Frost (38 page)

Charlotte grabbed my hand, and we ran.

The crisp night air burned my lungs as I sprinted forward, and snowflakes whipped past, peppering my face. Running through the snow was a little like running in my dreams. I was sprinting as fast as I could, running so hard my legs burned, yet somehow, it wasn't fast enough.

Behind us, a shout went up, and I glanced over my shoulder.

The moonlight illuminated a silhouette running across the snow toward the palace, arms waving. The keeper of the drawbridge.

Loki was right. Soon, everyone would know. The queen would send soldiers after us.

Loki could have easily outrun both of us. Instead, he hung back, looking over his shoulder. Finally, we were over the moat, heading toward the tree line.

"So far so good.” He was barely breathing hard. "It will take a while to alert the guard. We have a head start. Of course...they'll have horses."

Horses. I tried to run faster, but it only sent sharp jabs of pain through my leg muscles, and I was pretty sure my lungs were about to burst. They had horses. How were we supposed to outrun them? It was impossible.

We made it into the shelter of the trees. Maybe we could hide somewhere.

Deeper into the forest, the snow was up to my ankles now, and I cursed under my breath. My thigh muscles were burning, and I prayed that the drifts didn’t get any deeper.

I had to blink flakes from my eyelashes, and as Charlotte ran ahead of me, past one of the fir trees, a branch snapped back, whipping me in the face. 

I swallowed a cry of pain and pressed forward, my cheek burning. The snow was getting deeper, spraying up as we threw ourselves forward. Each time I dragged another breath in, it pierced my lungs like shards of glass. Cold air slapped my cheeks, and pellets of ice blinded me. It felt like we’d been running for forever.

Behind me, Charlotte was wheezing, her face bright red, and she stumbled every few steps.

There’s no way we’re going to make it.
I ground my teeth together and forced myself to keep going. Loki would have to leave us behind. It was important that he got to his people.

A shout echoed through the forest. The wind brought the sounds of men calling to one another and dogs barking.

"Up ahead!" someone yelled.

My skin went hot and cold, and I tried to put on a burst of speed, stumbling and nearly going down for my effort. Loki gestured for us to keep running, and his grim expression scared me more than our pursuers did.

We kept going as far as we could. To my horror, the snow only got deeper the farther we moved into the cover of the woods. They were on horseback, and the crashing behind us signaled how fast they were catching up. They could travel much faster through the drifts.

My heart had turned to ice. Melted snow ran through my veins. We were going to die.

Up ahead Loki kept searching the forest, head swivelling constantly, like he was looking for something. I could have told him there was no way out.

The snow crunched on either side, and shadows flew through the trees, stretching ahead of them. A familiar voice rang out in the distance. I couldn't make out the words, but the tone was mocking. Gunnar.

Panic crystallized my lungs, and white spots danced in front of my eyes. The queen must have released him and sent him after me. That could only mean one thing.

She didn't want me alive.

He must have jumped at the opportunity to pursue us. By now, some of the guards had outpaced us and circled back, cutting us off. It was over. I couldn't move.

 Gunnar emerged from the trees less than ten feet away on a black horse, and like death embodied, his pale, angular face stretched in a skeleton's grin. He was enjoying this already.

"Did you think you would get away? Even if you did initially, the queen would never stop hunting you. You never stood a chance."

Loki tensed beside me, crouched in the snow, his sword gripped in both hands. I kept the tip of my katana hovering in the space between Gunnar and me—it was the only thing separating me from death.

It wouldn't be enough to stop the assassin.

"You may have been her favorite little experiment. But you're a failed one. She's decided it's time to start over."" Gunnar leapt off his horse and landed gracefully in the snow. He rolled his neck and shrugged his shoulders, like he was limbering up. "I’m going to enjoy this.”

Loki stepped in front of us, his sword raised.

The other guards—I counted six of them—moved closer, their weapons leveled at us, hemming us in. Gunnar completely ignored Loki, keeping that cold, flat expression directed at me. He flicked a hand and one of the guards jumped forward, swinging his weapon.

Loki met him with his sword raised. His feet slid in the snow as their swords crashed together. He had time for one wide-eyed look back over his shoulder, and then a second guard jumped in.

Gunnar stepped closer. "Goodbye, Amora."

He raised his sword, and I found myself frozen.

Gunnar swung. Smile wide, sword glittering. In the back of my mind, Amora stirred, but she was too slow. Far too slow.

A hiss and a
thunk
sounded, and the assassin jerked his sword back, staggering sideways. All I could think was that Loki had done something to him, but Loki was staring at him too, his eyes wide.

Two guards lay at Loki’s feet, and one had an arrow in his chest. The same type of arrow jutted up from Gunnar's leather jerkin, its bright-red tail standing out against the black fabric.

The guards whirled around, their swords raised, as a cool voice from the trees spoke.

"I never liked him anyways."

On the other side of us, emerging from the trees, was an opposing army. Tall, blond men on horseback, all carrying bows with arrows notched and pointed at our attackers. Some were dressed in chain mail and leather jerkins, the uniform of the palace. Others were in brown servant’s garb. A few women rode among them, and one even carried a child in a sling on her back.

At the front of the army, and obviously in charge, was a tall, broad-shouldered man on a silver palomino. He wore a helmet with a jutting face guard that covered his nose and cheeks, and his voice was firm and deep.

"Hello, Amora." The man pulled his helmet off and ran his fingers through his short, blond hair, making it stick up wildly.

My rescuer was Erik.

One of the elite guards finally spoke up, a shorter jotun with a shield strapped to his back. "You would betray your queen, captain?"

"You're surprised by this?" Erik's voice was bitter. "I turned on her the moment she had her own daughter executed. There was unrest before that—but when she had Amora killed, I started the uprising. She’s so blind to what goes on around her that it wasn't hard. You know as well as I do she's heading for insanity. You should come with us."

"So, that's it? You doom yourself over a fling with a dirty human?" The guard glanced sideways at me, his mouth twisted with disgust.

"This isn't just about her and you know that." Erik's face was stern. "And you keep a civil tongue in your mouth if you wish to keep it."

"Fine. All of you are deemed traitors to the crown. Every last one!” He spat on the ground near Erik’s feet. “We will report this directly to the queen—you can be sure of it."

One of the rebels spoke up as the three guards began to back away, their swords still raised. "We should kill them so they don't report back."

"No," Erik said calmly. "The queen will know in a few minutes anyways."

I stared in open-mouthed shock as the guards remounted their horses and turned around. They were actually leaving. They didn't look back at Gunnar once as they rode away. The assassin lay sprawled on the ground, a bright pool of blood soaking the snow around him.

Everyone remained still until the guards were out of sight, and the silence of the snowy forest was complete, until it was shattered by a great cheer. The rebels came all at once, leaping off their horses and charging over to the three of us. Instinctively, I braced myself, but the first one to approach vigorously shook my hand, his eyes shining with excitement.

"What a blow to the queen!" he cried. "What a loss!"

More rebels crowded behind him, apparently all eager to shake my hand and slap my back. They slugged Loki on the shoulder good-naturedly and hugged Charlotte, who looked just as shocked as I was.

It was confusing and overwhelming, and I nodded and smiled at everyone, not sure what to say.

Erik laughed, calling down from his horse, "Come on. They've had an exhausting day. Let's show them how we live!"

More cheers erupted, and I gasped as Erik reached down and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me in front of him on the saddle. I stiffened.

This version of Erik seemed different. He was no longer the formal, rigid leader of the elite guard. Now, he was some kind of Robin Hood, laughing and joking with his rebels, swooping people up onto horses. Did I even know the real Erik?

He hadn’t trusted me enough to talk to me about this. I'd agonized over my choices for days, not knowing who I could trust, and he'd let me worry without saying anything when he could have warned me against the queen from day one.

His voice was low in my ear as we rode. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything sooner. It was vital I bide my time, to stay hidden until I couldn't any longer."

Too shocked to say anything, I just nodded, glancing over my shoulder as the horses moved through the trees. Loki was still on the ground, his arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the fact that rebels were passing him on either side. He was staring at Erik's back, eyes narrow.

I had to hold a snort of amusement back when one of the women—a huge, strong-looking blonde with her hair done in braids—leaned over and hoisted Loki up onto her saddle with her. She shot him a coy look.

Loki, for his part, looked terrified.

Charlotte squeaked when she was picked up, but the dismay quickly turned to delight. As her horse drew even with mine, she gave me a little wave. "Isn't this exciting?"

Trust Charlotte to treat it like a ride in the country. Personally, I had never ridden a horse, and I hated it right away. If Erik hadn't been right behind me, with his arms on either side of my waist, I probably would have toppled off.

Erik spoke into my ear again, making me jump. "I tracked your progress from the palace to the woods, but then I had to go back and give my men the signal."

I turned my head so he could hear me. “That was you back in the palace too, wasn’t it? The distraction.”

“It was. I’d guessed what you were planning, and managed to coordinate with Loki while he was in the dungeon, as much as it might be against my better judgment.” He sighed. “I figured out pretty fast afterword, that he hadn’t actually been attacking you.”

I felt my face burn, and straightened my shoulders. I had nothing to apologize for. "I appreciate the rescue. I really do. But why didn't you tell me?"

Erik shifted in the saddle. "I'm sorry. I felt I didn’t have time to explain all of…this.” He gestured around us at the rebels.”

Fair point. “Okay, but not just your plans then. Why didn’t you tell me how evil the queen was, and about what really happened to Amora?”

I had to be sure you were solidly against the queen. That you were trustworthy."

"And I wasn't?" I turned to glare at him.

Erik shook his head. "No! I mean...yes, you were. You are. I was going to tell you that night..." He trailed off, but I knew what he meant.

The night we were supposed to go on the walk together, the night he’d found Loki in my room and thought he was attacking me. I turned back, my face was probably bright red by now. For a moment, there was silence, and I found myself annoyed at how much I was being jostled around. It was hard to think of something to say with the stupid horse distracting me.

"Loki's okay," I said, trying to make my voice sound firm. "He isn't trying to hurt me."

"We don't know that yet. We have to be sure."

My fingers tightened on the pommel of the saddle. "What do you mean you have to be sure? What are you going to do?"

"Nothing," he said, and he sounded hurt. "We'll just ask him questions. We're not like the queen, Megan. We'd never torture or kill anyone just because we wanted information. That's exactly why I created the rebellion in the first place—to stop those things from happening." His voice grew louder as he spoke, filled with passion. "Our goal is to 
stop
 her. To put an end to her reign. We have to stop this war she's so determined to have. She's going to destroy herself and everyone else with her. There are more joining us from the palace every day."

He fell silent, and we both rode without talking for quite some time. My brain was busy trying to process all of this. Did I stay with the rebels? Did I ally myself with them and try to bring the queen down?  It was a good cause; there was no arguing that. But I'd planned on running away to avoid a battle. This was the literal definition of “out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

I glanced at my katana. Erik had tied the sheath to the side of the horse, probably fearing I'd accidentally poke his eye out if he let me hold it. Could I kill people if I had to? I’d hardly been able to bring myself to knock out that guard when we had been escaping the palace. Swallowing hard, I looked straight ahead. 

Don't think about it.