Daughter of Sun, Bride of Ice Read online

  “No, but you’re right. We’ve known each other less than two brightenings, and Father is already pressuring me to go through with the heartbonding ceremony.” He glanced upward. “Speaking of which, I asked Clindt if he could meet us here to talk about that, and I think, if I’m not mistaken, he’s on his way.”

  He nodded towards the entrance to the garden, an arched doorway with a metal gate. A man who appeared to be a bit older than Olyn pushed open this gate and strode towards them. His gray eyes broadened with recognition as Olyn stood and crossed the garden to greet him. They shook hands, and Olyn led this new man, presumably Clindt, over to the bench where Arynne still sat.

  “So I finally get to meet the illustrious, long-awaited Sun Princess.” Clindt laughed. He offered her his hand. Apparently bowing was not an accepted form of greeting in Frorheim, even among strangers.

  Awkwardly, she took his fingers, her cheeks warming. “Just Arynne, please.”

  “She’s practically family after all, cousin.” Olyn angled towards Arynne. “As I’m sure you’ve discerned, this is my cousin—my father’s sister’s son—Clindt. He’s also the mender who will be overseeing our heartbonding ceremony at the end of the mooncycle.”

  Clindt winced. “About that—I’ve spent the last few hours arguing with your father and my mother, with neither of them listening to me much. He wants me to have everything ready within three moonnotches.”

  Olyn’s jaw went slack.

  “So soon?” The blood drained from Arynne’s face, leaving her numb.

  Clindt raised his hand. “I am still trying to talk him out of it. As I said in the council last brightening, the more time we give you two to form the bond naturally, the easier it will be to coax your bonding. Strong enough love can actually produce a natural heartbonding over time, even without a ceremony. I see it often in couples who have been married for starcycles who decide to finally take the heartbonding step. The magic is already there, just waiting to be formalized by the star spirits. So while I know Uncle Evyd is anxious to secure the conditions of the prophecy, you can’t rush affection. Though you two seem to be getting along, so maybe I am worried for nothing?” He tilted his head.

  Olyn laughed uncomfortably. “We’re learning more about each other, at least. She’s an admirable woman.” He placed his hand on her shoulder, a firm, reassuring touch but lacking the prickle of magic she felt with Kay.

  “Olyn has been very kind.” She forced a smile. After all, whatever displeasure she found in her situation, it wasn’t Olyn’s fault. If anything, Olyn was the only innocent party in this twisted situation—and she the most guilty.

  “Can you talk him into putting it off?” Olyn scratched at his beard.

  “Can you reason with a wailing blizzard?” Clindt snorted. “The only compromise I got out of him was that I talked him down from a public ceremony to a private one with just you, the princess, and any family or friends whose support you feel would bolster your emotional state. Sometimes a feeling of community can increase the chances of the bond taking, but the eyes of strangers would be more unneeded stress.” He shook his head. “They really felt it should be an event, a spectacle, but I pointed out that if it doesn’t take, we can recover easier if the ceremony was private. Take some time, allow you and the princess to try again when your have deepened your natural bond. If it fails publicly, while we can still try again, the failure could cause unrest and panic among the populace.”

  “What would cause the heartbond to fail?” Arynne asked. Kay had told her a little about the ceremony, including that it could fail, but had been vague about the details. “I was under the impression it had to do with fate somehow.”

  “There are three things that can power a heartbond, and you’re right, fate is one, but fate is tricky.” Clindt blinked, and his gray eyes went from a placid gray to a breath-stealing, radiant gold.

  Arynne gasped and staggered back a step.

  Clindt waved his hand in front of Arynne’s face then repeated the movement before Olyn. Olyn stood still, his expression unphased, as if this were normal.

  Clindt’s eyes flickered back to their normal color. “While I’m primarily a mender through my paternal magic, my maternal magic is seeing. I’m afraid it is underdeveloped, but I can still access the ability to see weak images.”

  “What did you see when you examined us just now? Does fate connect us?” Olyn leaned forward.

  “Yes ... and no. As I said, fate is tricky. I can see images of you two together—specifically a strong one where you are clinging to each other over what appears to be a grave.”

  Olyn drew back and Arynne shuddered. “A grave?” they exclaimed as one.

  “I think that’s what it was—the image had a shadow of grief over it. However, whether those shared experiences mean your fate is tied to the extent that would satisfy a heartbond, that is up for interpretation. I would be foolish to say yes or no because I simply don’t know.”

  Arynne tried to untense her muscles, but couldn’t shake the dread Clindt’s vague vision had planted within her. “But you said there are three things that can power the heartbond? What are the other two?”

  “Compatible magic,” Olyn put in. “We’re both magic users, so that is a factor in our favor. However, magical compatibility is almost as tricky as fate. Also, I’ve unfortunately felt no indicator that our magic is eager to bond. Those sorts of connections are supposed to be tangible.”

  “And the third?” Arynne asked. She had a guess but wanted confirmation.

  “Affection.” Clindt gave the expected answer. “True love, to oversimplify it, but it needs to be a strong and proven love, and that’s unusual for newly formed attachments. The only successful heartbondings I’ve overseen were between couples who were multiple starcycles into their union. Twice since my training as a mender, I’ve had the ceremony fail due to couples attempting to rush the process.”

  “But if it fails we can wait and try again?” she asked. “Are there any ill-effects to a failed ceremony?”

  “Other than a sense of inadequacy on my part and probably me getting an earful from an angry, disappointed King Evyd?” Clindt laughed bitterly.

  Arynne smiled sympathetically. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

  “No. Honestly, I shouldn’t even feel culpable if it does fail. The star spirits are the source of all good magic within Frorheim. If they desire for you to be bonded, they will comply to my wishes during the ceremony and tie you together by magic as strong iron chains. If they do not, no effort on my part will convince them. You will remain unbonded.”

  Arynne’s stomach twisted. She had no idea about fate, but her emotional connection to Kay couldn’t be denied and the tickling, prickling feeling within her could be their magic connecting. She had two of three conditions with Kay and none with Olyn—yet the prophecy clearly specified the Star Prince which was Olyn, not Kay. She examined Olyn’s face. He loved his brother, and he hadn’t had a chance to become attached to her yet. Maybe he could be an ally rather than an obstacle. She opened her mouth to request a private conversation—away from his cousin—but before she could, he spoke.

  “Arynne, do you mind if I leave you here for a short while?” Olyn asked. “I want to see if perhaps Clindt and I together can do what Clindt alone could not and convince my father to delay the ceremony a while longer.”

  She nodded. That also might work in her favor. She needed time to think.

  Olyn and Clindt left through the gate. Arynne stood for a moment, considering their departing figures. Then she turned and wandered further into the garden. The path snaked through trees and bushes pruned to resemble various animals, including a cat-owl, before turning to follow the wall in a circuit around the garden.

  She stopped every so often to examine the plants. A scent that reminded her of the powder Sigid had sprinkled in Arynne’s bathwater drew her to a particular tree, small but dripping with clusters of lavender flowers. She cupped her hands around one group of blossoms and
inhaled the intoxicating scent. She would have to ask Olyn what it was called. Maybe she could have some brought to her room.

  The thought of Olyn soured her mood, and she continued to stroll, now focused on the stone path at her feet rather than the lovely flora around her. Even if Olyn loved his brother and wanted him to be happy, he had a responsibility to his kingdom. He wouldn’t risk endangering every man, woman, and child within it by not following the prophecy to the absolute letter. He was too cautious and reliable for that.

  But shouldn’t she be as well? Arynne remembered all Vanya had said about the duties of a queen and his doubts that she could fulfil them. Only a few waking-times within her new kingdom, and already she was thinking of a way to follow her own heart rather than her duty to the people. She cringed. Vanya had been right. She was a selfish, impulsive girl in no way cut out to be the queen of anything—but that didn’t stop her from loving Kajik or make her desire to run from her agreed upon union to Olyn any less poignant. Had she doomed herself to a life of unhappiness?

  The path approached a second gate. Through it echoed the sounds of metal crashing against metal over and over again. She approached and gazed through. On the other side was an open courtyard filled with men in gray warden uniforms standing in groups of two. Their swords flashed in the light of the Starspire, their movements quick and sure ... and there, his height causing him to stand out like a tree in a field, was Kay.

  His name pushed its way into her mouth, but she clamped her lips shut. Instead, she gripped the bars of the grated gate, watching him move swiftly and surely through the motions of the training exercise. In a series of decisive strokes, he knocked his opponent’s sword to the cobblestones. Immediately he stepped back and waited for the other man to reclaim his weapon, so they could start again. This second bout was even quicker, seeming to end as soon as it began.

  Heat flared within her. How could any once consider Kay incompetent? He moved like a sandcat stalking a vole and struck like a desert hawk sighting a snake. Her magic tingled beneath her skin, longing to reach out to him.

  Kay froze mid-strike, his gaze leaving his sparring partner and darting to her. Her heart jumped into her throat.

  A blow from his opponent glanced off his shoulder, snapping him back to attention, and he fought with renewed vigor until the man overseeing the exercises—Jaxon, was his name she thought—shouted and the men fell out of formation. The wardens scattered to rest along the walls or drink from flasks. Kay, however, strode to her, his brow drawn.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice cold.

  She drew herself up taller. “I was taking a walk in the garden, not that it is any of your business.”

  “The garden is that way.” He indicated in the direction behind her. “There’s nothing here for you.”

  Her heart squeezed at the frigidity of his words. “Kay, please—”

  “It’s Kajik,” he said shortly.

  She recoiled as if slapped, her heart feeling as if it had been. She stared at him, his beautiful blue eyes, now icy and hard. Anger replaced the ache. Maybe she’d behaved badly, but she wasn’t the only one at fault. He had drawn her in, flirted with her, showed her affection, and withheld information that might’ve saved her from her costly mistake. Perhaps she had misinterpreted the nature of their relationship, but he was not allowed to take back everything he had given her because of that. That wasn’t how it worked.

  “What about what you said?” she snapped. “About not wanting to lose my friendship? About how I had value to you? Was all that a lie?”

  “Friends don’t force their way between brothers!” he snarled.

  Some of the other wardens looked up from their conversations. Kay dropped his voice. “Look, Arynne, I'm sorry. If I had told you the truth sooner perhaps—things would’ve been different. I’ll own that mistake, even if I didn’t know what would come of it. However, you have to understand, what you want can’t be. For the good of the only person I truly love, for the sake of the kingdom, we can’t ... it’s just easier if we stay away from each other for a while, all right?”

  The only one he truly loves? Than what am I?

  She forced the thought out of her head. “The kingdom doesn’t seem to be in all that much danger to me.” She sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She fought the urge to sulk, to glare at him, to insist on him hearing her out, on being harder to get rid of, at least. As much as she wanted to strike out in sullen anger, Vanya’s disapproval nagged at her. Was he right in his assessment of her character? Spoiled, impulsive, stubborn, selfish, a petulant child rather than a grown woman and a worthy queen.

  A sad smile quirked his mouth. “Well, for what it’s worth, my father and his council agree with you. They don’t believe the warning I gave them about the grimwolves and whoever was following us out there. They seem to think it was a combination of me making excuses for my own failures and your runaway imagination.”

  “They’re wrong!” she gasped. “I know what I saw out there—what we saw!”

  He raised his hand. “Yes, but they couldn’t find evidence beyond my word, and that doesn’t carry as much weight as I’d like here.” He sighed. “I’m campaigning for myself and a small troop of wardens to be allowed to sweep the highway between here and the border, to be sure they’ve at least retreated. Though ideally, I’d like to pursue them, put them down, and be certain there aren’t other packs lurking in the dark wastes.”

  “The dark wastes?” she whispered.

  “It’s what we call the areas far from the starshards or other inhabited areas of Frorheim. Off the roads, away from the settlements, in the deep dark where none go but the few animals suited for life in such cold. We call the land closer to the Starspire and along the road the frozen wastes. It’s not hospitable, but it’s also not lost to us. The dark wastes we only enter if we are on a mission to hunt down terrors that might come into our realms if left to live.”

  “Sounds dangerous.” She reached through the gate, longing to touch him but thought better of it and drew away.

  “Starwarden, remember?” He chuckled. “Danger is part of the duties.”

  “Will you be going soon?” She focused on the twisted metal of the gate, avoiding his face, trying not to think of the misery swelling in her breast.

  “As soon as I’m allowed. Father’s happy to get rid of me, so it’s more a matter of how many other wardens he will grant to accompany me. I’d go on my own, but my chances of actually finding and rooting out the grimwolves would be better with some manpower. I’m hoping to get word before the next dimming.”

  Her jaw dropped, and her gaze shot to his. “So soon?”

  He opened and shut his mouth, then hung his head. “I don’t want to be here for ... Arynne, you need to bond to my brother. The fate of Frorheim depends on it—and he’s a good man. He will be good to you. You’ll be happy. Better off than if—” He swallowed. “I can’t watch, though. I can’t ... I’m not strong enough to stand there and smile while you pledge your life to another. The further from the Starspire I am when you and Olyn go through the ceremony, the better.”

  Her heart twisted. She’d been right. He did care for her ... and he was hurting because of it.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Please, Kay, be careful. Whatever you do, wherever you go, remember that if something happened to you, it would ... hurt Olyn.” And her as well, but somehow she suspected Olyn had more weight.

  “I’ll watch myself. I always do.” He grinned, then stepped away from the gate. “I need to get back to training. Good luck, Arynne.”

  Feeling cold and empty as the frozen wastes, Arynne drifted into the garden again. She found a stone bench beneath another of the purple-blossomed trees and sat with her eyes closed, breathing in the fragrance and trying not to think of Kay.

  A chill settled over Arynne, and the buzz of the bees around the purple flowers fell silent. Shivering, she pulled her cloak closer about her. The fur-lining of the collar br
ushed her cheek, soft but somehow comfortless. A whisper-soft swish as quiet as falling snow, stirred the air, and she opened her eyes. A group of shadows swept through the light of the Starspire, large birds trailing a haze of darkness behind them, smoke without fire.

  Her throat closed in on itself as dread flooded her being. Somehow she managed a strangled shriek, “Grim ... birds!”

  Five monstrous birds of prey dove towards her, talons glinting, with outstretched wings wider than the armspan of a grown man. Instinctively, her magic sprang from her blood. She threw out her hands and a wall of fire flashed before her. The birds—owls, she now realized—spun to the side, just in time to avoid a collision with the flames. The grimowls gave a shrill, ominous screech.

  Recovering quickly, they wheeled about in the sky and dove again, now too spread out to take down with a single blast. This time, Arynne focused, imagining a tower of flame erupting from her palm. A bolt of fire, red and roaring, shot like a thrown spear. A grimowl burst into smoke. Another bolt flew, a second fell. They were almost upon her. Heart pounding, she shot a quick burst. It clipped the wing of the closest owl which spiraled to the earth.

  She conjured a shield of heat before her, protecting her face. The two remaining owls circled behind her. The tear of fabric and the pain of claws ripping through the flesh of her back sent Arynne to her knees. She screamed.

  Magic charged the air. A blast of light hit a grimowl which exploded in a cloud of black feathers and sickly smoke. A man towered over Arynne, though from her crouched position, all she could see were booted feet and dazzling flashes of pure white light. The remaining grimowl gave a keening cry, then all was quiet.

  Trembling with pain and cold, Arynne tried to stand, but the effort pulsed agony through her. Hot, sticky blood seeped into her garments, pasting the cloth to her skin.

  A hand gripped her shoulder. “Arynne, are you all right?”