Daggers of Ice

Chapter 14

Cair Paravel.

Arianna.

She felt as if it had been months rather than a few short weeks since she had laid eyes upon Cair Paravel; though this time its towers were frosted with a delicate layer of snow. From a distance it looked like a beautiful beacon, a sanctuary from the wilds of the forest. A citadel of peace, so far away from the raids and fires.

The citadel that she would once again infiltrate.

This time with an invitation.

With the sun setting behind it, the castle looked lit one of those beautiful oil paintings that Charn had been famous for. The sky was striped with colour, the last rays of sunlight reaching through the thick cloud cover. Even from such a distance she could hear the waves crashing upon the beach, rhythmic and calming.

Across their small campsite she looked at Faelar, who was of the same ilk as Jenari, with his white-blonde hair falling across his pale face, his beard trimmed close to his handsome jaw. Though his eyes were darker, more midnight than sapphire.

The northman who sat upon her council.

He had stopped an arrow for her once; he had the scar just above his heart to show the world his bravery.

Or his foolery.

In the crackling, dancing light of their campfire, he looked almost demonic. But in that moment, he was looking at her with something akin to concern, though nothing showed upon her face.

There was an uneasiness deep within her; something that had nothing to do with the appearance of Aslan. Never before had she wished for the gift of foresight – she would have to consult with Moonshade when they returned.

"I miss her too, she was a playful thing," Faelar said softly. "Her death was not your fault. She wanted to go."

He had been a part of that party, who had been visiting the village to ensure their dams would not break.

When the village had been raided.

There had been similar attacks along the Western Wilds, villages burnt to the ground. But Myria had insisted she go.

Arianna looked into the crackling flames, seeing not Aslan's powerful form as others were wont to do. Instead she saw Myria's laughing eyes. Intelligent orbs the colour of a holly leaf when the first rays of sunlight fell upon it in the morning, surrounded by shimmering green sparkles. Her unruly russet hair, with holly berries strewn throughout, flying in the wind as she laughed, her sword swinging around her.

The dryad who had been her best friend, perhaps her only friend. Who had left the castle, who Arianna had given permission to leave. And had been killed; set alight. Other than cutting down her tree, it was the only way to truly kill a dryad. Arianna had never been fond of fire.

A cowards weapon.

Her best friend who she had grown up with; her tree had been planted a few years before her own birth. She had not been lying to Edmund when she'd said that Myria had felt when she had not. Jadis had punished her if she showed even the slightest of emotions; so, it had been Myria who laughed for her. Of course, Jenari would have fallen for the lively dryad, who seemed so out of place in the frozen wastelands of the north.

"You should not mourn your friend-sister," Myriel said softly, her face in shadow. The dryad had been like a daughter to her, for she had planted the tree herself; never before had Arianna seen such distress as when she'd informed Myriel of her death. Of course the dryad queen had known something was wrong, but she had not thought that her youngest sapling would be dead. "She would not want you to."