House of Winter

Chapter 5, Part 1

SANNA

The heat didn't suit Sigrún. The grey wolf paced in the courtyard, pink tongue lolling from her mouth, mottled wings lying heavily on her back, before she finally flopped to lie down in the shade.

Sanna was sitting on the low dividing wall, leaning against a column, and trying to read a novel, but she was conscious of a trickle of sweat on her upper lip. She, like her wolf, was not used to the thick heat that seemed to blanket the Volcano Palace, ever present and inescapable.

Sanna was no stranger to uncomfortable situations. Her earliest memories were of being cold. She remembered numb fingers and lips tinted blue, and an itchy blanket that didn't cover her toes. And she remembered the ghost of a woman who made fire like magic. But her father had told her this woman wasn't real.

She remembered travelling from the frosty mountains of the Dorthmost points of Norrlund to the smoky cities of the Sud. She remembered long train rides clutching battered paperback books, while her father poured over documents and finances. He was always working.

She remembered when she first saw the Norrlish Queen. She was a tall, formidable woman with a long nose and icy blue eyes. Behind her had been a tiny princess, clinging to her mother's skirts.

Sanna had gone from not knowing where they would sleep at night - whether it was a tiny cot in an inn overrun with drunks, or a seat on a train, or under an alcove on dark a street - to sleeping every night in a bed made of silk and down, in a palace in Vulfholm.

For the first time in her life, Sanna had servants who fulfilled her every request for butter wreath cookies and fresh strawberries and hot lemon tea. Her father was still working, spending all of his time reading documents and balancing sums, and slowly, as Sanna grew used to palace life, the memories of the woman who made fire disappeared from Sanna's mind.

Now, in the Volcano Palace of Singtsu, there were also servants, but they had no butter wreath cookies or fresh strawberries. Instead they offered spiced broths and vegetables and thick noodles that oozed with oil, or pastries that were too dense and not sweet enough for Sanna's liking. But she had accepted everything graciously, without comment, as she always had.

She was a princess, in every aspect of being, if not in title.

And it wouldn't be long until that changed, too.

"There you are."

Sanna looked up to see Taikku Tsukasai, her betrothed, leading his tiger through the archway and into the courtyard. Tai looked so much more comfortable now that he was back in the Volcano Palace. His jet black hair was slicked neatly away from his face, and he wore a pure black suit that was almost as sharp as his jawline.

"Usually in Singtsu we sleep in the middle of the day, to avoid the suns," Tai said.

Sanna had realised this custom, but she hadn't been able to force herself to comply with it yet. It felt unnatural to her to sleep when the suns shone so brightly outside. And she didn't like the feeling of waking groggy in the afternoon.

"I'm not tired," Sanna said coolly.

"Evidently."

This was a usual exchange between Sanna and Tai. They were polite, always, but both were cold and distant. It was hard for her to imagine marrying him. Hard to imagine that she would spend her life with him, by his side. She would be his wife and partner in all things. Maybe one day they would even love each other. But now, mostly, she despised him.

But he was her only chance of being queen.

When Sanna had first seen the Norrlish Queen, Lisbet Koningssen, she had finally understood the meaning of power. With power came everything that Sanna had ever wanted in the world - a warm place to sleep and whatever food and books she wanted, safety and security, and the knowledge that no one could ever take it away. A Queen would never sleep on a train or a dirty cobblestone street. A Queen would never go hungry, or feel her fingers go numb with cold.

Tai's tiger, Yainni, moved to sit across from Sigrun. Sigrun flicked her ears back, looking distrustingly at her counterpart.

"I've got reports today that Vastiens in New Hamilton are being rounded up and deported," Tai said. "The Garde have already arrested everyone in the House of Water at the school. No news of Savvas or that little Vastien winter starrling, but it won't be long."

Sanna remained silent. She was glad that Tai didn't refer to Ariane by name. She wasn't sure if she would cope with hearing her name on Tai's lips.

Tai was comfortable - now that he was back in the Volcano Palace - to brag about the success of his mission in New Hamilton. It was he who had instigated two attacks on the city - one that had been blamed on Vastiens, and one that had resulted in the deaths of hundreds of Vastien protestors. It had been enough for Vastiens to attack the Midwinter Championships, and in the resulting chaos, the King of Lombardia had announced war on Vastier, after his son and only heir had died.

But Sanna knew that Prince Raphael of Lombardia had not died at the hands of a Vastien.

It may have been a dragon that had struck the fatal blow against the prince, but his death was the result of none other than the Prince of Fire, who stood before her so smugly, leaning against a column with the unbridled confidence of someone who knew he had won.

She'd noticed he had tried to boast of his winnings to others in the royal court, but his grandmother refused to see him, and his aunt would only smile stiffly and then turn away. She'd watched as this had agitated Tai, and he'd turned on his sister, grinning gleefully at her and mocking her for Raphael's death.

"And I've heard the Vastiens are forming a fleet of ships at Zantiala," Tai said. "They'll be planning an attack on New Hamilton."

"I can see you're very excited," Sanna said drily.

Tai grinned, and stepped away from the column to pace in front of Sanna. She deliberately stared at her book, but it seemed he wasn't to be dissuaded.

"The Lombardians and the Vastiens are both too barbaric to negotiate for peace. Their trade agreements will break down and they'll lose thousands of starrlings in foolish battles over the ocean, and all we'll need to do is sit back and watch as our two greatest enemies fall."

"Are you sad to miss the battles?" Sanna asked with wide eyes.

Tai stared at her, sensing a trap in her question, but then he said, "No, of course not. As I said, they're barbaric. They'll fight like beggars over a coin."

"I've always thought battle must be quiet heroic and valiant," Sanna said lightly, and she put her book down on her lap. "I suppose I've always read a lot of stories of dashing princes who ride bravely into battle. But I guess that's not you. You'd prefer to let others fight for you while you hide."

Tai opened his mouth and then closed it again. "I'm not hiding," he snapped. "This is a strategic play."

"Perhaps," Sanna said. "Although it struck me as cowardly."

Tai hissed. "You should spend more time with your mother. She would teach you a thing or two about battle strategy. You know nothing except the stupid stories in your little book."

As he said it, he reached over and snatched the paperback from Sanna's hand. Before she could protest or even react, he held the paperback above his head and set it on fire. The book was engulfed in flames, and Tai dropped it at his feet.

Sanna stared down at the flaming book, and then back up at Tai, and she felt a tiny tremor of fear, looking into his eyes. As much as she pretended to deny it, he had all the power here in the Volcano Palace. Her own mother might not be enough to protect her.

thanks for reading, you star xx