Summary: After years of solitude, Elsa now seeks to be the queen Arendelle deserves. But when Arendelle is invaded by a Southern King who is intent on deposing Elsa and claiming Arendelle, Elsa must muster all her courage to protect her country, and herself.
Chapter Three
- The Duel in the Snow -
The outer courtyard was quiet at this late an hour. Black sky stretched in every direction and only thin wisps of cloud dared attempt hide the crescent moon from glowing over the palace. A half-dozen lanterns illuminated the courtyard, held high on poles by men astride horses. The horses shook their heads and stamped their hooves on the stonework, as if they were eager and anxious to be gone after a long time spent indoors. Their riders were more reticent, one more so than any of the others.
Anna scowled beside her chestnut mare. She dressed in a dark green traveling cloak pinned at her throat with a sensible broach. She made no effort to mount her horse, instead she looked about as bull-headed as Elsa had ever seen her before. Faces like that – especially when they were worn by mulish redheads – spelled trouble.
"You can't make me leave," Anna hissed petulantly.
Elsa fought to keep her face still. "It's far too dangerous," she said for what was probably the fifteenth time that night. "If everything goes as planned tomorrow then you can come back, but if not. . ." She couldn't bring herself to describe what would happen if Ser Lennox didn't win his duel tomorrow.
"We can get through this together," Anna said emphatically. "Just like we did before." She sounded so hopeful – so optimistically certain that things would be all right if they would only face this challenge together. Elsa wanted to believe her – she really did – but the part of her that was trying her hardest to be a real queen called herself to heel.
This is for the best, she reminded herself. "You heard Maximilian yesterday," she said. "If we fail – and if Maximilian captures us both, what do you think will happen?" She didn't give Anna a chance to reply. "He'll put you on the throne, but what do you imagine will happen to me?"
Tears beaded in Anna's eyes, and she turned her head away. Elsa pressed the advantage and tried to ignore the horrible guilt in her chest. "You're my heir, Anna. If I die then you're the last hope Arendelle has. I won't see you captured and forced to marry some Ovelian nobleman twice your age just so Maximilian's grip on our kingdom can be assured. I would rather die than see that happen to you."
Anna's lips quivered and she turned away to wipe her eyes with her sleeve. When she didn't reply, Elsa knew she had won. She glanced to where Knight-Captain Evangeline waited and nodded. The slender guardswoman came over and gently lead Anna away. When she was mounted, and her head swallowed in the confines of her cloak's hood, Evangeline returned, carrying one of the lantern poles over her head.
"She understands," Evangeline said in an undertone. "But it doesn't make this any easier." The Knight-Captain hesitated, then said. "I can't help but feel uneasy. Ser Lennox is a famous fighter, certainly, but he's well-past his prime. Send me against the Ovelian champion and I will see this duel won."
"Have you expressed your concerns about Lennox's age to him?"
Evangeline winced. "Unwisely."
"What did he say to you?"
"What I suspect you're going to say to me as well."
"I'm not going to rebuke you, Evangeline," Elsa said. "And I don't need to remind you of your duty." She gave the woman a small smile. "I need you to keep my sister safe."
Evangeline nodded. "I shall." And with that, Evangeline mounted her great black destrier and rode it away. At the head of the column, Kristoff angled a long lantern pole on his sleigh so that it illuminated the ground in front of Sven's head. Elsa was glad he had agreed to go with them. Anna would need him in the coming weeks, even if they were both reluctant to admit it.
Evangeline gave the order to depart, dug her heels into her horse's sides and set off at a canter. The rest of the company followed. They were vanished within moments, riding through the palace gates and across the long bridge leading into the city.
It was only when the portcullis closed behind them did Elsa allow her tears to fall.
#
Elsa slept fitfully that night.
Her dreams were filled with bloody images, of severed heads gaping uselessly at her through maggot-ridden eyes. When she was awake, she looked at the pendulum clock and tried to imagine where Anna and her party were. They would doubtlessly be making their way east through the woods now, before turning south towards the border. They'd charter a boat from Dorter to the Southern Isles and then continue onto Corona, where Anna would be safe.
When the clock chimed gently at an hour past midnight, Elsa rose from her bed, wrapped her dressing gown around her shoulders and crept out of her chambers. The palace slept soundly, and Elsa did not encounter a single soul on her journey down the darkened halls. Not until she came down the stairs and onto the third floor.
She paused and tilted her head. The door to Ser Lennox's chamber was ajar. Firelight gleamed invitingly from within, and Elsa could hear the soft sound of a whetstone running against a blade. Hesitantly at first, and then with more confidence, Elsa approached the crack in the door and knocked.
"You should be asleep," Lennox said when he opened the door and saw her standing there. He had removed his armour, which rested on the rack just inside the chamber. His long boots were unlaced and turned down at the ankle, and his shirt-sleeved were rolled to the elbow, revealing a pair of powerful forearms dusted with grey hairs.
"So should you," Elsa replied as she slipped inside. At Lennox's invitation she sat down on a worn armchair by the fire.
"Sleep always eludes me before a fight," replied Lennox. "Having a routine like this helps ease the mind." He nodded at his sword and whetstone resting on the little table but did not take them up again.
"Are you frightened?" Elsa asked, then winced. She didn't mean it to sound like a snub. "I mean. . ."
"I know what you meant," Lennox said kindly. "But yes, I am frightened. Only a fool wouldn't be frightened when faced with a day like tomorrow. Your kingdom rests on my shoulders and I haven't seen a proper fight in twenty years."
"But then. . ."
"You're thinking of Evangeline's request?" Lennox asked, eyes twinkling.
"I . . . I was."
"She's too young to have ever fought in anything more serious than a tourney. She is capable, I'll admit. Perhaps she's even good enough to make Rickard Ashaela sweat, and he's the best anyone has ever seen."
"You seem to know a lot about him," Elsa said. The man certainly didn't look so intimidating to her, but the soldiers who had escorted him to into the palace certainly seemed overly cautious around him.
"It pays to be knowledgeable about your enemy's champions," Lennox said. "Removing Rickard from the duel was a clever move, but it has added an element of uncertainty to the equation."
"How so?"
"Well, before I was certain that Rickard would be elected at Maximilian's champions. I consider myself a talented fighter, but if half of what's said about Rickard is true then he would have cut through me like he was carving a cake. Now Maximilian needs to find a new champion to duel for him, and I can't say who it could be."
"I wonder if his champion is afraid," Elsa said.
"I can only hope he's the most cowardly soldier in the army."
Elsa smiled and rested her head back on the armchair. She looked at Lennox through lidded eyes. "You know so much about the Ovelian lords," she said.
"That's because I've met most of them before," replied Lennox.
"Oh?" Elsa said, surprised.
"In the dying days of the Hundred Year War," said Lennox. "Your father and I travelled to Corona where a great tournament was held. Lords from all over Arendelle, Corona, Ovelia, and the Isles travelled to compete. Everyone was excited, for it was the first tournament of its kind in decades. Secretly though, the tournament was a mere ruse, concocted so that the monarchs of the four nations could meet. There hadn't been a proper battle in years, and we were all weary."
"Secret meetings?" Elsa teased. "How scandalous!"
Lennox snorted and continued. "King Meridas ruled over Ovelia then. He was a worthy man who spent much of his reign bridging gaps and soothing old wounds. He brought his sons with him to the tournament. Maximilian was the youngest, and still on his mother's breast. The lords of the great Ovelian houses came to the tournament too, and I had the chance to speak with each of them several times.
"What was he like as a child?" Elsa asked.
"Who, Maximilian?" When Elsa nodded, Lennox thought for a moment, then said. "I don't know, truly. He was the thirdborn son of a king still in his prime! No one ever thought he'd one day ascend to the throne."
"Hmm," Elsa murmured. "So, what happened during these secret tournament meetings? What was the topic of discussion?"
"Did you father never speak to you about it?"
Elsa shrugged. "No. Not that I can remember."
"That's surprising."
Intrigued, Elsa sat up in the chair. "How so?"
"The dealings concerned you. And Maximilian. And most of the children of all the gathered lords. The surest way to secure allegiances is through marriage, and we were all determined to ensure that a war like the one we had experienced would never happened again. Much of the discussion centered on who would marry who, and who would travel where when they came of age. I believe you and Maximilian were betrothed for a time. If everything had gone to plan, he would likely be your prince consort and be ruling Arendelle at your side.
The idea sickened Elsa. "But these plans fell apart?"
"One after another, through unfortunate event after unfortunate event. . ." Lennox's face took on a thoughtful look. "King Frederic's daughter was born not long after the end of the war, but the young princess was kidnapped from her cradle while the king and queen slept. She wouldn't be seen again for years. Your father also withdrew from the pact, after it became clear that you had been born with sorcery and were no longer a . . . suitable match.
"Perhaps the pact could have been salvaged when Princess Anna was born, or if the Queen of Corona bore another heir, but Ovelia and Corona became locked in separate wars against banditry. After one hundred years of war, many men knew nothing but swords and fighting. They were not content to farm, or learn a trade, and even those who were discovered that desiring to do something peaceful didn't mean they could do so. Thousands of men took up arms again, organised into clans that raided villages and towns. King Frederic grieved the loss of his daughter and was not the king Corona needed during such a tumultuous time. The woods and forests of Corona are still filled with bandits and mercenaries, so I understand."
"What about Ovelia?" Elsa asked.
"King Meridas refused to allow such banditry in his kingdom. For a decade after the war with Corona, the lords of Ovelia hunted down the bandit clans. They did not take them seriously at first, but then a clan led by the outlaw named the Goldfinch raided Lion's Peak, the Beoulve's ancestral home. The war against the bandits did not end in Ovelia until Rickard Ashaela killed the Goldfinch's champion in single combat."
"I've heard stories about the Goldfinch," Elsa said.
"I'm not surprised. She became something of a folk hero, as she only stole from the rich, never the poor."
"What happened to her?"
"No one knows for certain. She wasn't captured or killed. The bards say she disappeared into the depths of the forests, mourning the loss of her champion." Lennox sighed tiredly. "And not long after that, King Meridas was murdered by House Cressida - his eldest son along with him. And I'm sure you know what happened then."
She did. "And now here we are."
"And now here we are," Lennox agreed with a heavy sigh. "This is not the path your father wanted for you, but if he could see the woman you have turned out to be. . ."
"I don't know. . ." said Elsa. She'd been thinking about her father more and more lately.
"You should return to bed, my queen," Lennox told her. "Tomorrow will not be an easy day."
"I will soon," replied Elsa, as she closed her eyes again. "For now, please keep talking to me."
"As you wish," Ser Lennox replied softly.
#
The scouts said the Ovelians waited in the distance. Their ships still clogged the fjord, but they had been emptied as soon as the storm vanished from the skies above Arendelle. According to one harried looking man on horseback, there were ten-thousand soldiers who stood in their battle formations beyond Elsa's gigantic ice wall, spread across the frozen waters like a tide of blood.
However, only a pair of Ovelians had dared to come through the gap Elsa had opened the previous day. Elsa watched the pair from the shadows of the city gates, surrounded by guards who had been with her when the scouts delivered their report. Elsa recognized King Maximilian's regal figure immediately, but the man with him wore a ceremonial helmet which hid his face.
Lennox came down the steps from the upper wall, tugging on checking the straps on his armour. "It's tighter than I remember," the man grumbled when Elsa came to him. "I haven't worn full plate in twenty years!"
"You make a resplendent figure," Elsa said to him.
Lennox snorted. "It's out of fashion, by today's standards. Duelists in the south prefer much lighter armor."
"How come?"
"So they can move with less restrictions. The spectators care more for the show than the actual result. This armour may weigh me down, but their champion will struggle to pierce it."
"I see."
Lennox finished checking his armour, then loosened his sword in its scabbard. "I'm ready."
"I'm going out there with you," said Elsa.
"No, you must remain here, where it's safe."
"Maximilian is out there with his champion. You're mistaken if you think I'll do anything less than him."
Lennox rather wisely decided not to argue further. He smiled at her. "Very well. Let's not keep this Ovelian champion waiting."
The sunlight glinted off Lennox's armour as he and Elsa left the safety of the city walls and walked out onto the still-frozen fjord beyond. The snow had long since melted, but the ice was smooth and hard. Maximilian and his champion turned to face them as they approached. Maximilian wore a black coat with silver scrolls stitched on the collar and sleeves. His champion was armoured as Lennox had predicted. His chest was covered by a silvery breastplate adorned with an intricate etching of Ovelia's golden griffon. The man's arms were bare from shoulder to elbow, revealing muscled arms tanned from the sun. His forearms were protected by steel vambraces decorated with golden lions, with matching grieves from knee to ankle. His helmet was shaped like a lion's roaring head, hiding the face in its shadow.
"Queen Elsa," Maximilian greeted them happily. "Is this not a beautiful morning?"
It was too much for Elsa. "Spare me your pleasantries," she said.
Maximilian's smile became cold. "Then speak your final words to your champion."
Lennox turned to Elsa and said in a low voice so the two Ovelians couldn't hear. "Do not fear, my queen." He took her hand and bent his head to kiss it. "This is what I want." He straightened, then faced Ovelia's champion.
Elsa heard Lennox hiss with distaste. She followed his gaze and scowled.
Aedan, Maximilian's smart-mouthed herald, had removed that gaudy lion's helmet and placed it in Maximilian's arms. He smiled at Elsa, looking infinitely more rested and healthier than he had the last time Elsa saw him.
Maximilian placed his hand on Aedan's shoulder, and Elsa heard the king's final words to his champion. "They say you shouldn't be wearing that armor," his voice was low and serious. "I say they're wrong. Show them your worth, Lion of Beoulve." Then he strode away, Aedan's helmet still tucked under his arm. Aedan did not reply to him.
"This is a farce," Lennox scoffed.
"Come back to me, Ser Lennox," Elsa told him as she too departed.
"I will," he promised.
#
Lennox watched Elsa leave and allowed himself to embrace the tender swell of pride in his heart. She would make a fine queen – better than her parents or her grandparents.
Then the herald's voice dragged him from his thoughts. "It's time to look away from your pretty queen and turn your attention upon me."
Lennox clenched his jaw and glared at the arrogant spit of a boy standing on the soaked grass not ten paces away. He pushed away the bubble of rage in his gut and the swell of love for his queen in his breast, instead he sought the cold, emotionless comfort of void. "Draw your sword, you unlicked chur," he said, voice taut.
Aedan smirked and did so. "I hoped I'd be fighting you." He held his sword to the sun, like he was inspecting it for a tiny blemish, and then flung his scabbard away.
Lennox pulled his silver-worked straight-sword from its sheathe and did the same. The pale blade hummed as he flourished it.
"So that's Whisper?" Aedan asked admiringly. "I've never seen a sword like it."
"Feast your eyes for as long as you'd like," Lennox said.
"I shall, once I take it from your corpse."
"You dishonor yourself, boy."
That made Aedan snort with laughter. "When you're bleeding out on the ice after failing your queen, you could ask the Almighty if your honor mattered."
With a deep breath, Lennox walked forward, sword held ready.
The Ovelian came to meet him, moving as meeting Lennox for a dance. Their swords met like a hammer smashing on an anvil.
From the first strike it was clear to Lennox that the Ovelian was only testing him, pushing him hard enough to see what he could do, and then pushing a little harder still. The Ovelian had quick wrists and quicker feet, which served him far better than the sword-skill he demonstrated to Lennox in those opening clashes. With his heavy chainmail and steel armor Lennox felt like he was always half-a-heartbeat behind.
If I don't take control of this duel now. . . Stepping forward into Aedan's next strike, Lennox caught the blow on his sword's crossguard and pushed it to the side. A flurry of blows followed, each designed to throw his enemy off balance rather than strike a true blow. But the Ovelian was swift, and turned the blows aside with his sword, using Lennox's own momentum to his advantage.
Slash.
The Ovelian pushed the stroke aside, allowing Lennox's momentum to carry his forward.
Slash.
A quick backstep followed, and he narrowly avoided having his head removed.
Slash.
A savage strike from the Ovelian smashed Lennox's sword away. A spike of adrenaline tore through Lennox, as Aedan's savage parry revealed a gap in his guard. Lennox feinted left, drawing his sword back as if to continue his wide sweeping attacks. Then he stepped close and drove his sword forward. A thrust like that would tear through a thin breastplate like it was made of warm butter.
His sword passed harmlessly though the gap between Aedan's arm and torso. Then Lennox's nose exploded in pain. He staggered back, sweeping his sword in a wide arc, forcing the Ovelian to leap back and abandon his assault or else risk taking a hit. Irritation flashed across Aedan's face, quickly replaced once more with determination.
Sweat slid down Lennox's face, mingling with the blood dripping from his nose. He wiped it away with the palm of his gloved hand and spat.
Then the Ovelian charged forward once more, delivering a flurry of slashes that pushed and prodded until Lennox was the one giving ground before the onslaught. Aedan's arms rose and Lennox raised his high to block the overhand blow. In an instant, he realized his mistake and tried to twist away.
Aedan slipped under Lennox's guard and stabbed forward with all his weight behind it. The sword struck Lennox's breastplate and slipped to the side, driving a deep scar in the metal from sternum to rib. The sound reverberated through Lennox's ears, syncing perfectly with his furious heartbeat.
Aedan came forward in pursuit, driving Lennox back heavy strikes. The younger man moved fluidly, one strike leading into the next so seamlessly it was all Lennox could do to keep the sword away.
He waited and watched Aedan's face as well as his sword.
Sweat beaded across Aedan's forehead, making his hair stick to his scalp. His nostril's flared with the effort from every blow.
Then they didn't.
Lennox held his parry for the briefest second and watched Aedan's sword slow and turn.
He stepped forward, ducked under Aedan's blow and lashed out with his sword. Aedan twisted, his poise vanishing as he tried to wrench his body out of the way, but it was far too late. Lennox's sword did not slip. It bit deeply into Aedan's side, scored through the breastplate, and dug deep into flesh and cracking bone. Aedan lost his feet as the strike's follow-through sent him to the ground, screaming in pain. Dark blood stained the grass.
A dull roar rose from the Arendellian soldiers in the city, somehow rumbling over the heady pounding in Lennox's ears. A shout of triumph built in his throat, and he advanced to Aedan, who tried to scramble towards the sword he had dropped.
Lennox kicked the sword away.
He walked around Aedan in a wide circle, changing his grip on his sword until the white blade was pointing towards the ground.
Aedan swore with a soft, pained groan and straightened until he was kneeling on the blood-soaked ice. Lennox placed his sword tip against the back of Aedan's neck. He was breathing heavily, shaking from pain and exhaustion.
Lennox raised the blade high.
Aedan moved suddenly, faster than Lennox could have possibly imagined for someone with that wound. A glint of red sparkled against the sunlight, followed by an eruption of pain deep within Lennox's inner thigh. His strength fled his leg, and it crumbled under his weight. Blood spurted in great streams in perfect synch with his beating heart.
Not like this! He jabbed his sword wildly, hoping to end the fight before he fell, but Aedan was already out of the way, diving towards his sword.
Sword freshly in hand, Aedan struggled to his feet. His other hand was crimson with blood as he desperately tried to staunch the wound Lennox had struck. His face was a twisted, grotesque caricature, lips curled back and teeth bared as they ground together.
Lennox swung his sword in a wild swing, aiming a cut at Aedan's ankles, but Aedan parried it with a flick of his sword, then lunged forward to stab through Lennox's hand. Lennox's sword fell from twitching fingers, and he gasped with the fresh, sudden pain.
"You may have killed me yet," Aedan snarled, pausing to glance at the slash on his side. His fingers were drenched with blood and slipped over the slick metal breastplate.
"One can only hope," Lennox grunted. Black spots crossed his vision, and he struggled to keep his eyes open.
Aedan stepped forward and kicked Lennox as hard as he could. Lennox tried to move out of the way, but his leg refused to move. He hit the ground so heavily it knocked the air from his lungs.
And then Aedan was behind him, grabbing him by his hair and pulled him back to his knees. "Look at your queen!" Aedan hissed at him, forcing him around until he could see Elsa.
He saw Elsa in the shadow of the city walls. Her hands covered her mouth, and her eyes were wide open in horror. In that moment, Lennox thought he saw her clearly – maybe for the first time. She looked so beautiful.
Aedan's sword glinted with sunlight as it fell.
#
A horrified numbness spread through Elsa's body. Aedan's sword struck the crook of Lennox's neck, spraying dark blood across the grass and down Lennox's breastplate. The second strike severed Lennox's head from his shoulders.
Her knees bumped together and threatened to buckle. NO! On the blood-soaked dueling ground, Aedan kicked Lennox's headless body to the ground, turned and raised his sword in the direction of the gap. He didn't stay upright for long. His sword fell from shaking fingers, and his body soon followed as he collapsed onto the ground beside Lennox's body.
In the distance, King Maximilian had mounted a horse and galloped towards his fallen champion.
I could end it all. The thought came unbidden, but a shocking fury consumed Elsa before she could reign it in. She drew herself to her full height and swept the ice and moisture from the air into her hands.
He killed him. . .
He killed him!
Hadn't this always been a possibility? In all her imaginings she had never pictured Lennox failing! He had been so confident, so sure of himself, sure that he would be the one to emerge victorious from this fight. Hadn't she taken away the best fighter in the Ovelian army? Hadn't she? What more could she have done to help him!
"Close the gates!" Elsa heard someone shout from atop the wall. She ignored the command and walked forward. One of her guards tried to draw her back, but the raw magic surrounding her threw him away. She was full to bursting, and she had to find somewhere to put it all.
She swept her hands up and poured her magic into the hole in her wall. Ovelian soldiers – likely Maximilian's guards, poured through, heedless of the misty haze filling the gap. Then it froze, as solid and seamless as the rest of the wall surrounding the city. Elsa could hear men's screams, but she hardened her heart and looked towards the man she truly hated.
Maximilian had flung himself from his horse and was kneeling next to Aedan. He'd pulled off his coat and was using it to try to staunch the blood pulsing out of his champion's wound. That might have struck Elsa as odd, if the euphoric drum of her magic wasn't consuming her sense and reason.
She pointed her hand at Maximilian and formed an icicle in her fingers. Long like a spear and wickedly pointed, Elsa flung it forward.
Maximilian's looked up at the last moment, his eyes widening. It was far too late for him to get out of the way.
The icicle turned to dust which harmlessly struck Maximilian's chest.
Shock struck Elsa dumb. How?! Even Maximilian seemed astonished. He fell backwards, staring down at his chest like he expected to see Elsa's spear there instead of the pale dust covering his shoulders and hair.
Then a rumbling filled the air. It sounded like an avalanche thundering down a mountain, sweeping up everyone and everything in its path. Elsa's grip on her magic faltered as she looked around.
Her wall groaned, then vanished in a cloud of dust just like her spear had.
That's . . . that's impossible.
Bursting roars of thunder sounded from the fjord. Elsa whirled around just in time to see houses and bricks from inside the city burst apart. Agonized screams and cries of fright followed.
"Your Majesty!" Her personal guard had followed her beyond the wall. One of them forced himself in front of her, shouting to be heard over all the noise. "The warships have turned their cannons on the city!"
Face twisting, Elsa reached for her magic once more, intent on railing all manner of icy fury on the Ovelian warships, but as she stretched out to grasp it, she felt it slither away, as though someone else had taken hold and was dangling it just out of reach.
"Oh, God," another of the soldiers said. "Look at them all!"
The Ovelian army, now unrestrained by the wall's destruction, marched forward in a red tide. A company of cavalry closed the distance faster than the rest, streaking towards Maximilian and Aedan. Desperate now, Elsa dove for her magic, and though it tried to snake away again, she managed to hook it with her fingertip. It filled her once more.
The Ovelian cavalry bypassed Maximilian, who stood and pointed towards Elsa. They were coming too quickly for Elsa and her guards to retreat into the city's safety, their horses ate up the ground in seconds.
Crying out, Elsa flung her magic forward. Icicles sprung from the ground, pointing towards the horsemen like a wall of pikes and spears.
"Do not falter!" cried a woman's voice from within in the cavalry line.
Like the wall, and the spear that should have killed Maximilian, the palisade of icicles shimmered and collapsed, just as the line of cavalry were about to impale themselves upon it. Then the Ovelians were upon them, spears jabbing and swords flailing as they sought to cut through Elsa's guard to get to her.
Elsa saw her men trampled around her, bones broken and bloodied. Those who remained standing were quickly cut down. Elsa flung ice at every red speck she saw, and although some of them hit and flung red-cloaked soldiers out of their saddles, most turned to dust or mist.
A red cloaked soldier tackled her from behind, driving the wind out of her lungs.
"Take her hands," the woman's voice commanded. "Hold them still!"
Elsa screamed and flailed as rough hands dragged her to her knees. A woman dressed entirely in black – the one who had watched her from the depths of Maximilian's pavilion the day before – slid off her horse and stood before Elsa. All the soldiers holding her grimaced, their hands and forearms reddening from the immense cold emanating from Elsa's body.
The woman's crimson eyes gleamed like blood. She grabbed hold of Elsa's wrists, and Elsa felt her magic drain from her. It poured out, sucked into a vortex of swirling energy around this woman that no one else seemed able to see. Pain exploded in Elsa's arms and ricocheted through her body. She tried to scream, but only a twisted, pathetic sound croaked out.
Eyes blank, Elsa collapsed. Only the Ovelian soldier's grasp on her body stopped her from hitting the ground. Darkness filled her, surrounding mocking red eyes in a haze of burning pain.