But, alas, it was way too late for that.

Then Father commanded his driver, “Onward,” their sleigh moved forward, Frey steered Tyr behind it and the guard and Frey’s men surrounded us.

This, I found shortly after we rounded the fountain, was not going to be a stately, sedate royal procession. All the horses were prompted to a fast canter and it would become apparent why. This was because where we were going was not close to the city but far away.

At our pace, Snowdon was quickly left behind, we climbed and rounded the low swell of a mountain and came out on another valley, this one dotted liberally with dark tents that had open fires but the tent city was a ghost town for beyond that there was a sea of people edged by horses and sleighs all spread in front of a wooden platform. This was all lit against the falling night by an abundance of torches, especially around the platform. As we drew nearer then started to ride through an avenue of onlookers that was being forged by Father’s guard as well as members of the guard who met them who had already been there patrolling the crowds on horseback, I saw the platform was a scaffold and behind it an elevated dais on which there were three thrones that were only mildly ornate compared to King Baldur’s and if the events that were going to occur weren’t going to occur I would have thought they were way cool. Obviously, dreading what was to come, I didn’t give it a thought.

Then my thoughts were turned from the thrones (but mostly the scaffold with its three, dangling rope nooses) as a cheer started to ring the air which escalated to a shout which heightened to a deafening chant of, “The Dragon and The Ice!”

I started to look around as we rode through the mass of people and I saw a great number of salutes aimed Frey’s way, arms thrown in the air, huge beaming smiles and bigger shouting mouths as eyes stayed glued to Frey and I and the chant kept rising as we rode.

It was like we were rock stars arriving at a concert and it would be, I suspected, disconcerting normally. Considering that evening’s events, it was ghoulish.

To take my mind off of it, I twisted, looked up to Frey and asked, “The Ice?”

His eyes, which were pointed over my head, alert and scanning, came down to me. “I do not know, wee one. I’ve never heard it before but it would seem you’ve earned a nickname.”

“Great,” I muttered, looking ahead again.

I mean, “The Ice” was pretty cool, I suppose. I just didn’t feel it was fitting.

I didn’t have a chance to consider my new handle because it didn’t take long to make it to the platform and then no one hesitated to move swiftly to it including Atticus and Aurora who exited their sleigh almost the instant it stopped, Father not even waiting for someone to approach to open the little sleigh door. Frey swung down nearly before Tyr came to a halt then immediately reached up to pull me down. What made me feel a whole lot better was when the entirety of his men, including Kell and Skylar, also dismounted and ascended the platform with us to line up at the back of our thrones with Frey standing at my right side, Thad at my left, Skylar in front of Thad and Kell at my back.

Truth be told, it didn’t make me feel better… it made me feel great; their show of support was awesome.

That was until the crowd took this in, The Drakkar and his men flanking his bride, and they went totally freaking berserk.

Shit.

Sitting in my throne, I reached out to grab Frey’s hand, tugged on it and he bent so his ear was at my mouth which also caused a crushing wave of sound.

“Maybe the guys being here –” I started and Frey turned his head to catch my eyes.

“They stand with you,” he stated implacably.

“But, all those people are –” I began again and Frey cut me off again.

“All those people are a mob of unknowns with unknown intents. You are exposed. My men stand with you.”

Oh. Right. That made sense.

So it wasn’t a show of support so much as protection.

That worked too.

“Okay,” I whispered, Frey’s lips twitched then he straightened, faced the crowd, squeezed my hand reassuringly once then let it go to cross his arms on his chest.

I took the hint, time to be a princess, so I put both hands in my lap, clutching them tight.

It was then a ripple filtered through the crowd, changing the euphoric excitement to something else that didn’t feel very good and my eyes shifted to back of the sea of people. There I saw a black, covered sleigh led by four black horses that had entered the avenue we’d left behind and this was guarded by a large phalanx of my father’s armed soldiers.

The condemned had arrived and almost immediately the crowd, already having started to whip themselves into a frenzy at seeing Frey and I, didn’t delay in shouting jeers and throwing snowballs that hit the side of the covered sleigh, the horses and even the guard who, luckily, carried large shields at their sides.

“Oh no,” I whispered as my body tensed and I felt, in two places, reassuring squeezes. One was my right shoulder and that was from Frey. The other was my left and that, to my surprise, was Kell reaching over the back of my throne to do it swiftly then removing his hand.

Father stood and strode purposefully across the platform and down the steps to the scaffold where he spoke with a guard there then he strode back, face stony, the guard peeling off and I understood his intent but it was too late. The sleigh was now being rocked back and forth by the number of snowballs hitting it and the jeers had escalated to the point the air felt laced with acid. Once the sleigh stopped at the gallows, more guards rode forward to form a shield of horses around it as well as further guards on foot marching down to stand in front of the horses, the men unsheathing their swords in warning.

But it was too late.

Much too late.

And the guards knew it so they wasted even less time.

The prisoners were led out of the sleigh and quickly moved across the scaffold to stand at their noose. The two men first with Viola, looking thin, pale and terrified, bringing up the rear.

It was Viola and perhaps the violent and public way her scheme had been carried out that caught the sheer force of the biting fervor of the crowd and the minute she became visible to onlookers, snowballs were hurled with such violence and quantity, her frame jerked with every missile that landed and it became clear very quickly that these projectiles had been prepared in advance and embedded with rocks or maybe worse as only snow would not rip through her coarse clothing or tear open her skin.

And it was when she slipped on the snow at her feet and fell to her hands and knees, her hair sodden and dripping, her clothing in tatters within seconds, the icy missiles coming fast even as guards stood in front of her, holding up shields attempting to shelter her and getting pelted in their attempt, the crowd going wild at her fall and a new wave of sound hit me that I lost it.