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ERIK AND ANDERS ARE both asleep when we return to our camp. Sephia snaps her fingers and they sit up, startled as deer facing a hunter.
“I did not mean to ... Sephia, what are you doing here?” Erik leaps to his feet, his searching gaze sliding from my face to Gerda’s and Sephia’s before focusing on Thyra. “And who are you?”
“You were under an enchantment.” Sephia brushes back her hair with one hand. “No, not mine. It was Sten Rask, who captured Gerda and Varna. He has gone now,” she adds, as Erik reaches for his musket.
Anders looks stricken. “Gerda, are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” She sits beside him.
“This is Thyra Winther.” Sephia gestures toward the other woman. “She is a friend.”
The smile that brightens Thyra’s sharp-featured face holds more than a trace of irony. “Hello, you must be Erik Stahl and Anders Nygaard. I just met Varna, and of course I know Gerda.” She glances into the woods. “Luki, you may come out now. I think these men will act sensibly.” She eyes Erik until he lays down his musket.
The wolf trots out from the trees to stand at Thyra’s side. Erik gasps and Anders grips Gerda’s hand while staring at Thyra and Luki. He opens his mouth as if to speak, then shakes his head and remains silent.
“Is Freya with you too?” Gerda pats Anders’s shoulder. “Her horse.”
“Oh.” He blinks rapidly.
“Yes, in the woods. Bae’s watching over her.” Thyra whistles and a compact bay mare appears, trailed by the reindeer.
Erik gazes at Thyra with blatant admiration. “Have you been following us?”
Thyra grabs the horse’s bridle and strokes the animal’s satiny neck. “Yes. I’ve been shadowing you, to keep watch over Gerda in particular.”
“Because of the mirror?” I ask.
Thyra shoots me a look cold as an ice spear. “What do you know of that?”
I meet Thyra’s piercing stare and hold it. “It’s what Rask wants—for Gerda to tell him the location of the mirror.”
“She does not know where it is,” says the former Snow Queen.
“Yes, but for some reason Rask will not believe us.”
“Because of the tear.” Gerda rises to her feet. “He must have obtained that information, although I don’t know how.”
“Tear?” Erik glances from Sephia to Thyra. “What is this? Varna and Gerda told us about Rask, and the whole mirror thing, but no one has mentioned a tear.”
“You must get Gerda to explain.” Thyra’s expression softens. “It was her magic, after all.”
“Magic? Gerda isn’t a sorceress or mage or anything like that.” It’s clear from Anders’s expression that he desperately hopes this is true.
“No, and neither am I,” Thyra says. “Not anymore. Still, not all magic is wielded by sorcerers.”
“You stood up to Rask without possessing any magic?” I examine the pale young woman, who meets my gaze with a lift of her pointed chin.
“I had Sephia at my back and Luki at my side. Besides”—she shrugs—“I have faced worse.”
Erik kicks a smoldering branch back onto the fire. “I’m still confused. I understand how Thyra was able to be here, since she was following us, but how did you arrive so quickly, Sephia? We left your home this morning, and have traveled far.”
The enchantress smiles. “I have my ways, although I prefer to use them infrequently.” Her eyes cloud over. “Magic, despite what many may think, is neither simple nor painless. There is thought and preparation involved in wielding great power. It is how I was able to overcome Sten Rask, at least for the moment. Sometimes a sorcerer can be defeated, if they do not expect the attack.” She casts a significant glance at Thyra, who turns away and toys with the girth of Freya’s saddle.
“You’re only a day’s journey from the city.” Thyra places her booted foot in her stirrup and gracefully swings up onto Freya’s back, exposing a pair of breeches beneath her rumpled skirt. “I will continue to shadow you. First, though, I must deliver some messages. Bae, will you carry Sephia back to her home before you rejoin Gerda and the others?”
“Yes, my queen.” Bae lowers his head.
Thyra frowns. “I am no one’s queen.”
“You will always be mine.” The reindeer’s glistening dark eyes focus on the former Snow Queen.
Gerda steps up and grabs Freya’s bridle. She stares up at Thyra. “How is Kai? I’ve received letters, but he has not been home in some time.”
Thyra’s face freezes into an icy mask. “I don’t know. I have not seen him.”
Gerda’s blue eyes widen. “Why not?”
“Do you remember the letter I sent you, Gerda? The one where I confessed what I had done?” Thyra glances over at me. “I could have rescued Kai’s father from the blizzard that froze him into insensibility, and eventually killed him. But I did not. Oh, I did not mean for anyone to die,” she adds, obviously reading the horror on my face. “Still, I choose to protect myself and abandon Nicholas Thorsen to his fate.” She fiddles with her reins. “At the time I thought I had good reason to do so. I now know better.”
“The letter? That was months ago and I told you ... ” Gerda shakes her head. “I wrote you back and said it was fine to inform me in a letter but you should tell Kai in person. I warned you to wait until you came home.”
Thyra’s clear eyes narrow. “Yes, but I had already written you both. I sent those letters on the same day.”
Gerda takes two steps back. “How did he respond?”
“He didn’t.” Thyra lays one rein against Freya’s neck and turns her away from us. “I never heard from him again.” She gives the mare a gentle kick and heads off without looking back. Luki follows the horse, his tail swinging from side to side.
I watch until they disappear amid the trees. “That’s a sad turn of events.”
“It is tragic,” says my sister, her eyes brimming with tears. “I will not allow that to stand. I will talk to Kai and sort this out.”
She has a mulish look on her face—the expression she wears when determined to follow some course of action, no matter where it leads.
Kai Thorsen, you do not stand a chance.
Erik runs his hands through his hair, obviously uncomfortable with our conversation. “Since we must travel at first light, we need to get some rest.” He sketches an awkward bow in Sephia’s direction. “Thank you again, my lady.”
“No thanks needed, Erik Stahl, but your courtesy is appreciated.” Sephia tears her gaze from the spot where Thyra disappeared. She turns to Gerda and embraces her. “Do not fret, little one. We shall set this right, in time.”
“Of course we will.” Gerda huffs back a sob and returns the hug. “Bae, come and carry Sephia home.”
The reindeer ambles forward and stands quietly as Erik helps Sephia climb up onto his broad back. She flashes us a dazzling smile before Bae trots toward the road.
Gerda pulls another blanket from her rucksack. “Grab yours as well, Varna. I’m sure Sephia provided us each with one.” She spreads the blanket near Anders. “We can curl up together.”
“Bring me your pistol, I’ll keep watch.” Anders waves away Erik’s protests. “I’ve had more sleep than any of us. You grab some rest and relieve me later.”
Erik grumbles, but hands Anders his flintlock before slumping onto the blanket beside him.
I lay my blanket over Gerda’s and sit down. It does feel wonderful to be off my feet, and to have a chance to think. Rubbing a spot on my shoulder where Rask clutched me, I sigh deeply.
“Are you all right?” Erik glances at me as if he has just realized I exist. “Sephia said you were held captive as well.”
I lower my head. “I am fine.”
“He did not hurt you, did he? You or Gerda?” Erik’s voice trails off as his head droops to his chest.
“No. At least, nothing serious.” I press two fingers to my lips, which feel odd. They’re tingling, as if some numbness is wearing off.
Gerda snores lightly. I glance at Erik, who has drifted into sleep. Giving Anders an encouraging smile, I sink down onto the blankets beside my sister.
Behind my closed eyelids, all I can see is Sten Rask’s face.
Desire. He said he could give you what you desire, Varna. Beauty, power...
I break into a sweat, but wrap one section of the blanket tighter about me. It clasps me like hands, clutching me close, holding me. I fling one arm over my face and press my mouth against my damp skin.
I can still feel those lips on mine. They were so fierce, and yet, there was a frisson of pleasure amid the pain.
It is a great relief when the darkness takes me.
***
AFTER AN UNEVENTFUL day of travel, we reach the gates of the city. It’s simple enough to blend in with the crowd filling the main square. Erik has us stow our rucksacks in a lean-to shed behind a dilapidated tavern.
“I’ve used this before,” he says, when I shoot him a questioning look. “For the occasional bottle of brandy and such.”
“That we were not supposed to have,” Anders says.
“Right.” Erik wipes the grin from his face. “Now, let’s go. We don’t want to linger.”
I spy a large fountain and make my way to the stone wall enclosing its basin.
“Heavenly.” I splash my face with the cool water.
“We should move along,” Erik says, as the clock in the tower overlooking the square chimes the hour.
The figures in the clock chase one another around their mechanical track. Anders, who has walked the entire day, slumps next to me on the stone rim of the fountain.
“One moment of rest, please,” he begs.
Erik’s gaze darts about. “Very well. Just remember, we cannot stay in the open for long.”
I dip my hands in the fountain, enjoying the cooling touch of the water. For some reason, ever since Rask laid hands on me, I feel as hot as if I’ve been overcome by fever. “Erik, give Anders some of that medicine Sephia packed. It should help.”
Erik grumbles but pulls the bottle from his rucksack and hands it to Anders.
“There’s the University.” Gerda points toward the towers rising above a mosaic of tiled and thatched roofs. “Kai said there were towers.”
Erik stuffs the medicine bottle into the pocket of his long coat. “I think finding the townhouse owned by the Strykers is probably more useful than tracking down this Kai fellow.”
Anders wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It would be in the better part of town, close to the Opera House.”
Erik’s sour expression conveys his opinion of this information.
“We could take Anders by the Opera House,” Gerda suggests, “then Varna and I could investigate the location of the Stryker’s’ home. If you would rather check on some of your friends, Erik, and see if they will help you and Anders, I believe that might prove a good division of labor.”
I study my sister’s deceptively innocent expression. I must remember she’s managed a mill and its rough workers for a few years. Despite her gentle appearance, there is a core of iron inside my sister’s soft body, and a fine mind beneath her crown of golden hair.
“Very well.” Erik adjusts the collar of his loose white shirt. “That does sound like a reasonable plan.”
Gerda smiles sweetly. “Where can we meet you? We should rendezvous somewhere, just to make sure we are all safe.”
“Why not the Opera House? The stage door. Anders knows where it is.” Erik narrows his eyes at Anders. “Just don’t expect too much. You haven’t seen Christiane in some time.”
“You mean, since I became a cripple.” Anders’s expression matches his resigned tone. “Yes, I know she may reject me, but I must let her know the truth. It’s only fair.”
Erik’s eyes cloud with doubt. “I’m not sure fairness comes into it. Still, I suppose it is best to approach such challenges head on.” He lays one hand on Anders’s fine-boned shoulder. “Just be prepared, my friend.” Giving Anders’s shoulder a final pat, he disappears into the crowd.
Anders pushes himself to his feet with the aid of his cane. “I think I can walk now, although I may need to lean on you from time to time.”
Gerda’s expression is uncharacteristically solemn. “We will help anyway we can, right, Varna?”
“Of course.” I place my hand under Anders’s elbow. “Anyway we can.”
Even if it breaks my sister’s heart. I peek around behind Anders’s back and catch Gerda’s eye. No need for this, I mouth at her.
She shakes her head and stares straight ahead, matching her stride to Anders’s halting gait.
I know she won’t come between Anders and his sweetheart, no matter how much she loves him. Because she is Gerda Lund, and she’ll always do what is best for others, regardless of what it costs her.
I set my mouth in a tight line. I am not so nice, or kind. We shall see what can be done about this Christiane Bech.
