“Let me out!” Liv screamed, spinning around in the darkness and the mist.

The God-Eating Queen crumbled away, leaving Liv alone with only the frozen statues of her lovers, and then, one by one, those shattered, as well. Cade’s form crumbled first, splitting with an audible crack and then falling to the ground in a mixture of larger chunks and frozen dust. Rose fell apart next, and then Keri, leaving Liv to look down at the pieces of the people she’d lost.

Then, the mist boiled forward, stealing over the detritus, and Liv found herself utterly alone, in an endless expanse of emptiness. For a long moment, there was nothing: no light, no sound, no life. It was everything that Celris claimed to have wanted.

“I know it is not a pleasant thing to experience,” Elder Raija said, stepping out of the darkness. Her voice was not unkind. “It is, in some ways, a cruel spell. But it creates nothing which was not already present, Livara - it only brings to the surface those fears which you might otherwise deny.”

“Fuck you,” Liv spat at her, and with nothing more than a thought, six blades of ice manifested, hanging above her shoulders, three to each side. The tip of each one was pointed at Raija’s heart. She felt something cold on her cheeks, and realized that her tears were freezing.

“For what it is worth, I am sorry, child,” the old woman said. “But we had to know who you were. Not who you pretended to be, but the truth of your heart. And that is not something you would have simply told us.”

“What am I, then?” Liv half-shouted at her. Her throat felt raw from screaming, and she clenched her fists tight enough to hurt, rather than send the swords forward.

“You fear that you will never be loved, not truly,” Raija said. “Perhaps it comes from growing up without a father. But can you honestly tell me, Livara, that you have ever entirely committed to loving another person? Your human boy and your human girl - they pursued you, did they not? And you allowed them to?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Liv told her.

“It is my concern that the woman who would be our queen sees herself with clear eyes,” Raija countered. “Did you ever truly allow yourself to fall in love with either of them?”

Liv looked away.

“And then, of course, there is the second fear. Perhaps the greater one, for our purposes,” Raija said. “That you will be another Celris. A cruel and cold goddess, with no place in your heart for mercy, or kindness. A tyrant. A woman whose only driving purpose is to have more and more power, until nothing and no one will ever be able to stand against you. A bastard, sickly girl who will never permit herself to be hurt by anyone, ever again. Who will be strong enough to fight everyone.”

“That’s not what I want,” Liv argued.

“Good.” Raija nodded. “But I wonder whether Celris wanted to be what he became, or Iravata, or Ractia. How many thousands of years did it take to twist them into monsters, I wonder? And how long will you live? How long will you rule?”

“You’re saying I’ll turn out just like them? Regardless of what I want?” Liv asked.

Raija shrugged. “I cannot see the future; I am not of your grandmother’s house. All I can do is show you your own fears of what might be. What you take away from tonight is up to you, Livara.”

“So that’s it?” Liv looked up, searching behind the veil for the other woman’s eyes, without finding them. “You take me out here, and strip me naked, and throw my own worst nightmares at me, and - what, I just walk away? Forgive you?”

“You came here to win the support of House Kaulris,” Raija said. “Some of us worried that you harbored the ambition to enslave our people once again, as Celris and the others did. We see, instead, that it is one of your greatest fears. You have my support, Livara.”

A second, shrouded figure stepped out of the darkness and the mist, and spoke in a man’s voice. “You have my support, Lady of Winter.”

A third figure emerged. “You may have my voice in the council,” another woman said. “On one condition.”

Liv turned, slowly, to regard the third Kaulris elder. “What?” she asked.

“Help us.” Gloved hands reached up, pulled back a dark hood, and unwound a veil. In the dim light of moon, ring, and guttering torches, Liv saw a face not sculpted for beauty by the old gods, but deformed. The upper lip was split open, extending up to the nose; the forehead and one side of the face bulged, obscenely, and from the scalp that protruded in great, swelling lumps, only thin wisps of hair emerged. The entire weight of it twisted the face, pulling all of one side down and unbalancing the entire effect.

Liv couldn’t help but gasp.

“We were shaped to inspire fear,” the elder, who had not given her name, explained. “Even before a single spell was cast. We were twisted by a mad god, at a whim and pleasure which had lingered ever since. You, who are so beautiful, fear that you will never be loved? Then perhaps you will have some sympathy for us, Livara. Who, in all the world, would ever desire to lay with me, and give me a child? How many of us do you think there are?”

“I don’t - I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Liv admitted.

“Start with what few children we have,” Raija said. “Give them a way to show themselves to the world without wrapping their faces or hiding behind masks. If you can find a way to do that, you will have our loyalty forever.”

“My words -” Liv gestured helplessly with one hand. “Cold. Lightning. Mana. Time. Dreams. I can’t do anything about your bodies.”

“Says the woman who walks with a wyrm of the first clutch, a general thought dead twelve hundred years, great bats and elden warriors, the woman who will be the youngest archmage your guild has ever known,” the nameless woman said, wrapping her veil back around her face. “Tell us only that you will try.”

Liv swallowed. “I can do that.”

“Then you have our three voices,” Raija declared. “All of us.”

The mist was scoured away, as if by a great wind, and the guttering torches flared to life, casting their glow across what was now once again a simple campsite. The wind stirred the coals of the cookfire, and a half-burnt branch caught once again, flickering with new, orange tongues of fire. And though it was rare Liv truly felt cold anymore, she couldn’t help but shiver there in the darkness, wrapping her arms around her bare skin.

“Liv!”

She turned, and saw a group of people - more than she’d come with - break from the edge of the campsite and run toward her. Kaija was there, of course, and her guards, but Elder Aira as well, and Wren and Ghveris, and Keri.

For just a moment, Liv expected his face to crack, split open, and fall apart in chunks of ice.

With a sob that she couldn’t suppress, she stumbled forward to meet her friends, not even considering the fact that she was still naked. “You’re alive,” she heard herself cry. With a succession of thumps, her frozen swords fell, point down, to bury themselves in the forest floor. Liv reached up and caught Keri’s face up in her hands, because she had to be certain that he was real, and that what she’d seen hadn’t actually happened. It was one thing to know it, but another to feel it.

Someone had slung a cloak of stout wool around her shoulders, and they were all crowding around her.

“What did they do to you?” Ghveris roared, and with a click his enchanted blade swung out, extending from his arm, ancient sigils sparking with power.

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“I told you, no weapons!” Elder Aira exclaimed, taking hold of the Antrian’s gauntleted hand.

Keri placed his hands over Liv’s, and they felt so warm on her cold skin. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“You’re real,” Liv murmured, looking up into his eyes. “You aren’t dead. You aren’t a statue.” But can you honestly tell me, Livara, that you have ever entirely committed to loving another person? The elder’s words echoed in her mind, and she remembered Freeport, when she’d been about to die, and a shining spear had fallen among her attackers. The ride to Kelthelis, when her grandfather was dying, and Keri had come for her. A long night in Al’Fenthia, his skin burning under her fingers, while she sat for hour after hour to keep his temperature down. A morning on the slopes of Mountain Home, and the laughing face of his son.

Hair tangled by the wind, cheeks crusted with frozen tears, bare toes digging into the cold earth of the forest floor, Liv pulled Keri’s face down, closed her eyes, and kissed him.

She was dimly aware that, around them, the voices stopped.

Keri tasted faintly of the wine they’d drunk with dinner, the rabbit stew that had been cooked in a great pot over the fire. When his arms slipped around her waist, he was warm, and solid, and present. It was the feel of him that finally loosened the last, unreasoning fear from her: that he would freeze at any moment, and she would be left clutching a statue.

Finally, their lips parted, and Liv opened her eyes. “I never chose anyone before,” Liv murmured. Perhaps she sounded mad to all of her friends, who hadn’t seen what she’d seen in the darkness and the mist. But it was important to her to say it out loud.

“Let’s get you back to your tent,” Keri said. He pulled the cloak tight around her, as Wren had wrapped her in a furred cloak once, so many years before, and then her friends gathered around Liv to help her away.

☙

When Liv woke the next morning, wrapped in furs and blankets, she found Thora waiting for her. A fresh gown had been laid out, and her belt, sheath, and stormwand were waiting on a folding table next to her cot. The crown of Celris was there, as well, and her guild ring, while her enchanted boots, brushed clean of dirt or mud, waited on the carpets which served as a tent floor.

Thora immediately leapt to her feet and hurried over to the cot. “You’re awake,” she exclaimed, with a relieved smile. “I was a bit worried about you when they brought you back last evening. You looked like you’d had a hard time of it. And you felt cold as ice.”

“I’m better now,” Liv told her, and was surprised to find that it was true. She extracted herself from the soft furs in which she’d been wrapped, and swung her legs around to sit on the cot. She wasn’t wearing even a shift: they must have just put her to bed, without trying to dress her.

That thought brought back the memory of kissing Keri, and the fact - it hadn’t seemed important at the time - that she’d been naked when she’d done so. Now, the memory brought a rush of heat to her cheeks. No, Liv decided. I won’t be ashamed. I did what I did, and I don’t regret it. And I won’t ignore it anymore, or run away from it.

By the time she’d been dressed - and Thora had combed all of the twigs, leaves, and tangles out of her hair - Liv could smell the scent of frying bacon wafting into the tent from the cook fire. It made her stomach rumble, and as soon as she was decent, and had boots on her feet, she thrust the canvas flap aside, stepped out of her pavilion, and headed over to where the morning meal was in progress.

Kazimir Grenfell and Baron Crosbie immediately rose from their seats, though Liv’s friends and family remained, on their logs or folding camp chairs. She saw that it was already mid-morning, and that Elder Aira was present, along with Liv’s grandmother. Rei was sitting next to a dark-haired little girl that Liv didn’t recognize, the two children giggling away, while a man with the look of a hunter, and a woman with the same streak of purple dyed into her hair that Wren had used to wear, sat nearby. The two broke off their conversation with Wren and Ghveris, when they noted Liv’s arrival.

It was Keri, however, who not only stood up, but walked over to Liv, gently placed a hand on her arm, and led her to her camp chair. “We saved plenty for you,” he said, while everyone watched them. “I walked over to my family’s camp early and brought back a loaf of bread baked from barley grown in the Garden of Thorns, and a few jars of fruit preserves rich with mana.”

“Thank you,” Liv said, and settled into her folding chair. There was a part of her that had always enjoyed being taken care of by someone - but she also had things that needed doing, now that she was awake.

“The Red Shield Tribe, I presume?” Liv asked, in Lucanian, turning her gaze to the man and woman sitting with Wren and Ghveris.

“This is my cousin, Calm Waters,” Wren said, indicating the woman with the streak of purple in her hair. “Her husband, Soaring Eagle, who is chief of the tribe. And their daughter, Blossom.” She nodded to the little girl who was now drawing pictures in the dirt with Rei, using sticks they’d found.

“Thank you for coming,” Liv said. “My name is Livara tär Valtteri kæn Syvä.”

“The Lady of Winter, so I hear,” Soaring Eagle said. It felt like a probe - as if they were standing opposite each other, blades in hand, testing defenses.

“Some people do.” Liv shrugged. An image of the God-Eating Queen came to mind, and she pushed it away. “I’ve never claimed the title for myself. But that isn’t important. We’ve arranged for you to be here so that you have a vote on what happens to both Wren, and to her father. You have three representatives chosen?”

“Myself, as chief,” Soaring Eagle said. “Walking Tree, the eldest among our tribe. And, if he will accept the honor, your friend Ghveris - who is, undoubtedly, the oldest living child of Ractia.”

“So long as he keeps his weapons put away during the council,” Elder Aira grumbled.

“I’m certain he will,” Liv said, pressing on. “Soaring Eagle, I’m going to invite your tribe to join the alliance.” She held up her hand, to stop him from interrupting her. “Let me finish explaining, please. The agreement is that you’re allowed to vote on the issue of Wren and her father, because of course they’re your tribe. But I need your support for more than that. Ractia’s fled, and that means we don’t have an immediate enemy. Without a war to fight, right this moment, we’re worried the alliance will fall apart. I’m going to propose you be invited to the alliance, because I need your votes to keep everything together.”

“But that isn’t the only reason,” Liv continued. “Wren and Ghveris have fought beside me over and over again. You helped my father get across Varuna. And Ractia’s cost your people perhaps more than anyone else.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve already promised Wren to help rescue your people from Godsgrave. I’ll keep that promise regardless of what you decide. Just know that we need you.”

Soaring Eagle opened his mouth once again, but his wife placed her hand on his thigh. “We will discuss this,” he said, finally. “If Wren and Ghveris would join us?”

Liv waited for them all to leave - save Blossom, who was permitted to continue playing with Rei - before turning to Aira. “You’re finally here.”

The old woman snorted. “Don’t give me a hard time, girl. Someone needed to escort those Red Shields in - and you needed time to make your bargains.”

“You could have helped,” Liv pointed out.

Aira shook her head. “No. If I had, whatever came of it would have been my work, not yours. I won’t be around forever, Livara. You needed to gather your own support, and make your own alliances, without me.”

Liv grimaced, but she supposed she could see the point. “Now you’re here, when does the council begin?”

“We’ll start just after the midday meal,” the old woman answered.

“Good. That gives me time to have one more - brief - conversation,” Liv declared. “Kaija. Can you send someone over to invite Keri’s aunt here?”

Keri shifted, where he was sitting close at hand on one of the logs that had been dragged up near the fire. “You’ve made a decision on whether to accept her terms, then?” he asked.

Liv quite deliberately reached out and took his hand in hers. The act sent a thrill through her. “I have.”

It took Väina tär Väinis long enough to come - between a guard running to the House Bælris camp, and then the old woman making the walk back - that Liv had finished her plate and handed it off to Thora by the time she arrived.

Väina drew herself up, across the circle from Liv, and glanced around the assembled group at the cook fire. She gave a nod to Aira, but ignored the humans and the younger Eld, save for Liv herself, and a single pointed glance at where Liv clasped Keri’s hand in her own. “You have made your decision, then?”

“I have.” Liv met the older woman’s gaze without flinching or looking away. “You know, I said these same words to an elder last night. I tried to think of a better way to put it, but I just can’t.” She took a single breath.

“Fuck you.”

Väina recoiled. “You -”

“You want to force me to take your son, or Keri, as my daiverim,” Liv said, interrupting the old woman. “You want to buy and sell men, just like the Lucanians do their daughters. Trinity, I’ve always hated that. So no, I’m not going to do it. Whatever happens between Keri and I is no concern of yours, and it wouldn’t be fair to him to take your offer. It would be like trying to water a garden with poison. So you can vote however you like, Väina. We may succeed, and we may fail, but whichever it is, we’ll do it without you. You can go now.”

Väina’s eyes flashed around the assembled group, and she opened her mouth once, then clearly thought better of speaking. With a huff, she stormed off.

“Well, that’s that,” Liv said. “We’ve done what we can. Now we see how it all plays out.”