good point.

While my magical fire fox was (probably) a literal godsend, Eska made fire. Not food. I couldn’t explain it; with her appearing in my life, I felt I could do anything. Even conjure food from thin air. I meant it when I told Mika I would pull this off.

“We will figure it out. We have no choice. We must entertain these suitors. What would any other kingdom do?” I asked.

That quieted them down. They knew I was right. How was I supposed to obtain a suitor, negotiate treaties, and create fair trade agreements without prestige?

“They would do what they must to put on a good face. I expect the same out of every one of you.” I smiled. “Please, as I said before, don’t hesitate to see me outside of our scheduled meetings, but as you can probably tell, I am anxious to get started with all that we must do and prepare in the next month.”

Cecil pursed his sour lips. “Your father burned tree hearts for his baths. Now you wish us to burn ourselves with this absolute folly?”

With a deeply frightening smile, I replied, “I guess it’s a good thing he only bathed once a year… and that only one coronation will occur in your lifetime, Minister Cecil.” The look of absolute shock would stay with me for days. I had actually rendered them all speechless.

“The cold does not claim us.” Without fanfare, I abruptly swept from the chambers, not giving the ministers a chance to formally dismiss the proceedings or to insult me by pretending to amble slowly to their feet. I had too much to do and not enough time. The candle sputtered out on the table, spent.

For a moment, I couldn’t gloat or worry. All I could do was picture the chandler and wonder if he would be proud. Or if he’d believe me at all.

As it turned out, that wasn’t the biggest problem of my week. No, that would be the suitors.