A Queen for the Frost Giant (Legends of Rahasia Book 0)

Chapter Twenty

The fire spits and crackles beside me when I wake up, rolling over to bump into Quinn's shoulder. Leif lies at my back, all of us trying to garner as much heat as we possibly can while freezing together on this mountainside. I shuffle and squirm out of the pack, careful not to wake the others. Careful not to brush too close to Leif and regret my reaction. I only have time to survive, not waste my time on other things. Forget myself, prove my father right, and lose my throne.

The frozen wastes of Idriola aren't exactly the most romantic of locations. Especially not since we're starting to smell of the road, of journey without rest.

When I finally squirm free, I draw my cloak tighter above me. My footprints crunch into the snow that fell as we were sleeping, footsteps embedded in fresh, slippery powder.

Another figure stands in front of the fire. Hair drawn back into a warrior's plaits, a golden shield strapped to their back. Their skin is exposed to the elements, acne scars and rashes visible in the flickering fire light. They bear a sword in front of them, the blade gleaming so bright that I can see my reflection over their muscular shoulder.

They turn to face me, raised bumps along their cheekbones crinkling into a wry smile. "Awake, Cassia Dominus?" They test the sword in a haphazard swing to their left. The sword seems to cut through the firelight with its waifish shadow. I look to the sky above, but the regular Northern Lights are noticeably absent.

"It's just me. We aren't in Fólkvangr, if that's what you call it." They step closer to me, dropping the sword into the earth, blade-first. I see my reflection split in half along the blade's seam. "You aren't dead either, if that's what you fear. Not mad. Just here. Able to see what most cannot."

"What of Fell?"

Alarica's brow crooks upwards. Their smirk stays in place, their sense of calm and bearing not letting up. "What of the jötunn?"

"Where does he go at nightfall?"

Alarica sighs, stepping around the blade with one hand resting on the hilt, spinning around it as though in a dance. "Fell fights his own battles, just as you do. He'll return at sunlight though." They pause in front of me, twisting their head to examine Leif and Quinn, sleeping still. "You need to rest."

"What are you doing here then?" I spit back. "If you want me so well-rested, then why the Hel are you here?"

"Curiosity." Alarica grins, cocking their head to the side. "And I made a bet with the other ones."

"What was the bet?"

Alarica spins around one more time before disappearing in a flicker of firelight. As though they stepped through their own shadow and into another world. One where I cannot follow.

Not while living, anyways.

***

As we ascend the mountain, we're jostled around in Fell's bag, hapless human marionettes trying to maintain some form of dignity. The further Fell climbs, the thinner the air gets, slicing past our lips, cutting into our bones. We huddle closer together as a particularly nasty bout of wind cuts past Fell's shoulder and hits the furs where we're nestled.

"Myki." Quinn mutters. "Drit." She mutters again when Lord Kazmer's shoulder strikes her chin.

Lord Kazmer sits with his knees drawn up to his chest, one arm tucked around his leg and the other hand resting beneath his chin. "How far do you think we've traveled?"

I shrug. "How far can you see on the horizon?"

He considers this a moment, turning to me, a sparkle dancing in his eyes despite the low lighting. "Far." He hums.