The rivers kept freezing. When the moon rose, a cold crept over the kingdom in sharp, jagged claws, shredding our crops, rivers, livestock, in blistering burns from ice and frost.
By midday the sun heated enough to wet our throats, scavenge what roots we could, and fill water troughs for the sheep and goats who survived the night.
Soon there would be nothing left. I could feel it to my bones, but where else would we go? The nearest kingdom belonged to the Night Folk fae.
In recent years the fae had crossed borders, made more efforts at peace with my people. The fae queen had even sent one of her nobles to take up an embassy of sorts here in Timoran.
The efforts were rather pathetic. Night Folk and their tricky fury magic had power over the earth. They could help it thrive.
They could help Timoran live, not die.
But we still froze and had fewer crops every damn turn.
“Lili! Watch it!”
The hiss of wind over steel stirred me from my thoughts. I wheeled around in time to match my worn seax against the curve of a battle axe.
“Dreaming again, mountain girl?”
“You only wish.” I shoved back, nicking the boy’s wrist with the tip of my blade. “Shame, even your cowardly strike from behind failed, Njord.”
Nearly two heads taller, Njord laughed. His white smile lost to the cold blue of the day, and with the sparring field holding tight to the buds of frost from the night before, and the paleness of his braided hair matched the frozen blades of grass.
Njord did not fight fair, but that was probably a good thing.
As a future member of the king’s guard, he ought to be accustomed to killing no matter what rules were broken.
His mistake—one he made constantly—was underestimating me.
Njord whipped the cutting edge of his sword for my chest, I bent backward. The slice of his sword whipped wind over my cheeks. Njord stepped right; I went left. We danced time and again, clashing blades, spitting blood, until our matches ended in a draw over and over.
Arms aching, I drew down a heavy swing. My sword’s edge collided with his, and we both stumbled to our knees, breathless.
“All right, call it.” Prince Eli shouted, stepping between us.
“Was this even an official spar? Cowardly strikes,” I said, breathless.
Eli smirked. “Sweet Lili, cheap strikes keep us on our guard. It’s a draw, my friends.”
“Bleeding hells,” Njord muttered under his breath.
I tossed my sword, and stood, lacing my fingers behind my head. Deep in my lungs, each breath burned, and layered my tongue in a coppery taste. In the cold air, my body couldn’t decide if it preferred to shiver or sweat. Truth be told, most days in Timoran were spent in a combination of both.
With a bit of reluctance, Njord held out one arm. I clasped his forearm, as expected, but turned my glare to the arrogant chuckle behind us.
Prince Eli, the heir apparent of our vast wasteland, grinned over the thick cloak of furs wrapped around his broad shoulders. “Don’t look so annoyed, Lili. You should be pleased. At least Njord did not pin you—”
“Like last time,” Njord interjected.
Eli draped his arm around my shoulders, grinning. “Forgive me, but I had to call it. It wouldn’t do to have you killing my lead guard, would it?”
I snorted a laugh and sheathed the narrow seax. “You could always instate me as your lead guard. I promise, My Prince, to be vastly more entertaining than Njord Ohövlig.”
“There is no one as entertaining as me, mountain girl.”
“This will brighten your spirits. As I recall if Njord did not win, then he was to be tasked with cleaning the sparring fields.”
Njord narrowed his eyes. “I did not lose!”
“Ah, but you did not win either,” said the prince.
I snickered.
True, Prince Eli considered us both his friends, but I always appreciated being favored a little more than anyone else. Bound to happen when we’d grown up together since infancy. Of course, I resided in a cottage on the royal lands, he lived in a palace.
But in moments a this, when no one from our separate lives was near, we could be Lilianna and Eli. Friends. Not huntress and prince.
Njord muttered under his breath when Eli pointed to the mess of blades, shields, and padded armor strewn across the chilly grass. “See it done.”
I dug the knife a little deeper with a wink, then left with the prince. Eli kept his arm around my shoulders as he led us from the practice field toward the arcades that would open to the main square of Timoran.
Despite the cold, the market bustled in hawkers and traders. Hot stones for warming boots and beds. Fresh straw for filling mattresses and insulating walls. Strips of dried herring and salted salmon. Folk bowed their heads to Eli as we walked past, some greeted me, and halfway through the square, I noticed two palace guards trudging behind us.
Eli came to my side. “I know you wish to be in the court when I take the crown. And I know you don’t like me saying this, but you can be part of it.”
The prince slipped his fingers into mine.
I tilted my head and sighed. “Eli, I have been raised with bows, arrows, and knives. I hunt for the king, and spar with the prince. I wish to serve you as a blade.”
“But you know that isn’t possible.”
I scoffed and returned my attention to the fabrics on a merchant’s cart. Eli came around the other side, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“What is so wrong with what I’m saying? You are, perhaps, the person who knows me the best. You would be who I trusted the most to tell me if I were being a bleeding fool. I’d do the same, Lili, I swear to you.”
I chuckled. “My dear prince, you would never have reason to call me a fool.”
Eli came close; close enough my smile faded, and my pulse raced. He lowered his voice, eyes locked on me. “You could be part of my court, Lilianna. I would never dull your spirit, it is what I value so much about you. Will you not even consider it?”
I looked away, all games lost between us. “Eli, as we speak, your father is negotiating your second consort. You already have one woman, soon you will have two.”
“They are not you,” he says. “You know the king insists I take consorts, and he would not object to you.”
“I feel the bed would be rather crowded.”
A bit of pink tinted Eli’s cheeks. “Not if it were only ours.”
“You forget, Eli, I know you well. I’m not sure one lover would be enough.”
His grin was boyish, and it was a knife to the chest. We were not old, both only twenty turns, but soon Eli would bear the weight of this wretched kingdom. I feared a bit of light would leave his eyes when the mantle became his to bear. I wanted to serve him, to be a trusted ally, and I understood he asked me to take up a place as a consort as my friend.
Consort to the king of Timoran would provide the palace wealth to me and my daj. We’d be looked after, protected.
But such a life, sharing a man who could demand my affections as he pleased, was of little interest.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, using his finger to tilt my chin. “But I would not neglect you, nor use you. Unlike the consorts my father chooses, you and I already have affection for each other. My father ages, Lili, and I will be king soon enough. I only wish to care for you and your family. No friend is dearer to me than you.”
A smile cut over my lips. I rested a hand over Eli’s heart. “You are kind, My Prince. And you will always have my loyalty, even if I do not share your bed.”
He rolled his eyes, but pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. “You know this will not be the last time I ask.”
“You, giving up easily?” I feigned surprise. “What would that be like?”
We laughed together, and continued through the market. By the time we reached the final vendors the sun broke through the gray haze of morning, and frosts dampened the cobbled walks. Warmth and sunlight always shifted the mood in Timoran. More smiles, more laughter, less thick pelts hiding faces from neighbors.
From the gates of the square, a ram’s horn blew. I lifted my gaze to the heavy portcullis. Iron clanged and clattered as the gate rose and a line of horses and a black wagon pulled into the square. Folk scattered, some tipped their heads in respect. At my side, Eli stiffened. He puffed out his chest, as if he refused to give away a hint of honor to the approaching riders.
If my prince did not bend, I would not either.
I stepped closer to Eli as the lead guards trotted past. They did not even glance at the Timoran prince. Doubtless their perceived self-importance prevented them from seeing royalty.
They wore cowls lined in fur, hiding the tapered points of their ears, but the fae guards were armed in shields, axes, and swords more than our own people.
Behind half a dozen lead riders, the wagon rambled past. With the windows opened, I caught a clear view of the Night Folk Ambassador. His face was made of sharp edges, his straight hair hit his shoulders like black silk. The fae held his chin high; he did not make the effort to even glance at the folk in the streets.
From what Eli told me, Herr Vargus was a pious fae who wanted to reside in Timoran as much as we wanted the man to be here.
Since the fae queen in the kingdom of Etta began peace treaties between our kingdoms, more Night Folk took up residences in Timoran. It wasn’t as if Etta and Timoran were always at war, simply . . . tense.
Fae had magic, they hoarded it from their allies. They watched us suffer, giving few supplies during our harsh winters during the trade seasons. But for what they did provide, the royal fae expected Timorans to offer fine manors for their nobility on the ambassador’s land.
Most Night Folk never lasted long living on this side of the peaks; the cold cut through their dainty fae bodies, I supposed.
But Vargus had been here for the last three turns. He was a wealthy fae, a man of status in his kingdom, and behaved much the same in ours.
“Wonder where our dear Ambassador has been this morning?” I said, snidely.
“Probably staring at his reflection somewhere.”
“Do you think he intentionally drives through the square when it is busiest, simply to get folk to look at him.”
“Without a doubt.” Eli chuckled, and slung an arm around my shoulders again. “Daj told me a few of the Night Folk courtiers are planning to come for the solstice feast. I’d guess Vargus is busy arranging for their arrival at the pass.”
My chest cinched. “All gods! The feast. Eli, I am due at the hunting post—” I glanced to the sun high overhead. “Damn! I should’ve been there already. I must go.”
“Lili, let me take you. Fin will not shout at you if I am there.”
I kissed his cheek, smiling. “You are a hero, but I am not your damsel in distress. Don’t worry for me, I can handle Fin.”
“You shouldn’t be going with storms on the brink.”
“But then who would make sure your princely plates are filled with meat?” I leveraged out of his grip, and started to dart through the vendors. “See you in the morning.”
“Be careful up there!” Eli shouted at my back.
I responded with a wave over my shoulder. Monthly hunts on the peaks meant rough terrain, frigid nights, and unpredictable weather.
Skilled with the bow, I’d been selected over a turn ago to serve as one of the royal hunters. I lived for the thrill of it all.
But the truth was if I did not find a place in this kingdom, find some kind of use before my twenty-first turn, even with the affection and friendship of the prince, I would be given as a serf to earn my keep, vowed to a man I could never love, or sent to serve the Night Folk as a sign of good faith.
Perhaps, I ought to consider Eli’s offer of consort more thoroughly.
I shook my head. No. In Timoran we survived. I could be a huntress, and I could find my own way. If I could prove myself, the king might offer me a coveted place amongst the Valkyrie Archers.
Skilled women who defended the keep from high towers.
It had been my ambition for the last four turns, but I had not been accepted yet. Part of me wondered if Eli did not speak for me to his father because he would rather I be a consort.
I shook my head. No, he would not do such a thing. But I did not have any other prospects. Not in battle or love. At least not any that were truly satisfactory.
After watching my mother and father create a beautiful, loving life together, I’d always known if I ever gave my heart to another it would be for love.
It would be real and lasting.
As much as cared for and loved Prince Eli, his heart would never be mine alone. He valued me, true, but he found too much pleasure in the Timoran culture of multiple consorts and wives.
The odds of someone like me, a woman with no dowry, no family status, finding a match rife with love was rarer than a warm Timoran night.
It simply wasn’t what fate had in mind. Not for me.