Hello awesome readers. Sorry for the delay in posting. Life got crazy with work, teaching new intensive English courses in Prague, and I couldn't find the time to write for several weeks. I also wanted to get ahead of the story again. I'm pleased to say that I'm now ahead of the story - I just finished writing Chapter 24, so I feel good about sharing Chapter 22 with you. I hope you enjoy it.

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Chapter 22 – Synneva's Shadowed Heart

When Elsa woke again to diffuse daylight in her room, she felt the change in her body. The lethargy and heat that had so plagued her at night was much less. The pain was sharper now, but it felt almost cleaner, not so fuzzy with infection.

She lay in her bed and breathed slowly, carefully, taking stock of her depleted body. She felt much more able to think objectively now, and she brought her hand up to her face to touch the bandage that covered her eye. The hurt underneath it was thin and fiery, and when she made a face, she could feel the pull of the few stitches on her cheekbone. For the first time since the incident she wondered what scars she would have on her face.

Elsa put her attention next on her shoulder and the hole in her chest. It was still the source of the greatest pain, though the jagged edges of it had already been tempered by sleep and healing. Her breath was lighter, easier. She tensed her arm to lift it and felt a yowl of pain from her shoulder. Breathing short and fierce, she left her arm alone and merely looked at the thick layer of bandage with her one eye. She lightly touched the wounds and grimaced for the thicker lines of pain underneath. She dared not sit up, not with her shoulder clamouring the way it was, so with her awareness alone she quested for the hurt in her leg. Closing her eyes she felt her way inside the broken bone and also felt a subtle quieting of the ache that had been so tempestuous the day before.

This truly was a miraculous place of healing waters. How else could such healing arise?

"Your Majesty?" she heard from the doorway. Elsa carefully turned her head and noticed Gerda coming into the room, bearing a tray of food. "I'm so glad to see you awake, my lady," Gerda was saying as she bustled her way in.

"What time is it?" Elsa asked. The sunlight looked odd, not like morning sunlight at all.

"Past midday on July 18."

Well, that would do it. She had just slept for over twelve hours.

And the day of Anna duelling with Nils in her armour, the day of the shard of Hans' sword, and the day of their battle against men and wolves had been two days ago.

Elsa was glad she had not lost track of any more time in her illness.

"How are you feeling, Majesty?" Gerda was asking.

"Did we forget all the rules of our holidaying?" Elsa gently asked. "Can you not call me Elsa once more?"

Gerda had come closer, and only now did Elsa notice the dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes. "Forgive me, Elsa," the good woman said softly. "It's been a difficult few days."

Elsa heard something in Gerda's voice. And she also noticed another conspicuous absence in her sickroom. "Where is Synneva?" she asked.

Gerda paused. And then said, "Synneva has taken slightly ill, Elsa. The exhaustion of the past few days has finally caught up to her. She is abed, though she will wake and come if ever you have need."

"Will she be all right?" Elsa asked, worry clouding her heart.

"I believe so, milady. She just needs some rest. I must say, you are looking slightly better today."

"Though I woke in the middle of the night, I slept better than I believed possible, what with my broken bones and all. Perhaps this place is magic after all," Elsa replied.

Gerda had set down her tray, and then she drew a folded paper from the pocket of her dress. "There is news from Princess Anna," she said, holding out the paper.

Then they both looked at Elsa's bandaged arm, the one attached to the broken shoulder, and Gerda quietly asked, "Shall I at least open it for you, Elsa?"

Elsa nodded, pain suddenly flaring in her body and in her heart. Gerda broke the seal and unfolded the single paged note and put it into Elsa's good left hand. Elsa held up the paper, her face throbbing as she tried to focus her one eye on the words written therein.

It was short, even abrupt, and her penmanship was rougher than usual. Elsa thought of the plaster cast on Anna's sword-wrist, her writing wrist, and knew why. It would have been difficult to hold a pen.

The note said that she had arrived safe in Arendelle, and she had gone to Nils' family, to present the sword and its tale, and to offer the state funeral and death benefits. She and Kai were in the midst of preparations for Nils' funeral, which would be set for tomorrow, July 19. After which Anna would make a quick visit to the trolls with Kristoff, and then she would come back to the chalet.

The distant nature of the words broke Elsa's heart. Not for herself, but for the pain that Anna must be feeling.

But then there was an inkblot, and the tell-tale mark of a tear stain, and Elsa's heart broke even further at the words written at the end of the note.

For Anna begged for Elsa's forgiveness, and prayed for Elsa's health and safety, and hoped that she would be able to return to Elsa's loving arms. Though she said she would understand if Elsa didn't want to see her again.

The pressure of tears behind her wounded eye was immense, and one or two spilled from her good eye. She had to set down the paper before she could wipe those tears away. "A pen and paper, please, Gerda. I need to reply immediately. Is there a courier available?"

"Yes, Majesty. I'll be right back."

In moments Gerda returned with pen and paper. But Elsa was not allowed to sit up. Though she wished she could write in her own hand, she had to dictate her reply. At the end, Gerda held the paper near her so she could sign her name at the bottom. She took a moment to be grateful that she was left-handed, and still able to use her dominant hand.

Then, knowing Anna could not possibly detect it, Elsa kissed the page and handed it back to Gerda. "Please, see that it gets to her as fast as possible."

"The courier is already waiting. It takes only three hours for a single rider to get to the castle." Gerda stepped away from the door for a minute, and Elsa heard the click of boots on the hallway floor, then swift strides away and out the door.

Then Gerda returned, and she slowly and carefully fed Elsa her meal. The tray had been somewhat heavily laden, and Elsa could only stomach half of what had been prepared. After Gerda cleared away the tray, she returned and helped Elsa wash her face and hands, and tenderly changed her dressing gown.

"I know of Isolde," Elsa abruptly said as Gerda brushed out her hair.

Gerda paused, and then resumed. "I'm glad of it, Elsa. You have long deserved the truth hidden from you."

"You knew her, did you not?" Elsa quietly asked. "Can you tell me of her?"

"I remember her well, milady, and I am pleased to speak of her after so long," Gerda said as she continued to brush Elsa's hair. She began to speak of Isolde's love of horses and of the stars, her skill in statecraft, her occasional wild wanderings through the kingdom of Arendelle. How she had grown up in close proximity with her cousins, as close to Synneva as Elsa was with Anna.

Elsa lost herself in the wondrous words and did not consciously realize when she fell asleep once more.

When she woke again in the grey shadings of a beautiful summer night, she knew that Synneva was beside her. She turned her head and was shocked to behold her aunt's gray and drawn face, and pallor to her skin that Elsa had never seen before. "Synneva, are you quite all right?" she whispered.

"I'm just tired, Elsa," Synneva answered, her voice breathless and thin. "Majesty, we need to change the bandages. I'll be as gentle as possible, but this is still going to hurt."

"Do what you must," Elsa replied.

It wasn't as bad as she feared, for the pain truly was sharper and cleaner now, expressing in sudden throbs and stabs instead of the low grinding ache of yesterday. This was the physician as Elsa had always known her; severe, remote, blindingly efficient.

Only when Synneva had finished changing all the bandages and had washed her hands in a basin did Elsa ask, "Speak the truth, Synneva. Are you all right?"

Synneva paused, wiping her hands on a towel, and then she turned her head. Elsa saw her then, in the dying light of this summer day, and finally, truly, understood that this woman was her aunt. This woman had been her father's sister. She and Henrik grew up together in this very chalet. She actually knew, and had loved, Elsa's true parents. She had been privy to the decisions that had rocked Elsa's entire world.

Synneva paused at Elsa's side. "I have things to tell you," she simply said.

…

For the first day and night of Elsa's recovery, Synneva had not gone four hours without checking on her royal charge. Whether it was day or night, every four hours Synneva had crept into the room and assured herself that Elsa was actually recuperating.

She did this not only out of duty, or even a sense of family. This was Isolde's girl, and Isolde had meant more than the world to Synneva Avundir. This was the promised child of Isolde's womb, destined to bring about the end of the huntsman. No ice, no fever, and no plague of wolves would keep Synneva from doing her all to keep Elsa safe and strong.

There was only so much she could do, however. One day there would be a confrontation between Elsa and the huntsman. And although Synneva tried to have a healthy outlook regarding Elsa's inevitable encounter, she couldn't help but wonder if she was only fattening a lamb for the slaughter. Could this slender and young girl actually vanquish the man who had been the scourge of the kingdom for generations?

The pain in her body grew as these healing hours passed, until Synneva nearly passed out at the breakfast table this morning. At which point Gerda had chastised her and made her take to her room for some sorely needed rest.

When Synneva woke, she did feel refreshed. Her head was clearer, and she was more able to articulate the strange feeling that had begun to permeate the chalet.

It was quiet. And it was peaceful.

And it came from Elsa.

From the moment Elsa woke after the accident, she seemed different. Weaker, yes, and horribly injured, but somehow stronger.

How was this possible?

Elsa had always been a quiet child, but this new sense of silence within her was magnified ten-fold. As Gerda and Synneva attended to the Queen, Synneva had an opportunity to observe this silence, to try and understand it. It seemed alien to her, though she had had chances enough to observe every sort of silence throughout her own oft blighted life. It was not a silence of despair, nor a silence of heartache or loss. It wasn't a silence of arrogance or feigned bravery either. It most definitely wasn't the rotting and darksome silence of secrets kept and memories frozen.

It was a silence that was soft yet strong, like a frozen river where water still leaped, joyous, underneath the solid surface of ice. Elsa barely spoke, and she did not move from her sickbed, but her spirit seemed to permeate the entire chalet. Her silence was contagious in its simplicity and its beauty. The silence was like a spider's web sparkling with morning dew, and Synneva was loathe to break it.

But her word to her Princess must be kept, and now Elsa had asked outright once more. If she did not speak the truth, she would be an oath-breaker. She needed her oaths now, more than anything, if she was to keep giving Elsa her own lifeblood, her energy and her strength. Her few experiments with the broken heart of earth over the years had taught her that much. It relied upon truth.

Elsa's eye was on her as she finished dressing the claw marks on Elsa's arm, and her Queen's gaze was constant and soft. She did not speak as Synneva tied the bandage, and did not speak as Synneva washed her hands. She did not speak, but her attention was absolute.

It made Synneva want to tremble. She saw Isolde in so many parts of Elsa now, and the thought of her own lost cousin made her want to break down into pieces.

Only then did Elsa finally bend this utterly beautiful silence, this serenity that was both within and without. "Speak the truth, Synneva. Are you all right?" she asked.

Synneva stopped in her tracks. "I have things to tell you," she simply said.

"I would like to see you better. Will you permit me to sit up in bed?" Elsa asked. She had been lying prone on the bed since the accident.

"For a short time, yes," Synneva agreed. "Moving will hurt, and please let me know if it gets too painful. Just let me get Erik's help."

They were as gentle as possible, but Synneva could see fine beads of pain-sweat break out on Elsa's forehead after Erik was fetched to assist them in carefully hoisting her upright in her bed. Erik immediately left them again, and Sera bound Elsa's arm in a sling to help immobilize the shoulder while she was upright.

"Are you all right?" she asked as she sat down again.

Elsa's breath was shiny, but she still nodded her assent. "It's nice to sit up again." She leaned a little deeper into the pillows that had been placed at her back and even favoured Synneva with a small smile.

Then she was silent again, her focus on Synneva absolute, even with only one eye.

"Well, Elsa, I was able to share some of this with Anna before she left. Some, but not all, and she swore me to speak all of it with you. So you will receive all I know, Elsa. When I am done tonight, I will have no more secrets."

Elsa stared at her, her one unbandaged blue eye suddenly like flint steel. "A woman's heart deserves its shadow, Sera. I do not ask for all your secrets. I only ask for that which will help me serve you, and serve my people. The rest of your heart is your own affair, and needs to stay that way." Her eye and voice soft again, she continued, "Who am I to command you to bare your soul, and show your wounds? You are intuitive, Synneva. Trust that intuition, and speak only what you wish."

Synneva was momentarily taken aback, though she recovered quickly. "As you command, Your Majesty."

Her voice low, her words carried forth on the open ocean of Elsa's empathy, Synneva spoke.

"I grew up with Isolde and Agnarr, my cousins, along with Henrik, Idunn, Erik, and Mikael, my brothers and sisters. I was as close to them as you had been with Anna in your childhood. The seven of us spent golden summers here at the chalet, and then we all wintered at the palace. Isolde had always supported me in my decision to become a physician, when even my own parents had their doubts. Starting at age fifteen, I went away to study medicine in Germany for six years, returning each summer. Those summers I spent with Isolde, riding horses, watching the stars…"

The old sorrow was tarnished gold on Synneva's tongue; with every word she spoke she remembered the vibrant life of her golden-haired cousin.

And with every word she spoke she sent prayers for Isolde's continued safety as a captive of the huntsman. Now, as always, she daren't think long of Isolde as a prisoner, for it would reduce her soul to ashes, and she had work to do.

Her voice thick with emotion, she cleared her throat and continued. "As we grew older, I could see her interest in my brother growing. Henrik had always adored her. When we were young, he was a nuisance to us, but as we grew, I could see the old exasperation fading, and a new fascination growing in its place. It didn't really surprise me to receive a letter saying that they had finally become betrothed.

"I returned from Germany in time to spend a week with Isolde before her marriage to my brother. It was magical, Elsa. As if no time and no distance could keep us apart. We spent a night watching the stars, and as dawn came, Isolde promised to make me the Royal Physician of Arendelle. She also gave me this," and Synneva reached into her pocket. She withdrew a gleaming silver ring set with a simple clear blue stone.

Elsa did not say anything, but Synneva could tell she was listening with all her heart and soul.

So she continued.

"So they were married at the height of midsummer, when Isolde was nineteen years old, and Henrik was eighteen. She was only a Princess then, though heir apparent to the throne after my uncle, King Ivar. She seemed to be very happy that first year. A few months after their first anniversary, however, is when things started to change.

"What happened next was not mentioned in Agnarr's letter. He never knew of it. He was busy courting Idunn, my younger sister, and learning statecraft. Besides, there are things shared between best friends that are not shared with brothers."

Synneva stopped, took a sip of water, and then asked if Elsa needed anything. Elsa slowly shook her head, and gestured for Synneva to continue. Synneva marshalled her flagging courage and spoke.

"It was October. The festival of Winternights was approaching. And Isolde had three nights of dreams. An angel appeared to her in those dreams, and told her that angelic forces and beings of earth and sky were seeking to end the evil influence of the huntsman on the earth. In the dream she learned that she had become pregnant, and that she would give birth to a girl who would have the power to end the huntsman. But that this girl would have to be protected until she came into the full inheritance of her power."

Synneva looked carefully at Elsa as she finished speaking. Elsa's one eye had become very wide, and her face was even paler than usual.

Then Synneva's throat was clotted with the debris of memory, and for a moment she could not speak anymore.

In the unexpected silence that emerged, Elsa herself finally spoke. "Me, Synneva? Are you truly speaking about me?"

Synneva took another sip of water and answered, her voice hoarse with feeling, "Yes, Majesty. The prophecy was about you. And your powers."

"And she never told pa… Agnarr… about this dream?"

"No," Synneva replied. "She told only Henrik and I. She barely knew of the existence of the huntsman, as King Ivar tried to keep the story quiet and hidden. Isolde only knew that she had to protect her unborn child. She took exquisite care of herself during her entire pregnancy. Winter passed, and spring came, and she was so beautiful, Elsa, as she carried you." Synneva couldn't help but smile in memory, prompting Elsa to smile for her as well.

"You were born on Midsummer's Eve, and from the moment of your birth we knew that the old magic, the deep magic, was inside you. Your skin was pale, your hair white, and your power over ice and snow evident almost immediately." Synneva smiled to remember it, how Isolde had rained curses on her husband for putting her through the nightmare of labour, and how content and joyful she had been in holding Elsa for the first time.

But then memory turned sour. "It was not long after your birth that Isolde had three more nights of dreams. In the dreams she discovered that Erasmus had somehow learned of the prophecy of her baby, that this newborn child could have the power to destroy him. Isolde learned that the huntsman would seek out her baby girl, but not to kill her. He would capture her, and torment her, and strip her power away to add to his own, just as he had done so many times before.

"And, just as the most ancient of our stories say, a sacrifice could avert this possible future. Not any sacrifice, but a willing one, made in full consciousness, in free will."

Here Synneva had to stop, for Elsa's breath had become shallow and filled with pain.

"I should stop now, Majesty. You need to rest."

"Please, Synneva," Elsa whispered. "I have heard this part before. I must hear the rest."

Only the stark entreaty of her Queen could have compelled Synneva to keep speaking. Her tongue felt like a slab of dusty clay. "The implications of this dream were too dire, so she shared them with her family. King Ivar had his disastrous response. His campaign against the huntsman did not succeed, and he perished in the attempt. As you learned in the letter, Agnarr had been sent to Weselton on a trade mission. He returned just in time to see Isolde turn twenty-one years old, and she was crowned the new Queen of Arendelle.

"And Agnarr also said what happened next. That three months later, during Winternights in October, Erasmus came for you. That your mother sacrificed herself to save your life. She did so, remembering the prophecy of your birth, knowing how desperately you would be needed to someday end all this horror. A free sacrifice, a willing one, and she made it. By God, she made it," and here Synneva could bear no more words. Her eyes burned with tears, and she could not stop them from coming. Not here, in front of Isolde's girl. The last best gift of her womb.

So Synneva Avundir covered her face with her hands, and she wept for the eternal shadow upon her heart. So many instances of love and affection chiselled into her memory, of cantering horses upon seemingly endless emerald slopes, climbing rocky faces of mountains and sleeping under the stars. Seeing the bright silver wash of the Milky Way in the skies above them, and contentment filling every part of Synneva's body, so happy she couldn't help but smile and hold Isolde's warm hand.

These memories, and a thousand others, both haunted her and sustained her through her loss.

And Elsa, bless the child forever, wept with her for the lost mother she had never known.

And after the weeping was done, Synneva somehow found the strength to continue her tale, to reveal one of the last shadows upon her heart.

For with Elsa's heartfelt entreaty not to strip her soul bare, there was a final shadow Synneva would keep to herself, just as it had been kept for nearly thirty years.

"I was not there the night the huntsman came," Synneva whispered. "I was working in the hospital, and had to hear the tale from Agnarr after they returned, bearing my brother's dead body. I tended to the small wound in your arm, and was forced to stay apart from Agnarr and Idunn during their counsels that long night that they kept the vigil for our lost kin. It's probably just as well. I have much of Henrik in me. If I had had my way, I would have tracked Isolde that very night, and probably have been killed as well."

Synneva put her hand to her neck, where a leather pouch had resided for the greater part of her life. Elsa, her eyes sharp despite the pain, did not miss this movement.

"I spoke an oath that night," Synneva said. "I swore to protect you, to do everything in my power to keep you safe from harm, and to allow you to grow in your power. Imagine my anger at Agnarr, then, the night that the accident with Anna occurred, and he separated the both of you."

She paused, for Elsa had a wry smile on her face. "I can imagine it, dear Sera."

Synneva barked in short laughter, and then grew pensive once more. "I have never yelled at him like I did that night. After Henrik died and Isolde was lost, I was too sad to be angry. That night, however, the night he separated you from Anna, I ripped him up one side and down the other. It still didn't change his mind. In fact, he nearly threw me out of the palace, but Idunn calmed him down."

"You did not feel you could tell him of Isolde's first dream?" Elsa asked, her voice small. "You could not tell him how important it was for me to use and develop my power?"

Synneva sighed. "I wanted to. But something always stopped me. I thought it was intuition, then. Perhaps I was just being foolish, keeping Isolde's secrets for her because she wasn't there to keep them herself."

Synneva stopped yet again, this time for a solid minute.

Elsa's gaze was strong, mixed with empathy and authority. When Sera still could not speak, she heard Elsa say, "Sera, what last truth clouds your tongue? Have you told me all that you told Anna?"

Synneva looked ruefully at her Queen.

She sees too clearly. By God, how does she see me like this?

"There is one last thing, Queen Elsa," Synneva slowly said. "As you may have noticed, there was too much truth to the fireside story I told a week ago, the story of our ancient enemy, Erasmus the huntsman. Ever since my childhood I had known the stories, but always with this filter of fairy tale and untruth. My father, Jens, took me aside when I was about to leave for medical school and entrusted me with something I could scarcely believe existed.

"First, he told me the truth about the fairy tale. He gave me the true account of his own mother, Marta, who had sacrificed her life to save him. His grandfather, Marik, who had been a true prince of Arendelle and gifted with magic. He even told me the few eyewitness accounts he could recall of the huntsman himself, though he had been but a small child and nearly oblivious to the undercurrents of his own existence. But when the story was done, my head reeling from all I had learned, he gave me a large blood-red diamond, cloven in two."

Elsa's eye went wide. Synneva could only imagine how much the other eye must hurt under its bandage. "You don't mean…" her Queen whispered.

"I have been the caretaker of the broken heart of the earth since my formative years," Synneva softly agreed. "It was upon the heart of the earth that I spoke my first oath to you, the night that Henrik died and Isolde was taken captive, to guard you and protect you until the end of my life.

"And then I spoke another oath, the night that you lay dying in my hospital a few weeks ago. I could not lose you, Elsa, not to the killing fever. I don't know how, but I swear that the fever that plagued you after the death of your adoptive parents and the more recent fever is the evil work of the huntsman. He has the power of fire, you know. My dreams have shown me much, over the years.

"You were dying, and that could not be. Not you, our last best hope."

Now that Synneva had once again come to the precipice of this admission, she felt within herself the same unmanning exhaustion she had felt two nights ago with the aftermath of men and wolves. She knew she was no longer making perfect sense, but with every beat of her heart she could feel her energy being given to the woman before her. She had sworn the oath, and now she was paying the price.

Nearing the edge of her own sanity and strength, Synneva forced her clay tongue to complete the secret tale of her shadowed heart.

"So I spoke the oath, Elsa, upon the heart of earth that had once resided within the first Princess Anna. I spoke an oath of sacrifice. My lifeblood for yours. My health for yours.

"And I count it well spent."

She could see a fire of wonder and awe rising in Elsa's eye.

And Synneva could speak no more. Her entire soul felt harrowed, as deep as a plough harrowed the earth, preparing it for seeding and eventual harvest. Though her body felt heavy with pain she borrowed from Elsa, her soul felt light and free as a bird.

"Your lifeblood for mine?" Elsa repeated in a shocked whisper, unknowingly echoing Anna's words.

"Yes."

"Are you in pain?"

"Yes."

Elsa's un-bandaged eye was fierce with compassion. It made Synneva want to tremble.

"Come closer to me, please," Elsa softly asked.

Curious, Synneva shuffled closer to her queen.

And she found Elsa taking her face in her one always cool hand, and then her queen kissed one cheek, then the next cheek, and then Synneva's forehead. These were kisses of deepest respect and admiration, the abasement of royalty to a power even greater than their own. In all her life, Synneva had only received these kisses three times. Elsa now, Anna before she left two days ago, and Isolde the night she gave Synneva her title and her most precious ring.

Synneva wept again, closing her eyes to Isolde's girl as she leaned back in her chair.

Elsa took her hand. And said nothing.

Once again Elsa's majestic silence reigned supreme. Peace and contentment sifted through Synneva's body, and she wondered how much of it came from Elsa, and how much from the telling of secrets long festering in her soul.

Whatever the source, it was a boon to her, and she would accept it.

Long, blessed moments passed.

"Thank you, Majesty," Synneva finally said, taking her hand from Elsa's and wiping her eyes with her handkerchief.

"You have my thanks, Synneva Avundir," Elsa said, and her voice was so like Isolde's. "My thanks, and my gratitude, up until the end of my life. Whatever boon you would ask I would fulfill. Speak the truth, Synneva. Is there nothing you would ask of your niece, or of your queen?"

"Only to remain in your service, Queen Elsa," Synneva replied without hesitation, barely able to speak the words.

"You have ever served faithfully and well," Elsa replied, and Synneva could hear the weight of snow in her voice, a mixture of pain and confusion and love. "I pray to be worthy of your trust."

There was a clear note of finality in her voice, a voice so taxed now by pain and truth-telling.

"One last thing remains to be told, Elsa," Synneva said, her own body crying out for rest and solace.

"Please."

"Anna gave me words to tell you. She charged me to tell you about Isolde's dream, and about the oath of sacrifice I spoke on your behalf. And then she told me that she wished so much that she could have stayed here with you."

Synneva could not bear to look at Elsa as she spoke these words. She turned her head to the wall as she fulfilled the last of Anna's charge.

"She said to tell you that she'll take care of your kingdom until you are ready to rule again. And for you to know that she loves you. And only you. Always you."

Synneva set her jaw over the remembered ardour of Anna's words. She had lived her entire life in a lack of love. Synneva had loved a woman or two as the years had advanced, but the greatest love of her life had been oblivious to her intentions. Synneva had loved silently, from afar, and felt damned.

To see these cousins together, laughing, living, and loving; it was almost more than Synneva could bear to witness. The rightness of it flung darts into her very soul.

To her surprise, she felt Elsa's hand upon her hand, and she opened her eyes once again to her Queen's beautiful, one-eyed gaze. "Rest now, dearest Synneva. You have spilt enough shadows for one night. Sleep, and may your dreams be the sweetest they have ever been."