Three seasons ago...
"She kisses like a fish besides." Karol snickers at that, preening his golden locks back from his face. "Do you think she was born underwater? It would only make sense why she can't breathe very well above land."
His friend, a faceless dandy, joins in his mirth. They pace circles in the snow in the clearing where, they wrongly believe, they are free to gossip as they please. Little do they know that these grounds are palatial property even if they are far from the main city of Ymir. My guards patrol this area often, and they have attentive ears to report back to me with. "Did she taste like a fish too?"
Karol's tongue runs along those sparkling white teeth of his. Sparkling white teeth which I'd like nothing more than to watch ground into a fine powder and scattered on the wind. "Depends, doesn't it?"
Their laughter, how their laughter made me ache from the inside. I could not have it. I would not have it.
How dare they not know their place?
I remove my hood as I order my men to my side. Karol's nameless friend flees quick enough, but I would not have Karol do the same.
No, Karol. You've royally screwed up.
He tries to spin around and flee, but another guard steps from behind the tree. Karol's lean body is no match against the legionnaire's war hardened figure. I hope Karol cracks a tooth from slamming into the soldier's breastplate. I raise a hand before they draw their swords, "stand down."
"Please, Cass, it was only in jest." Karol gets on his knees, crawling towards me. He hugs his arms around my thighs, burying his tear-streaked face against my skirts like a child. He whimpers as he sees the glint of blades beneath the legionnaire's gloved fists.
I kick him away and he falls to his hands and knees in the snow. "How dare you call me Cass." My lip curls. "Like we're as intimate as you claim."
"Please..." He gestures to where the long-gone friend of his has long fled. "My friend made me say it."
"He made you do nothing." I sigh, pretending to check some dirt beneath my fingernails as he grovels and whimpers before me. "I could have you executed for this." I fold my fist and the soldiers unsheathe their swords entirely. Karol's sobs grow even higher in pitch. I step closer to Karol, watching as he buries his head in the snow. I lift him by the hair. "Tell me, does the ground taste like fish?"
"I loved you." He wails.
"You loved the money my father's advisors paid you to say those pretty words." I point to the trees. "You have family far from here, right? I'm sure they miss you after carousing in every tavern south of their borders. Run from the city of Ymir, little lord. Run as fast as those feet will carry you or I will have you executed."
"Executed?" His jaw slackens, "for what?"
I grin at that.
"Displeasing me."
I chuckle as I watch him flee, coughing a little in my fist. One of my guards goes to check on me. I push him away.
"But your lungs, princess... the cold air might make them weaker..."
I wave his concern off. "The only thing I'm in danger of dying of is laughter at seeing Karol's pretty calves hit a snowbank." I hold up a coin purse. "Come, sneak me back to the palace before my father finds out I've went to spy on his advisors' favorite little lord. I'll pay for your meals at the tavern." The soldiers cheer. "That's the last time they try to marry me off to a fool. Weak lungs or no, I will rule Idriola as it was written."
***
The Present
I memorized the legend of Idriola at the age of eight. I was locked up in my room all day. There wasn't much else to do other than dream that my lungs worked properly and that I didn't choke to death from cold air.
It was rumored, long ago, that Idriola once ruled the seas. A legendary sea warrior, riding dragon-headed boats, wished to settle her bones after many long, bloody years of looting. She threw her spear into the snow and wrestled a jötunn, a giant made of ice, so that her warriors would not be devoured in the night. She won the title of Ruler of the Jötnar by defeating the king in combat. The giants, despairing at the loss of their leader, moved their kingdom far beneath the icy sea. Only the most loyal family of the giant king stayed for execution. The firstborn son, tired from fighting his captors, fell into a deep sleep beneath the mountain. His skin toughened into purest ice; his heart so frozen that none could thaw it.
From the bones of the royal giants, Cloelia Crispus Regina, of fiery red hair, ordered that the dragon boats be broken apart to build a home. The home became a citadel, and within its spiked walls, a village for trade and commerce. From all their years of invading, they had a store of pillaged diamonds, gold, and silver. These they buried in the treasury beneath the mines of the mount. The giant's blood became veins of magma, from which the greatest weaponry was forged. And the Idriolans, once known as the most fearsome sea pirates in the world, became infamous for their silverwork and jewelry-making. A few went rogue, and tiring from domesticity, followed Cloelia's unfaithful lover, Julius, in an attempt to overthrow her.
Cloelia ripped out his heart in response and banished the insurrectionists to exile at sea. (Hence, how the tradition of the Heart-Renders' Tournament came about. But that's another story). She was my many-greats grandmother, twelve generations ago. I will wear her crown upon my brow when I bear a wound in sacrifice for another. This is how things are done.
For now, I am Cassia Boadicea Dominus. The only blood I've sacrificed has been from my monthly bleeding, and the only war I've fought in is the one where I tell my dog Lila that she really must stop sleeping on my bed and clothes.
Like now, for instance.
"Lila. No, move over." A gray-freckled nose whuffs in my face as I roll over, burrowing my head in my pillow. "Get over, you great beast."
I roll her a little, wincing at her size. About the size of a man if she stands, with a patchy white and gray coat and a tail that tends to knock over all manner of books and glasses. "You're not a puppy anymore." At this admonishment, she sets her giant head in my lap. "Lila!"
I can't stay mad for long as she leaps up, places her great paws on my shoulders, and laps at me with that slobbery tongue. "You idiot."
"Well now, that's not very nice, is it?"
Lila whines and bounds up to the newcomer. I cease laughing and leap from the bed to my feet, hastily wiping away any bits of fur that Lila got on my dress. "Lord Kazmer! I didn't realize you'd be visiting today." I stop fussing with the dress as he walks closer, his hands behind his back as he stands to military attention. His mother was from Rahasia, granting him some level of familiarity with the opposing Empire. She gifted him his gold skin and the power in his eyes, his quick wit and talent. He was trained with the scholars of Rahasia and only just recently returned. Obviously, he's the talk of the palace. He speaks many languages, is well-versed in poetry, and adores...
"Silver! That silverwork is divine." I can't help but gasp when I see the metal-forged rose that he holds out before him. It's so delicate that I nearly don't take the stem for fear of breaking it.
"I crafted it myself. A work of art for a work of art."
"That's a line you've repeated a thousand times."
He holds his hand against mine, curling my fingers over the silver rose. "A thousand and one now." He steps back just as quickly as he did forwards. "I missed you at dinner, but I heard you were indisposed. I had to listen to a merchant prattle on about trade shares instead. Bits of coin fare nothing compared to those wonderful stories you spin."
"You listen to my stories?"
He laughs, scratching Lila beneath the chin. She wags her tail happily for the attention, glaring back at me. The traitor. "But of course. Father Ardo of the seas. Alarica, ruler of the universe. Mother Metis of mercy."
"You forget she's also the mother of wisdom."
He laughs, so at ease as I go to place the silver rose in a vase with some paintbrushes. "See? What would men be without women? We'd all be fools, that's what."
"Never born at all, actually." I look him over. Not bad. Broad shoulders, a sword at his hip. Blue tunic and trousers with a heavy black belt. A piercing in one ear, probably a Rahasian fashion he brought back with him from his time at the desert university. Platinum hair worn long and tied back from his ears in a bun. "Who sent you?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"I mean that I'm not an idiot. Which advisor, Klaus? Frederick? I'm a sickly princess with a younger brother who the people adore even if he's only eight. Who sent you to marry me off and relinquish my claim to the throne? Who told you where to find me?" He gets to his feet again, but I match his stance. Hands crossed over my chest and foot tapping on the ground with impatience.
He lowers his gaze. "Your father."
"Of course." I scoff, pointing one hand to the door. "You may leave now, Lord Kazmer."
"Princess, I'm sorry if I caused any offense..."
"I said leave!"
"Forgive me. I will take no more of your time today." He hurries out with a curt bow. Lila whines as the door slams behind him.
I fall to my knees, clutching my aching middle as I fight to breathe. The waves of panic come and go, shaking me to my core. It's like crying without any tears. The silent battle to regain control over your body again, wresting it from a body that doesn't know whether to fight or flee or run. One...two...three... No good. All that shouting took the wind from me.
I try to forget the panic. The constriction rears its ugly head as I continue trying to count breaths. Four...five...
Lila, whining, holds her large body against mine. I nestle into her fur, her warmth. It is enough to forget my struggles to breathe.
My father wants me married off, so I give up my right to the throne. Why? Because my lungs are weak, and thus, so am I. He's embarrassed to have a weak heir.
But remember what happened with that golden-haired dandy, Karol?
I will not marry a fool.
Relinquish my throne to my brother, Drago? Why, and let someone else control him like a puppet? I might have weak lungs, but I would not let this kingdom fall into ruin.
And besides, I would make a damn good ruler someday.
How did I know this?
Because those stories aren't just stories to me. I have the blood of Cloelia Crispus Regina in me, a warrior who ripped her own lover's heart out when he betrayed her.
And me? If I had to rip out my own heart to rule...
So be it.
"Thank you, Lila." My dog laps gently at my cheek as I straighten. I go to the window, staring out over the bailey where the stone walls rise high against the frigid wasteland of winter. And even farther still, the land of the giants. Or rather, where the giants once stood. Their homes have fallen beneath the ice, and their blood runs deep into the cold veins of the earth. The bailey yard is a stage of its own right, a poor theater for one bored princess. I watch the cooks haggling with the traders about the price of grain. The craftsmen apprentices bound to their trade. The Rahasian ambassadors with their colorful robes and precious bounties in return for our silver: dried fruits, sweet figs, honeypots, clay jars of spices and salted meats. We've had to outsource our crop lately because the winters have only grown colder, leaving the poor man hungry while the noble trades in precious silver.
The soil is hard. The frost giants' last curse. We would never make the land green again. The royals trade silver, but the people want gardens. They want to grow fresh produce for their children instead of selling services and getting their crops all yellowed or salted or dried from afar. In such a state of unrest, the people need a strong ruler.
I must be strong. For them.
I wipe the signs of the breathing attack away, scratching at my arms and my face. Only worsening the redness and the aching aftermath. "I hate my weakness, Lila." I dig my nails into the soft flesh of my palm. "If I was strong enough to just endure the ceremony, then father wouldn't keep trying to set me up with these princes and be rid of me."
I press my face against the glass, feeling the cold as it seeps from the window to my skin. Absorbing it. A corpse queen indeed. "I will not relinquish my throne." My voice comes out a whisper. I clear it and start anew.
"I will never step down. Not even if it kills me.
If you're enjoying "A Queen for the Frost Giant" so far, leave a little like and a comment below to cheer our fearless queen on. Get ready for adventure!
What do you think of Cassia Boadicea Dominus so far and the world of Idriola?