Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

C larice hurried through the village, her new boots warm against the snow. Her body still hummed happily from their earlier encounter, and warmth filled her chest despite the frigid air. The memory of his glowing antlers, the way he’d touched her, made her pulse quicken. If Lina hadn’t burst in…

She touched her heated cheeks and smiled. Tonight couldn’t come soon enough.

The village square buzzed with activity as she crossed it, and Lina went flying off to join a group of other children playing by the hall. Most of the adults were gathered around a tall figure dressed in elaborate furs and silks that seemed excessive even in this climate. His features twisted in disgust as he surveyed the villagers.

“The Frost King’s come down from his mountain,” a female whispered nearby, her tone bitter. “Eldrik only shows his face when he wants something.”

She slowed her pace, studying the imposing male. So this was the infamous Eldrik. His manor loomed above the village like a fortress of ice, visible even through the morning mist. The villagers kept their distance, forming a wary circle around him as he gestured dramatically.

“Look how they cower,” another voice muttered. “Acting like he owns us all because he controls the power supply.”

Understanding clicked into place. The dim lights, the candles in Miran’s cottage, the villagers’ concerns about resources—it all traced back to this pompous figure. Her initial curiosity hardened into dislike as she watched him glare at a young mother trying to quiet her crying baby.

She hurried on towards Miran’s cottage, wondering why someone with so much seemed to hold such contempt for those with less. The disparity reminded her too much of Earth, of the wealthy few who’d hoarded resources while others suffered.

Even on the refugee ship, there had been a first class section reserved for those who had resources to trade for the privilege. Ruth’s suite had been located there, the spacious rooms a far cry from her own cramped cabin. She’d spent a lot of time in that section, especially in the later stages of Ruth’s illness, but she’d always been uneasily aware of how little she belonged.

Shoving the memory aside, she slipped into Miran’s cottage. The herbal scents washed over her, but the usual welcoming warmth of the cottage was charged with tension. Miran paced between her workbenches, muttering under her breath, her colorful robes swishing with each sharp turn. Her wrinkled hands clenched and unclenched, and worry lines creased her golden face.

Something was wrong. The pleasant buzz from her morning with Rudi faded as her stomach knotted. She moved to the stove, gathering the herbs for Miran’s favorite calming tea. Her fingers trembled slightly as she measured the dried leaves, but she forced herself to focus on the familiar motions.

“Here.” She pressed the warm cup into Miran’s hands, guiding her to sit in her favorite chair. “What’s happened?”

Miran’s fingers tightened around the cup, her knuckles pale against her golden skin.

Her chest tightened at the fear in her mentor’s eyes. In the week she’d known her, she’d never seen the confident healer so rattled.

“What’s wrong?”

She managed to keep her voice steady despite her rising anxiety.

Miran’s shoulders slumped as she sank back in the chair. Her weathered face looked older than usual in the flickering candlelight.

“It’s that monster, Eldrik.” Miran’s hands were shaking so badly that tea sloshed over the rim of her cup. “He’s gone too far this time.”

Her pulse began to race as she remembered the imposing figure she’d glimpsed in the square, his icy blue skin gleaming as he’d looked down at the villagers with barely concealed disdain.

“He’s been squeezing us for years,” the healer continued, her voice tight with anger. “First it was just higher rates for power access. Then ‘temporary’ restrictions. Now...” She drew a ragged breath. “He’s calling everyone together to announce his final demand—our land in exchange for power.”

“Your land?”

“Yes. Although he’s promised to lease it back at very ‘reasonable’ rates,” Miran said bitterly. “Lease us our own property!”

“But he can’t just-” She stopped herself. Of course he could. Her hands clenched in her lap as anger rose in her chest.

“The worst part is, he’ll get away with it.” Miran sighed, despair replacing her anger. “The coldest part of winter is still to come. Without power for heat and light, people will freeze. What choice do we have? If only Niklaus were here.”

Her fingers traced the rim of her teacup as she listened, but the fragrant herbal scent couldn’t mask the sourness of fear rising in her throat.

“Niklaus? I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”

“He’s our true leader—not that frost-covered tyrant. Niklaus has guided us through every crisis, but now...” Her voice cracked. “He left weeks ago to seek help from the other settlements. I’m afraid he won’t be back before the Wintertide festival, and Eldrik has only given us until then to comply.”

“Isn’t the festival this week?”

“Yes. In four days.” Miran’s shoulders sagged. “Eldrik knows we’re especially vulnerable without Niklaus here to stand against him. The timing is deliberate—he’s forcing us to choose between our homes and freezing in the dark during the coldest night of the year.”

She thought of Rudi’s warm cottage, the safety she’d found there. She knew he wasn’t dependent on anyone else, but the idea that Eldrik could strip that away from the other villagers made her stomach clench. She’d lost an entire planet to forces beyond her control—she wouldn’t stand by and watch it happen to this village.

“There has to be something we can do,” she said, setting down her cup with more force than intended. “Some way to fight back.”

“Without access to power?” Miran shook her head. “The crystals Rudi processes help, but they’re not enough to sustain the whole village through winter without a way to recharge them. Eldrik knows exactly how to break us.”

“Could you send for Niklaus?”

“No power for communications,” the old female said bitterly. “And I don’t think anyone in the village will take the chance of openly opposing him by going after Niklaus-”

Miran broke off, tilting her head to one side. “No one except Rudi,” she added slowly.

“Rudi?”

“He’s not dependent on Eldrik.”

She nodded thoughtfully. His isolation, which had caused him so much pain, might now be his greatest asset.

“He also knows these mountains better than anyone,” Miran continued, her eyes bright.

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d heard enough from the villagers to know that traveling through the mountains at the time of year was dangerous. She remembered how his antlers had illuminated the bedroom that morning, how vulnerable he’d allowed himself to be with her. The possibility that something might happen to him was unbearable. Yet she also knew what it meant to be an outsider, desperate to prove your worth.

“I know most of the village has never accepted him,” she said softly, running her finger along a crack in the wooden table. “But if he found Niklaus...”

“They’d have to see him differently.” Miran reached across and squeezed Clarice’s hand. “Child, I’ve watched that boy carry the weight of rejection for too long. Sometimes the greatest gifts come disguised as burdens.”

“I know he could do it,” she agreed. “But will he?”

Miran smiled at her. “Why don’t you ask him?”

She bit her lip, then nodded and left, hurrying back through the snowy streets. The village buzzed with tension as more people streamed toward the square where Eldrik held court. She caught fragments of worried conversations about power shortages and land rights, but kept moving, eager to return.

Her heart lifted when she spotted his tall figure walking away from the village shop. Even from behind, she recognized the proud set of his shoulders, the way he moved with careful grace despite his size. The memory of their earlier encounter came flooding back, bringing warmth to her cheeks despite the bitter cold.

“Rudi!” she called out, quickening her pace.

He turned, his expression softening as he saw her. That small change, visible only to someone who knew him well, made her heart sing. But there wasn’t time to dwell on that now—not with the fate of the village hanging in the balance.

“We need to talk,” she said, catching up to him. “Something’s happening, something important.”

He frowned down at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not here.” She glanced around at more villagers hurried past. “Can we go home first?”

The word ‘home’ slipped out naturally, and she saw it register in his eyes. For a moment, she thought he might question it, but he simply nodded and fell into step beside her.

As they walked, she tried to organize her arguments. She needed him to see this wasn’t just about helping the village that had shunned him—it was about proving to himself what she already knew: that he was capable of extraordinary things. The trick would be convincing him without pushing too hard.

She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. To her delight, he didn’t pull away, instead giving her hand a gentle squeeze. The gesture filled her with hope. Perhaps he was finally ready to step out of the shadows and into his own light.