THE DUCHESS OF FROST

Elara Vance

The wind on the battlements didn't just bite; it screamed. Below the iron-plated walls of the fortress, the valley was a sea of torches. Caspian’s "liberation force" a mix of Royal Guards and mercenaries he had likely hired in secret, had set up a perimeter just out of bowshot.

Kaelen stood at the center of the ramparts, a silhouette of jagged steel against the moon. Beside him, Lady Isolde held her crossbow with white-knuckled intensity.

"He's calling for a parley," Isolde spat, nodding toward a lone rider approaching the gate with a white flag. "He says if we hand over the 'abducted' Lady Vance, he will withdraw and wait for the King's tribunal. He’s playing the hero for the history books."

"He's playing for time," Kaelen growled. "He wants us to open the wicket gate so he can slip more Soul-Echoes inside."

"Then let's give him a different story," I said, stepping onto the stone walkway.

The soldiers near the stairs parted for me. I had discarded my torn Southern silks. In their place, I wore a heavy mantle of black wolf fur over a tunic of Northern wool. I looked less like a lady of the court and more like a queen of the wastes.

Kaelen caught my arm, his eyes flashing with concern. "Elara, stay back. Their archers are looking for a target."

"They won't shoot the woman they're here to 'save,' Kaelen. It would ruin the optics." I looked down at the lone rider. It wasn't Caspian; it was one of his sycophants, a young knight named Sir Alistair.

"Lower the drawbridge," I commanded.

"Elara... " Kaelen started.

"Trust me," I whispered, touching the hilt of the dagger at my waist. "He thinks I’m the victim. Let’s show him I’m the judge."

The massive chains groaned, and the drawbridge lowered just a few feet, enough for me to stand at the edge, suspended over the freezing moat. The torchlight hit me, making the pale skin of my face glow against the dark fur.

"Sir Alistair!" I shouted, my voice carrying through the crisp air. "Return to your master. Tell Lord Caspian that the Lady Elara Vance is dead."

A ripple of murmurs went through the camp below. Alistair looked up, squinting through the snow. "My Lady? We are here to rescue you! The Duke has bewitched you with Northern sorcery... "

"The Duke has done nothing but give me a home that doesn't smell of jasmine and betrayal!" I held up my hand, showing the blood-oath scar on my palm, now glowing faintly from the Thorne Chronology’s binding. "I am Elara Thorne, Duchess of the North. I am here by my own will, bound by my own blood. If you take one step closer to these gates, you aren't rescuing a lady, you are invading the home of a sovereign Duchess. That is not a rescue. It is an act of war against the Crown’s own vassals."

“Ting.”

The Archivist didn't appear in the shadows this time. He appeared standing on the very edge of the drawbridge, his feet hovering over the abyss.

“Task Twelve: A Queen must have a crown. To break the morale of the Southern knights, you must manifest the ‘Frost-Glow.’ Use the heat of the mark behind your ear to ignite the air around you. Show them the North has claimed you.”

I closed my eyes. I didn't fight the burning behind my ear this time. I leaned into it. I thought of the well where I had died. I thought of the cold tea. I thought of the fire Kaelen had lit in my soul.

Suddenly, the air around me began to shimmer. The falling snowflakes didn't melt; they crystallized into glowing, sapphire-blue sparks that swirled around my head like a halo of stars.

The knights below gasped, some even falling back in fear. In a world of fading magic, this was a terrifying omen. To them, it looked like the North itself had chosen me.

"Leave!" I commanded, my voice amplified by the swirling frost. "Or stay and let the mountains bury you."

From the back of the camp, a single horse moved forward. Caspian rode into the light. He didn't look afraid. He looked at me with a twisted, manic grin. He saw the "Frost-Glow" and didn't see a goddess, he saw a challenge.

"Beautifully done, Elara!" he shouted, clapping his gloved hands. "A wonderful trick! But I know the source of your 'magic.' I know the grey man who stands beside you on that bridge."

My heart stopped. Caspian could see the Archivist?

"You think you’re free?" Caspian laughed, the sound chilling. "You’ve just traded one cage for another. If the Duke won't release you, then I’ll simply have to burn the cage down."

He raised a hand, and from the darkness behind him, a dozen trebuchets groaned into life. But they weren't loaded with stones. They were loaded with barrels of Sun-Fire, an alchemical liquid that burned even on ice.

"First volley!" Caspian roared.

"Shields!" Kaelen yelled, lunging forward to pull me off the bridge just as the first barrel streaked through the sky like a falling star.

The world turned into a roar of orange flame and screaming iron. The siege had truly begun.