The Ice Queen of Valdis – Part 2: Thaw

She sentenced him at midnight, on the throne she had made from a leather armchair and a heap of furs. The great hall was dark except for the fire, and her voice rang low and level under the antlers. "Sir Callum of the Rescue, you are found guilty of resisting the Crown. The sentence of this court is a night of obedience, within the Pact. You will speak when addressed. You will move when commanded. You will be corrected."

"I accept, Majesty."

"You do not accept." A slow smile. "You are sentenced. Come."

The Queen's discipline was ceremonial and strict. She made him kneel on the stone. She walked behind him, her robe whispering. She had him recite the laws of the court and corrected him with a fingertip under the chin, a cool, steady hand at the back of his neck. She made him wait, silent, in front of the flames, while she read slowly from a book, until the heat on his face and the silence in his head were the same thing. All of it was exact and deliberate. None of it was cruel.

"Does the knight wish to continue?" she asked, at each half hour.

"Yes, Majesty."

At two the fire burned low.

"Thaw," said Freya.

The circlet came off. The robe slid to the rug. She sat beside him on the hearth, in her jumper, with the fire on her face, and pulled a blanket round them both.

"How was that?"

"I think," said Callum, "I haven't made one decision in six hours. I could cry."

"You may." She drew his head to her shoulder. "You carried so much, all winter. You were beautiful tonight."

"Is the Queen proud?"

"Freya is very proud. The Queen is already planning the spring campaign."

He laughed, and his eyes were wet, and the snow fell silently outside.

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