The giant beneath the mountain has awakened after three centuries' slumber and devours some of my fathers' best men every morning. He will continue taking lives, one for every giant our ancient ruler killed to steal his land. But I know this ice gia...
"It would be faster to take a boat across the sea towards the western cities. It's easier than having to scale the mountain again. And the sea-level air might be better for Cassia's lungs." Leif places his hand on my shoulder, a friendly gesture like when Lord Octavia did so. Professional, or at least it would be if I stopped focusing so damn hard on how his hands felt when they lingered on my skin.
"Wanderers' blood." Quinn spits. "You can take your sea travel and your boats! Keep it 'cause I prefer the ground. I fight easy on the ground. You can't fight with your legs all like butter beneath you. Waves chopping your balance to bits."
"She means she's scared of getting sea-sick." Leif chimes in, only for his lordly butt to get planted into the snow after Quinn elbows him down.
"Sorry, milord." Quinn bows. "Must be the sea-sick in me."
I reach down and help the talkative lord to his feet. He presses his gloved hand into mine, his body so close that my hip presses towards his. I'm definitely imagining the amount of heat radiating between us, but still, it never hurts to dream.
We spring back from each other just as quickly. Fell's steady gaze drifts from us, feigning disinterest.
"To the dragon boats." I turn to Fell, craning my neck to meet his large gaze. "Take us there at once."
***
The jötunn wades into the icy waters towards where a cliffside on the shore is built up of icy sediment, leftover shipwreck, old battle wounds and new. Rotting arrows stick in pieces of driftwood. Kelp ties up in braids of twine with rusting swords as accoutrement. He places a palm against the frozen trash heap, and slowly, the years of debris melt away and disintegrate within the water.
The mouth of a cave reveals itself, tracking deeper into the belly of the earth. The air there is cool and steady. The wind, when it goes through the entrance, almost sounds like mer-people singing from my family's fairy stories.
We clamber onto the jötunn's hand as he drops us within the cave. Thankfully, his magic keeps the water from lapping into the depths and leaves us spongy, damp sediment to walk upon. He exhales and a bit of light glimmers from the ice, lighting our way through a cave lined with shimmering icicles and glacial frost. Shadowy figures drift into sight, dragons with their mouths open wide, eyes burning as they bob upwards in the water at our entrance.
Like me, their blood calls to the water. Wanderer's blood, did Quinn call it?
Cloelia Regina yearns for it, turning my insides all aflutter with the prospect of leaving land for the sea once more. For adventure and more battles, blood, and mayhem.
"I think I'm going to be sick just looking at 'em." Quinn lurches, one hand tucked around her belly. Her axe clanks as she slides to the ground dramatically.
Leif digs around in his pockets and pulls out a small silk bag, "I got some herb to calm you down for that. It's what we take in the marketplaces of Rahasia before our exams at University." I raise an eyebrow at that, but the lord just stammers out. "It's good for the nerves!"
Fell bends his head, one hand pressed still against the top entrance of the cave. "A boathouse," he rumbles, "your ancestors probably thought you'd need these sailing craft again, regina."
"How could they know I'd be so foolish as to leave Ymir?" I shoot back, staring at the boats, "an absolute idiot to leave safety behind."
"You mean brave, vinr." Quinn pipes up. "Cowards hide behind their walls. The brave go forth and seek answers to their problems."
I chew on my lower lip, considering the soldier's proposition. Again, I turn towards the daunting dragon-headed boats, staring at me with lifeless eyes. "Does anyone even know how to sail?"
"I do!" Leif pipes up. "We got lessons from an instructor of Akua during my time at University, old pirates and all."
"That University is all you talk about, I swear." Quinn snatches the bag of herb from him, takes his flask of Knarr mead, as well. "No sailing while intoxicated." She pipes, the seasickness gone from her as she raises herself to her full height to threaten the lord.
I take Zoya's dagger from my hip, start sawing at the ropes and netting holding the boats captive near their makeshift quay. "Come on then. We make a pretty band of pirates, but there are folk in the western cities who need us. Starving, all ready to riot if we don't hear them out first." I wave the rest of them over as they pull their axes and swords, cutting away at the ropes holding us back from setting off against the ocean. "We'll ask Octavia to help stock the boats with provisions. And then we're off." The rope finally frays and snaps beneath my blade. The dragon-heads seem to smile with their flashing fangs at me.
"If we be fools," Lord Kazmer matches the dragon's smiles, something about the roguish implication in his eyes forcing me to look away for a moment, his very laugh incensing something within me. Something dangerous. Something I can't altogether control. "then let's be fools together, my queen."
I nod at that, my grin matching his. "You have my ear, Lord Kazmer."
"The ear of the queen?" He leans in closer, sawing at a rope near my feet. "I wonder what I can manage next."
I kick him lightly as we go about our work, remembering Fell when he was just a cursed mortal boy in the sick bay. Remembering Lord Kazmer and the feel of him as we danced at the Knarr banquet.
I wonder why society makes us choose to only love one or the other. I wonder if, perhaps, I have room enough in my heart for both should they accept that kind of arrangement.
But first, I turn towards the seas. Hear the wind's siren call as it enters the cavern. Hear the waters as they cry for me and my great-mother's blood to return to them.
Cowards hide behind city walls. I think. Fools and brave ones seek out the answers to their problems, and ready themselves for danger.
But if the Masked Men looting the Knarr folk leave any indication, perhaps we will find nothing left in the western cities of Idriola other than burned bodies and emerald fire. Perhaps I will have been too late, staging my heroic battles here before their cities were razed to the ground. Perhaps...
And my heart grows cold at this. Perhaps, my people there are dead, killed by invaders, and I've failed them before I could ever hope to save them.
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So, ideal vacation plan. A day at University with Lord Leif Kazmer, or chilling in the magical Fólkvangr and star-gazing with Fell?
