I was considering leaving her a message, explaining that I had traveled deeper into the city in order to run reconnaissance, but she interrupted me as I was hunting for a writing utensil. “Hey.” It seemed that she, too, had forgotten the dire straits into which we had been borne. “What are you doing?”
I turned to her and my heart, made hard with the strife of losing my father and brother—so many kinsmen—softened for her. She wore dark disheveled hair like a proud crown, her eyelashes low and her body language languid with satisfaction. The smile spread across her lips was full-bodied and unabashed, and how I wished I could join her.
“I must go deeper into the city,” I explained. I knew my tone belied how much I loved her, and how happy I was to have her fight by my side as my other half. “Will you come with me? I believe there is enough costuming for both of us to pass inspection.” Granted, the ice people did not wear nearly as much as the fire dragons and humans needed in such a climate. We would be very cold as we went undercover among them.
But, as if it was second nature, Nell sprang to meet my call. “Absolutely,” she said. “Just tell me what to do.”
After outfitting ourselves in tunics and breeches, boots and scarves, we went out into the deep snow beyond our door. We left behind the majority of our possessions in order to travel more lightly through the streets, and I was unsurprised when we found the ice dragons stealing. There was no sense of pride to anything they did. They saw themselves as stars, as gods. They did whatever they wanted, and that mentality would eventually kill them all—after it robbed them of any comrade they might once have had.
But still they milled through the streets of the fire people, setting up in the homes of others, paying little mind to anything, even their surroundings. They were not a particularly shrewd people. They were only self-indulgent, and as long as they were satisfied, they ignored you.
It was a decree on the side of a shop window which stilled Nell and me on our journey through the city, during which we verified that the military presence was almost none. I couldn’t justify how open and available the city was, unless the ice dragons were truly that smug about their new territory. Even the fire dragons had not been that smug in our time, and we had reigned over The Hearthlands for centuries uninterrupted.
The decree announced a public ceremony to be held at twilight.
COME, ALL PEOPLE OF ICE! THIS IS A RITE OF FANTASTIC IMPORT! CELEBRATE AS WE SOLIDIFY THIS, OUR NEW KINGDOM, EVERWINTER!
Nell reached out and touched the corner. “What do you think this means?”
“I am sure it is Lethe’s coronation,” I replied, my face set into a scowl as I glared about at the decadence of this, their “new” kingdom, “Everwinter.” What a disgrace they had made of our proud land. “Now that they’ve driven most fire people from the country, they believe they have won.” The great sickness of my heart was that it was possible they were right. After all, if you had decimated a population, had you not bested them? Who had remained to fight? Had most not fled Everwinter?
“Well, they haven’t,” Nell reassured me. “They haven’t won.”
I nodded, but the truth was that I had hardly heard her.
I was thinking.
I would attend this “rite of fantastic import,” and if it featured a certain ice prince bowing to receive a crown and scepter, he could be assured that they would both roll across the ground, lashed in blood.
The first thing that struck me as odd was that the ceremony was to be held on the front steps of the castle. Coronations were typically formal events, and not open to the public. If they were open to the public, they would at least be heavily guarded and held within castle walls. After all, had they performed an official census of the land yet? Had they any records of the properties therein, and who held them? More examples of a frivolous, marauding people best left relegated to a meager peninsula, in spite of certain soft-hearted opinions. But this event was on the main steps of the palace, not within, and there was no military presence, either. What the hell kind of coronation was this?
No members of the royal court had even attended—and my weaponry would certainly go to waste.
Then I did recognize one member of the royal court.
My father.
King Erisard Aena was led with his head bowed onto the front steps of the castle. His face was drawn and gray, but expressionless. He was not even strong enough yet to hold himself on two legs, and both his arms remained in slings. Still, he was heavily guarded, and led to the very top of the staircase, where two guards bowed with him, forcing his head down.