Chapter Twelve
Frostmere was only a few miles away, but the travel was starting to weigh down on Elysium. She dressed to prepare herself for the winter weather. The air in the street was as sharp as a blade, but her charcoal cloak was forged from the frost itself. Her heavy velvet mantle, weighted down with a thick ruff of fox fur, silvered like moonlight on a frozen lake. Atop her dark tresses sat a slender circlet of wrought iron and obsidian, a crown that didn't shine so much as it drank the meager light.
Beside Elysium, Alastor pulled at his coat. It was a masterpiece of obsidian silk and midnight wool, structured with shoulders so sharp they seemed feathered. A stiff, high collar rose like a wall behind his jaw. Down his chest, silver filigree clasps, wrought in the shape of twisted briars, pinned back the shadows of his overcoat. Around his throat hung a heavy, gothic pendant of tarnished silver, its weight anchoring a cravat of pleated silk.
Elysium could see her breath in front of her from the frost, and she clutched her gloved fingers around Vail's reins. The villagers waved in the distance, cheering for Alastor. He didn't look back, though; he was too focused on saving the kingdoms. His eyes scanned the sugar maple trees, his hands ready to draw his sword if any sort of danger presented itself.
Frostmere was one of the few other kingdoms where animals still resided. However, the Arctic animals were far more dangerous than those in Alaria. Living in the forest, they heavily distanced themselves from the townspeople. They were territorial and would kill first and ask questions later.
Elysium first took notice of Vail's agitation when his ears twitched and his head jerked to the side. She patted his flank comfortingly and shot Alastor a worried glance. Suddenly, Alastor waved his hand behind him, signaling Elysium to stop. She halted, reaching for her bow. Vail winced, reversing backwards. Elysium tightened her clutch on the reins, trying to pull him back forward. Then, a roar bellowed from the trees, and the ground began to tremble. Alastor turned his head to Elysium, and a smile crept across his face.
"Polar bears," he mumbled, ready for a fight.
Alastor took joy in the thrill of fighting; he had been trained in combat since he could walk. Elysium nervously toyed with the fur on her cloak, pulling the hood over her head. The sound of snapping twigs grew louder and louder before they heard a huff from the trees in front of them. The polar bear emerged from the forest, a low growl sounding from his mouth. His hackles rose, and his claws dug into the snow. The horses both whinnied loudly, nearly bumping into each other. Alastor hopped off his horse, sword drawn. When the bear saw the weapon, he bared his teeth angrily, his void black eyes narrowing. Elysium nervously dismounted Vail, but kept her weapon concealed. The bear rose onto his hind legs, roaring. When the bear went back down on all fours, the ground shook from the weight. Elysium held her breath as she neared the bear. She held her hand in front of her, slowly inching closer.
"Are you an idiot?" Alastor said, raising a brow.
Elysium shushed him and kept moving forward. The bear scrunched his muzzle, bearing his teeth aggressively. Alastor stood behind Elysium, confused. Elysium was inches away from the bear, holding her hand just close enough for him to smell it. The bear pressed his wet nose to her palm, sniffing. Suddenly, he sat down on his hind legs, dipping his head down to Elysium. She let out a sigh of relief and patted the top of his head with her hand. The bear's demeanor changed entirely, and he rolled onto his back, exposing his underbelly.
Alastor blinked.
"Color me stoked," he mumbled, resting his side against a tree. Elysium crouched to the polar bear, stroking his white fur.
"You're just a big baby, aren't you?" she cooed softly.
The bear huffed in agreement. Elysium leaned down, pressing her forehead against the bear's.
"Okay," Alastor rolled his eyes in annoyance. "We're losing daylight."
Elysium shot her head around, furrowing her brows.
"Jealous?" she teased.
Alastor didn't respond; he only hopped back onto his horse and snapped the reins. The pair carefully trotted down the snowy hills, careful not to slip on the ice patches. When they finally reached the base of the Arctic Mountains, they were near the border. They dismounted their horses at the gate, where a fur cloaked man stood, a spear in hand. It only took one look at the two before the gates opened. Quinzhees were scattered across the snow inside the village, children running near the wooden stables.
They were approached by a hefty man with a long, thick dark beard. The giant of a man stood as immovable as the peaks themselves. He was wrapped in the heavy, cream colored furs of a tundra predator, a massive mantle that spilled over his shoulders and trailed into a floor length cape, thick enough to blunt a killing blow. Beneath the pelts, he wore lamellar armor of slate grey steel, each plate etched with the scrolling silver knotwork of the North. A rugged leather harness crisscrossed his barrel chest, secured by a central diamond shaped clasp of tarnished silver. His hands, encased in thickly padded leather and steel backed gauntlets, rested with practiced ease upon the hilt of a broadsword.
He traced his fingers through his nearly buzzed, dirty blonde hair. He looked down at the two, steaming with intimidation. Elysium swallowed, shrinking back behind Alastor.
"I assume you know why we're here, Boreas Aspen," Alastor said dryly.
The man nodded, and a warm smile ran across his face.
"Of course," he placed a hand on Alastor's shoulder. "We will offer you shelter, if needed."
Elysium thanked him and led them past the stables of caribou and reindeer. Lemmings and hares swerved between her feet as they walked to the small lodge in front of them. In Frostmere, they rode caribou instead of horses and ice fished each morning. Tall, snowy mountains surrounded the village, keeping it isolated and hidden from intruders. Frostmere was a peaceful village that kept to itself; they never contacted the other kingdoms. However, this situation was dire, and their entire village was at risk if Lupus gained more power. Elysium's boots trudged through the snow, and her body struggled to warm itself. She wished the hounds were there to protect them on the rest of their journey, but they couldn't cross that far out of their territory; they still had to help protect the kingdoms. Alastor was growing more tense, nervous about the time that was quickly running out. Boreas opened the oak door, and the thick scent of firewood filled the living room. Elysium tiredly sat down on the mink fur chair. She leaned back, letting her aching body rest for a moment. Alastor didn't sit; he just stood in front of the furnace, his eyes fixed on the flames.
Boreas placed his hand on the front door, the winter wind pushing through the cracked door.
"I'll be near the huts if you need anything," he said, and slipped outside into the cold.
Alastor and Elysium sat in silence for a bit, not even looking at each other. Elysium spoke first.
"I'm sorry for what happened in Abbadon," she said quietly.
With his back still facing Elysium, Alastor laughed aloud.
"It was entertaining, to say the least," he sneered. "Don't worry about it." He finally turned to her.
With a playful smile on his face, Alastor walked over to the chair facing Elysium, kicking his feet up on the ottoman in front of him.
"So," he raised his brow and placed his hands together. "Why did you want to marry Lupus?"
Stunned, Elysium choked on her breath and leaned back.
"It was what was best for the kingdoms," she replied, head high.
Alastor laughed obnoxiously and tossed his head back. When he finally got a hold of himself, he stared at her, amused.
"So, you'd sell yourself to that tyrant just to benefit your kingdom?"
Elysium angrily shook her head and rolled her eyes.
"You wouldn't understand," she muttered. "Everything you do is for yourself."
Alastor scoffed and looked her up and down.
"I warned you, Princess," his voice grew serious. "And you call that selfish?"
Elysium bit her cheek and toyed with her fingers. The room grew silent, neither of the two sure of what to say.
"I don't think we should stay the night," Alastor said, getting up quickly.
Elysium tilted her head, confused.
"Why?"
"We're losing daylight," he replied, pulling his cloak back over his head. Elysium groaned and slowly got up as well, reaching for her quiver and bow. They walked back out into the freezing snow, their faces stinging from the wind. Boreas waded through the snow over to them, the horses' reins in both of his hands. Alastor was quick to mount his horse, but Elysium grabbed Boreas's hands in hers, meeting his scarred eyes.
"Thank you for your hospitality," she bowed her head.
"Good luck on your journey," he replied.
The villagers waved to them as they left, their seal skin coats fading into the distance. Elysium realized that it may have been a mistake to leave so early; the evening air was cold beyond belief. The stars shone light on their journey, which was endless miles of snow and forests. After a few miles of contentious blizzards and blistering cold, Elysium could barely grasp the reins, but she couldn't give up now. Her mind wandered back to the memory of her kingdom, engulfed in flames. She remembered her people, now all chained and thrown into cells. It made her wince even thinking about it. They rode until the sun finally rose and they could get a grasp of where they really were. They rode to the edge of a winding ridge that overlooked the mountains and hills in front of them. Elysium's breath caught when she looked down; a magical ravine passed through between the mountains; it was the only way across.