Sisters Three (Completed)

37. Brenna

On one side of the table Generals Rydon and Cooke looked less than pleased, and on the other Robbin and Brenna were pinned by their gaze. Brenna struggled not to squirm, drawing strength from the silver diadem on her forehead, but it required focusing her own gaze on Robbin to try and ignore the displeasure sent her way from across the table. Robbin, for his part, leant on the table with his elbows, rubbing his eyes with one hand and sighing deeply.

General Cooke pursed his lips. "The rebels have only grown more problematic since your banishment of Morna and her unborn child."

Robbin didn't move, his eyes still covered. "I'm aware."

"Well, they're bringing in black powder from Cameria somehow," General Rydon said. "And, as I'm sure you're also aware of, we are running dangerously low on the same material because of the Silent Sea pirates still blockading the White Bay."

"How are the rebels getting past them? Are we now dealing with a rabble as well as the pirates?" Brenna asked.

General Cooke shook his head. "The pirates are working on their own. Once Revours let them in, they are reluctant to give back the territory. No, the rebels have somehow been getting around them to sail up the coast to the ice plateaus to trade with the Ice Isles."

"Ice Isles?" Brenna asked.

Robbin lowered his hand. "The continent ends with the North, an almost impenetrable mountain range that terminates into the ice plateaus. If you are lucky enough to get that far, then you travel across the ice until you reach Ice Isles where Anjeluund tribes set up to make their own country centuries ago."

"They've been out there so long that they are more than knowledgeable about every crook and cranny of the White Bay. They'd have no problem outsmarting the Silent Sea pirates," General Cooke said.

"Can't we convince them to work for us instead of the rebels, then?" Brenna asked. "We have the funds now, and we can even offer them new trading routes with countries. The rebels surely aren't giving them very much for their black powder."

"Yes, well, unfortunately we can't sail there due to the pirates," Robbin said.

"Cut through the land, then."

Robbin laughed sharply. "Don't you think I haven't been trying that since we started the war with Revours? I've been sending scouting parties to inspect the conditions of the mountains, but they always come back seriously depleted or even sometimes not at all."

"So the conditions are bad. Couldn't we just hire a local to guide us through?"

"Yes, we could do that if the locals weren't completely terrified of some witch they think lives in the mountains," Robbin replied. "The soldiers apparently believe it as well, saying that freak snowstorms and avalanches have been wiping out their ranks any time they try to pass the border into the North."

Brenna felt a quelling in her stomach, a tone like a bell peeling through her that drew her toward something... something she remembered from her childhood. Frost on sheets and rumors that Mama found terrifying...

"There was a tribe of magical folk who lived in the North, was there not?" she asked, her voice strained.

General Rydon nodded. "It was never confirmed that they carried magic, but a fierce band of savages did indeed live in the mountains. Their leader was said to have fallen in love with a man from the middle lands, and they married. I think she died in childbirth, but there is no real reliable information about her."

Brenna squeezed her eyes shut, her hands shaking in her lap. "And this leader of the tribe—were there any rumors that she could control the cold? Make ice appear, or... or frost?"

"Yes, many. That's why the locals are so convinced that the snowstorms are coming from some entity on the mountain guarding her realm."

General Cooke stroked his beard. "Do you think we could somehow hire a priest to bless us so that the locals will be more inclined to help?"

Robbin shook his head. "They're too terrified to even put a toe over the border. I'm not sure I'd be able to get my soldiers across, either. They've heard the stories from those who survived the scouting parties."

"Blasted superstitious country folk, afraid of nothing but the natural weather of a mountainous area," General Rydon grumbled.

Taking a deep breath, Brenna straightened her spine and opened her eyes. "It's not a natural occurrence," she said. "It's my sister."

Robbin's eyes flickered briefly to the two generals before he turned to face with Brenna with a hesitant laugh. "Morna?"

"No, my other sister. Half-sister. We... well, we lost her when we went to live with our aunts. She was left behind at our old nurse's home, but she disappeared soon after."

"What makes you think your half-sister is the one who the locals think controls the snow?" General Cooke asked.

"When we were younger she used to taunt my mother with the Northern language of her own mother. There were also incidents that involved frost and sometimes ice that Morna and I were not supposed to know about, but which we sometimes found by accident." Brenna looked down at her folded hands. "She always wanted to go back to where her mother came from, to look for somewhere where she might belong. I think there is a high probability that your witch is my sister."

"Your family seems to teem with strange and awful powers, your highness. Is there anything else you'd like to tell us?" General Rydon said, his tone measured. Brenna frowned at his implications.

"If I had powers, believe me I would have used them by now," she snapped.

"Brenna," Robbin said, cutting into the conversation before it went any further. "If the trouble in the North is being caused by your sister, do you think she might be reasoned with to let our troops through to reach the ice plateaus?"

Brenna shrugged slowly. Thinking back on their childhood, Brenna found with a start that she wasn't even able to fully call to mind Adair's face, let alone the way she'd react to requests. A vague memory of always being afraid of their older sister surfaced, and that she'd made up for it by being as annoying and mouthy as she could to make sure Adair never knew. It didn't bode well for Adair listening to them now, but perhaps she might be more forgiving if she knew that her sister was a Queen now, and able to grant allowances that weren't possible before. Maybe even an offer to come back down from the mountains and live in Anjeluund might be enough to foster peace.

"You can always try. She wasn't easy to get along with as children, but it's been many years now. She doesn't have family beyond Morna and myself. Perhaps that will be enough."

Robbin nodded, the fire returning to his eyes as plans and strategies once again whizzed through his mind. "I'll gather a small force and personally travel to the North to see if I can't talk to my wife's sister." He said this to the generals. "See if you can't raise a sum to offer her, as well as the sum we'll need to buy from the Ice Isles."

There was only a few more minutes of planning before the two generals rose and left the room, their footsteps confident as they charged forward to their duties. Robbin immediately poured over the maps that were anchored to the table, trailing his finger along the border of the Northern mountains, his lips pursed and his eyes intent. Brenna sidled up behind him, looking down on the line of sharp peeks that represented the place that her sister might be staying. It had been so long, so very long. That side of her life that she'd wished to forget was now suddenly before her again, and Brenna felt frightened.

Laying a hand on Robbin's warm arm, she tried to use his strength to bolster her own. He didn't seem to notice her, too busy muttering about how many soldiers he needed and how long the trip would take.

Brenna leaned in closer. "Robbin."

Without looking up, he grunted.

"Her name is Adair," she said. "And... please be careful."