The leather reigns were probably making permanent marks on the palms of my hands, I was clutching them so tightly. We rode on for another five minutes until the forest began thinning ahead of us. Gradually the trail expanded, turning into a flat plain just before the mountains narrowed into the pass. This was it. This was where the battle would be fought. It was fitting, since it was an ugly stretch of land. Not the mountains around it, they were beautiful, but the plain itself was brown with winter, yellowed grass had withered in the cold, and piles of rocks and melting snow hemmed the sides, the leftovers from landslides perhaps.

King Surtr had reigned in his horse at the far end of the field, just before the pass. Obviously we had a better chance if the frost army could only come through a bit at a time. The army was slowly building behind him, the horses milling about, stretching out in a growing line as their riders directed them into place, the jingle of tack and the rumble of voices filling the air. The king gestured at me, indicating that I should take Sigurd to the right. I gave him a nod, guiding the horse a little ways down the field from him. The rebels were starting to collect behind me, sorting themselves out slowly, until I had a solid line of riders just behind me. The feeling of being exposed hit me suddenly, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the mountains, looking for any sign of movement from the pass.  Being in front was terrifying. I was supposed to lead these people into battle. The handle of my katana felt warm in my grip, and I took a deep, calming breath.

I skimmed the line of fire jotun, trying to spot Loki. Erik was suddenly at my elbow, his horse fidgeting impatiently. All the horses seemed restless and excited.

“Ready?” Erik’s voice was low.

“I think,” my voice was unsteady, “ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Remember. Find the Queen.”

I glanced over my shoulder, spotting Charlotte and the others directly behind me. A mixture of relief and horror made me feel weak. Charlotte didn’t belong in battle, she was too small, but in the same moment I felt comfort at seeing her familiar face. She looked so tiny on top of her huge horse, dressed in chainmail and a leather turnic that was the tiniest bit too big for her. The other girls sat much taller on their horses. Becca, Stacey and Margaret were ready for battle. They suited the chainmail, they looked excited and ready to go. Why didn’t I feel the same way? I backed Surtr up a bit and hissed at Charlotte,

"You should stay behind, fall back when we charge."

She looked at me indignantly, "i'll be fine."

"You haven't got any training with that," I protested, pointing the sword she had at her hip, "how are you supposed to..."

Charlotte inturupted me, eyes narrow, "I know you were destracted, but I've been pretty busy for the last few weeks too. Training with the fire jotun, and then with Davin."

"Oh," I faltered, not sure what to say. Why hadn't I noticed that Charlotte was getting battle training too? Had I been so wrapped up in myself that I hadn't noticed what my friend was doing?

"Don't worry, "Charlotte pursed her lips, looking away from me, "everyone else underestimates me too."

I just stared at her, not sure what to say. I didn't want her to go into battle, I was afraid she'd get hurt. Training or not, she was still much smaller then the rest of us. But obviously nothing I could say would make her turn back now. I finally turned back to the front without saying anything else.

“What now?” I said to Erik.

He shrugged, the motion looked like it took some effort in the heavy chainmail, “Now we wait.”

I turned my gaze back on the pass in front of us, watching for movement. It felt like someone had reached into my gut, grabbed a handful of my insides and twisted.

Now we wait. Are you kidding me? I was just as restless as Sigurd now, shifting in the saddle, hands alternately grasping the fabric of my tunic and the hilt of my sword. I couldn’t sit still.

Minutes seemed to stretch into hours as we waited. I watched the breath of the fire giants rise in columns above their heads. I watched Sigurd’s breath, curling up in twin spires of mist like a dragon. Light snow began falling, so I watched each flake spiral down in front of me, drifting like a tiny piece of lace, melting on Sigurd’s neck and shoulders, slowly covering my arms in flecks of white. When the snow landed on me it didn’t melt, and that kept me busy for a few minutes, wondering if it would always be this way now. Wondering if I would always get out of the bath and be covered with ice droplets, or stand in the snow and slowly be painted white, like I was dressed in a cloak of it. I was studying my arm carefully when the faint trumpet of a horn sounded, snapping my head up, stiffening my back. The pass was still, no movement but the gentle drift of snowflakes. When I looked down the line of jotun they were all shifting in their saddles, swords brandished. Sitting at attention. They’d heard it too. Erik’s voice was low and tense behind me,

“They’re coming.”

It was hard to draw breath. Still no movement in the pass. Why couldn’t I see them if they were coming? The sound of the horn again, loud and tribal, closer this time. The noise sent an unpleasant shiver through me, and my fingers tightened over the hilt of my sword.

King Surtr yelled, and a horse pulled out of the line slightly, the rider placing a long, curved horn to his lips, blowing into it and producing a deafening, blood curling sound. Now they knew we were ready for them.

It seemed like an eternity that we spent sitting in the falling snow, all of us dead silent now, squinting into the pass, trying to catch a glimpse of movement, the glimmer of metal from a sword. Straining to hear the jingle of horses’ tack. Where were they?

There, a flash of movement. My heart kicked into overtime. Now I could make out shapes through the falling snow, tall jotun on horseback. The frost army.

Slowly they moved forward, a trickle getting through the pass at a time. We watched in silence as the space began to fill up. Silent, grim looking soldiers in silver armor. The only noise was the huff and snort of their horses, and the faint jingle of tack that barely reached us across the field. They were so different than the fire jotun. They were meticulous and organized, falling into line as soon as they emerged, marching forward in neat rows, their backs ram rod straight, reigns tight in their hands.

It didn’t take long to spot her.

Just the sight of the frost queen sent a cool prickle over my skin. She sat up straight and stiff on her white horse. She was cloaked in white furs and silver chainmail. She wore no helmet, only an elaborate headdress, white and silver to match. It curved up and back, spreading out into sharp points, almost like the antlers of a deer. Her eyes had been heavily outlined in coal, and silver painted her brows, giving her a savage, almost ethereal look. She looked completely at ease, riding just in front of her soldiers, turning to survey them, ordering them with cool, calculating gestures.

We were too far away to hear what she said when her red lips moved. Frustration filled me. I wished I had access to some form of magic so I knew what she was telling them.  Someone moved behind me, and I jumped a little when a horse moved forward. It was Kiera, her back just as straight as the Queen’s, looking just as regal.

“She orders them to group together so they can get as many through the pass as possible.”

I stared at her with wide eyes. Did she have the power to overhear at long distances? Kiera smiled, “I can read lips.”

I nodded, feeling a little silly. Perhaps the rumors of her being a witch were simple exaggeration.  Kiera fell back into line, and I turned my attention forward again. The opposing army had arranged themselves into a tidy line. More pressed forward from behind, but they couldn’t get their entire army through. There were still – I would estimate – almost twice as many facing us right now, but the rest of the army was stuck behind the pass. We had the advantage here, as long as we didn’t allow them to press forward. As long as we kept on the offensive. We’d only had time to discuss that briefly, but Angela had emphasized the need to take advantage of the pass. To press forward in attack mode, rather than be defensive. We had to be aggressive and strike while we had the advantage.

The Queen turned, her gaze sweeping over our army. When her eyes came to rest on me I felt frozen to the spot. My entire body was ridged. She sat up taller in her saddle. It was impossible to make out her eyes properly, she was too far away, but I knew those eyes. I knew how intense they were, I knew what having the full force of her gaze on you did to a person. I ground my teeth together and vowed I wouldn’t look away until she did. To my left there was a stirring of movement, and Surtr’s voice called out, “come on, lass. Let’s ride out to meet her.”

Meet her. That meant I’d have to face her, talk to her. I took a deep breath and guided Sigurd forward, falling in beside Surtr. His deep rumbling voice covered the sound of the horses’ hooves on the grass as we rode.

“Don’t let her intimidate you. It’s her favorite tactic.”

“I know,” I said grimly.

He gave me a sympathetic glance, “I’m sure you do, lass. I’ve been dealing with her for centuries now. She’s not a pleasant person to pit yourself against. But you did it, you stood up to her and did what you thought was right by rescuing my son. That’s why I’m counting on you to succeed. That’s why, when this is all over, I know you’ll be a good Queen.”

I kept my gaze on Sigurd’s neck, trying to shove down the panic that was choking me. There were too many things to think about at once. Even after this awful war was over, if I came out alive I’d have to worry about them trying to make me into a Queen.

The opposing army had spotted us. This time they did move slightly, shifting in their saddles at the sight of the fire king. Some of them pulled their swords, and the archers at the back  had their arrows trained on him.

“They won’t shoot us?” I said nervously.

“Unspoken rule of battle,” Sutr grunted, “you have a civil little talk first, that usually amounts to nothing. You do it in the middle of the field, and no one gets hurt. Then you go back and gear up to slaughter one another.”

“That’s weird,” I muttered.

Surtr glanced sideways at me, his expression surprised. Then he tilted his head back and roared with laughter, “That’s why I like you, lass!”

I couldn’t help but smile. But that faded quickly when I looked up and saw Eira moving toward us. My stomach curled in protest. I didn’t want to see her again. I didn’t want to talk to her, or hear her cold tones and see her accusing expression.

We closed the gap slowly, the anticipation and fear making me jittery. Ten feet away, and I could make out those brilliant blue eyes. Seven feet and her blank, cold expression became clear. Five feet and we were in speaking distance of one another. We reigned in our horses no less than three feet away from one another, Surtr and I staying very close. 

Queen Eira’s eyes roamed up and down me, and the full force of her gaze was like frostbite. She wasn’t happy with what she was seeing, “So you have come to challenge me, Amora.” She didn’t even glance at Surtr, “you intend to be Queen.”

Her cold arrogance stirred something within in me, a spark of fire that gave me the strength to speak. Anger made my voice steady, “Someone else needs to take your place, before you bring an entire kingdom down with your foolishness.”

Her eyes widened, only the faintest hint of surprise, “Oh, Amora. That you would betray me this way…”

“I’m not Amora,” my voice rose sharply, “my name is Megan. I stand here before you as Megan, and I’ll ride into battle as Megan. And you’re the one who betrayed Amora. She never forgave you, you know. Never.”

There was a flash of emotion on the Queen’s marble face, grief and anger. It had been a hit below the belt, but it was still satisfying to see that something could shake her cold exterior.

She turned from me, as if the conversation was over, reciting in a cold, emotionless voice, “here are the terms. Surrender and we will spare you. You will come back to the palace and serve us…”

Surtr’s low rumble of laughter interrupted her, “listen to me, you frostie bitch, there’ll be no serving, no surrender. None of that. You might as well run back to your army and tell them your precious terms and conditions are hogwash.”

Eira looked down her nose at him, “Very well, Surtr. You may find you sing a different tune very shortly. But have it your way,” she wheeled her horse away without even looking at me again.

“Come on, lass.” Surtr turned his horse rapidly, urging the animal into a trot, yelling over the noise to be heard, “now it’s sort of a race to get back to your army and attack first.”

I put pressure on Sigurd’s sides, but he was already catching up to the king’s horse, matching his speed, “we attack now?” My voice was strained from yelling, and from the fear that churned in my gut.

“Now is the time! And remember, make straight for the wretched Queen! The sooner you can end this, the better!”

“Right.”

Head straight for the Queen. That meant fighting her. I moved lower in the saddle as we galloped across the field, snowflakes shooting past in a flurry of white. Sigurd’s mane whipped up and tickled my throat and cheeks, and I tried to concentrate on the movement of the horse beneath me, and not think about the brilliant blue glare of the frost Queen’s eyes.