Frozen heart (Heart Series 2)

                                                                                          **Book one- The prophecy**

    Snow was falling from grey clouds as a small carriage advanced slowly on the lonely road. The carriage was surrounded by war horses—their riders looking battle worn and tired. The warrior in front, who seemed to be their leader, kept looking at the sky from time to time with a frown. Then he would look at the carriage as if he could see the young woman inside of it.

Ice wolves howled in the forest, and the young woman shivered because of the cold. Or perhaps she was afraid of the wild beasts. When the howling stopped, she looked out the window while she pulled her cloak tight around her. In the distance, the tall peaks of the mountains were hiding between the dark clouds. The woman opened the window, stuck a gloved hand out, caught a snowflake in her hand, and studied it until it melted.

‘The snowflakes are quite pretty,’ she thought, ‘but I wish I could see something else.’ After almost three weeks of seeing snow all the time, she had grown tired of it. She sighed as she closed the window. The Kingdom of Nordmar was her new home, and she would have to get used to the snow.

As the carriage got close to its destination, she thought about everything she had read about Nordmar.

Of all the kingdoms on the Uzhor Continent, the Kingdom of Nordmar was the biggest, wildest, and coldest. It was the home of the Eternal Winter, and snow covered almost all of it. Up in the vast mountains of Nordmar, it was so cold that few animals lived there. The peaks were so tall they seemed to reach the sky. Big forests of winter oaks, pines, and evergreen trees covered the many plateaus of Nordmar's mountains.

Scattered across the land were clans inhabited by strong men. Tall, wild, and proud, the Nordmarians were born to dominate the inhospitable land they lived in and were often called barbarians.

       Many claimed that Rhobart Braveheart, the king of Nordmar, was one of the cruelest men on the continent. The stories told about him around campfires described him as a man with a heart that was as cold and cruel as the land he ruled. After a long absence from the Royal Castle, fighting a thirteen-year war against the Kingdom of Myrthana, King Rhobart was making his way home. But he wasn't returning alone. For in the carriage was Princess Ayla, the daughter of King Amul, former king of Myrthana. A Fire Mage, seven Paladins, and a few knights formed the group that traveled with King Rhobart.

When Nordmar won the war, Prince Galian, the newly crowned king of the Kingdom of Myrthana, begged King Rhobart to spare the lives of his people. He also wanted to make peace between the two kingdoms. In return, Princess Ayla, King Galian's sister, would become a war prize. A slave to the Barbarian King. Upon hearing King Galian's proposal, King Rhobart looked insulted, as if Princess Ayla was not good enough to become his slave. To King Galian’s relief, the King of Nordmar signed the peace treaty, grabbed Ayla, and left Myrthana.

From the day Ayla left Myrthana behind, all she ever saw from the small window of the carriage that brought her closer and closer to her upcoming prison were forests, mountains, and roads full of snow. Most lakes and rivers were frozen. Ayla hated the cold more than anything.

Myrthana was nothing like the cold Nordmar; it was full of life and always warm and home to Everlasting Spring. Ayla was sure she would have frozen to death if not for the Fire Mage, Milton. He had been kind enough to buy her a warm dress, boots, gloves, and a cloak.

On Ayla’s lap, a snowcat, Kerra, was sleeping. Lost in her thoughts, Ayla’s fingers absently stroked the snowcat’s warm fur. From time to time, Kerra would purr softly. King Rhobart forbade the knights and the Paladins from speaking to Ayla. And so, the snowcat had been Ayla’s only constant companion for the last three weeks, and she grew fond of Kerra.   

When King Rhobart left Kerra to stay with Ayla, Milton explained that Kerra was not an ordinary snowcat; she was a magical snowcat, and she had two forms—one of a normal snowcat, while the other was a fighting form. In her fighting form, Kerra was as tall as a pony and as strong as a shadowbeast.

Ayla had never seen a snowcat before Kerra, and certainly not a magical one, but she had read about them. While her eyes surveyed the forest, Ayla petted one of Kerra’s tails. It was common knowledge that magical snowcats had two tails. In the past, they had been common in Nordmar, but a strange disease killed almost all of them. Very few magical snowcats still lived in the wild. From what Ayla read, magical snowcats were completely white with green eyes. Kerra’s ears and the tips of her tails were black, while her eyes were red. Milton said it was probably that Kerra was the runt of her litter. King Rhobart found her, almost frozen to death, fifteen years ago. Since then, the snowcat has been his loyal companion.

An abrupt stop almost caused Ayla to fall from her seat. Some of the men swore and yelled something. A few moments later, the carriage’s door opened, and Kerra jumped from Ayla’s lap and ran outside. Ayla was thinking of asking King Rhobart to let her stretch her legs for a few minutes when he entered. He looked at Aya with cold eyes and sat across from her.

It was the first time King Rhobart entered the carriage since the day he grabbed her by her arm and dragged her from the Council Room to the main gate. He shoved her inside the carriage and told her she was not allowed to leave it unless he permitted it. Ayla slept, ate, and spent the majority of her time inside the damn thing. The only things that distracted her from dying of boredom were Kerra and listening to the Paladins talking. The King rarely spoke, and when he did, he sounded like a troll.

‘The King of the Trolls!’ Ayla thought.

If she never saw the carriage again, she would be perfectly happy. Perhaps she would find a way to burn it once they reached their destination.

Ayla didn’t think she would ever get used to how imposing King Rhobart was. He was around 6’7, with strong arms and legs, a beard, and long black hair braided in a Nordmarian style. Each time she saw him, her hand started to tremble. He had never spoken a kind word to her nor looked at her with anything other than disdain and hatred in his eyes. It was no wonder she was terrified of him.

For a few moments, Ayla studied his face. The King looked exhausted. He also looked older than his twenty-six winters. He might have been kinder if he had not been forced to fight in the war from a young age.

He stared back at her, and for a heartbeat, all his anger vanished, and he appeared to be kind. Even handsome. But then she blinked, and she found herself gazing into his cold black eyes. The look of hatred and disgust on his face gave her the impression that she was his greatest enemy. Ayla felt as if a dagger had stabbed her in the chest. She wondered why. Not care what he thought of her.

She lowered her gaze as she didn’t want to see the hate in his eyes.

A grunt and mumbled words made their way to Ayla’s ears. “I am afraid I didn’t understand you, my King,” she said as she looked at him.

“I am not your King! Don’t call me that!” King Rhobart said, almost shouting. He sounded as angry as he looked.

Ayla flinched and fisted her palms. Of course, he was not her King. He was her new Master.

The King opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. Seconds later, he closed it and clenched his teeth.

“What should I call you, then?” Ayla asked in a low tone. “Your Majesty.”

The King pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and took a deep breath. Moments later, he replied, “King Rhobart is enough.”

The King opened the door, and before he left the carriage, with his back to her, King Rhobart told Ayla the words she had dreaded since the journey started, “We are here.”

Ayla looked out the window, but all she could see were trees and snow. She frowned. It looked like they were in the middle of nowhere.

“Where?” Ayla asked, confused, but King Rhobart had already left the carriage.