Linnea had swum here from Storvatten, so she had only her swimsuit. Fortunately, when she’d made the trek across land a week and a half ago, the weather had been a bit warmer, but I still wasn’t sure how she had made it.
I supposed she was like my mother—much tougher than she appeared. Skojare like my mom and Linnea had to be in order handle the harsh temperatures of swimming in a freezing lake during the winter.
Ridley gave her his jacket, and I gave her my jeans. That meant I’d be venturing out in only my leggings, which wasn’t ideal, but I would make due.
When we pushed through the branches the way we had come in, it was the strangest feeling. It was almost like a dream within a dream, where even after you awake, you’re still dreaming. It was totally dark when we emerged from Lake Isolera, which was very disorienting since the sun had somehow still been up there.
Fortunately, the snow had stopped. The moon was only a sliver, but the fresh snow reflected it, making it appear brighter. Thanks to the strings and broken branches I’d left behind on our trail, we were able to make it back to the SUV with relative ease.
But by the time we reached it, I could barely remember what Lake Isolera had looked like.
TWELVE
repatriation
It was very late on Monday night when Ridley pulled the SUV in front of the palace in Doldastam. Ridley and I had taken shifts driving on the way back, the same way we had on the way there, but we were both tired and sore from the long journey. Linnea, on the other hand, sat up in the backseat, wide eyed and excited the whole time.
She’d hardly seen any of the world outside of Storvatten, and even though most of our trip involved empty roads and wide open spaces, Linnea still watched out the window with rapt interest. For what little interaction she had with the human world—when we’d stopped at gas stations and boarded the train—she almost exploded with delight.
We’d disguised her gills as best we could by giving her a scarf to wrap around her neck, and she’d worn one of my hoodies and a pair of jeans. My clothes were a bit big on her, but that worked in the case of the sweatshirt. It gave the hood ample room to cover her curls and drape over her gills.
Two Högdragen stood guard just outside the front door of the palace—a new feature since the whole “war” had started—and they stopped us, as if Viktor Dålig would knock politely on the front door if he came to assassinate the King.
One of the Högdragen was Kasper Abbott, Tilda’s boyfriend—well, fiancé now. The streetlamps made the silver flourishes on his black uniform shimmer. His black curls were gelled perfectly into place, and his beard was immaculately groomed. He stood at attention, but he gave me a quizzical look as Ridley, Linnea, and I approached them.
“The palace is closed for the night,” the first guard informed us.
“We have business with the King,” Ridley replied.
“What business do you have with the King?” Kasper asked, and he glanced away from me over to Linnea, who was still hidden in the oversized hooded sweatshirt.
The other guard glared at Kasper, and then before Ridley could answer, the guard told us, “The King and Queen have retired for the night. Come back in the morning.”
“Elliot, this is Ridley Dresden, the Rektor and the Överste,” Kasper said, doing his best not to chastise his comrade in front of us. “If he wants to see the King, it must be important.”
“I have orders from the King not to disturb him.” Elliot kept his head high and his shoulders back.
I could see this was going to get us nowhere, so I turned to Linnea, who had been staring up at the massive stained-glass window above the front door to the palace. When she looked back down at me, I nodded, encouraging her. Linnea pushed back her hood and pulled the scarf from around her neck, then smiled up at the guards.
“You may recognize Linnea Biâelse, the missing Queen of the Skojare,” Ridley explained with a hint of snark. “I think that King Evert will make an exception for us now.”
“Elliot,” Kasper said in a voice just above a whisper. “Get the King. I’ll take them to the meeting room to wait for him.”
“Yes, of course.” Elliot quickly bowed before Linnea. “Sorry, Your Highness.” He took a step back, stumbling on the cobblestones, and then hurried inside to get the King.
“I’m sorry about that.” Kasper relaxed his demeanor after Elliot left. “He’s a good guard. He can just be overzealous sometimes.”
Kasper led us inside the palace and down the hall to the room where I usually met with the King. Since nobody had been expecting us, the hearth was dark, and it was rather chilly. The cold front that had descended upon Doldastam last week showed no signs of letting up.
Linnea shivered involuntarily, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or something else. When Kasper rushed over to start a fire for us, she smiled as she thanked him, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked her, and she nodded and met me with the same smile she’d given him—thin, forced. There was a hardness to her expression, making her appear like a china doll.
While Ridley brought more logs over to the fireplace to help Kasper get it going faster, I walked over to Linnea. She stood at the edge of the room, her arms wrapped around herself, and when I put my hand on her shoulder, she jumped a little.
“What’s wrong?” I asked softly.
“I’m just nervous.” Linnea tried to force a smile at me, but she gave up and let out a panicked breath. “There’s no going back now, is there?”