Excerpt: Frostrøyk

Tiriana was sitting on a throne of ice in the deserted audience hall. She was only twenty-four years, but her face already had that majestic touch.. Her facial features were smooth, as if she had not smiled a lot. The shape of her face was long and rectangular and her cheekbones distinct. Her eyes, a shade of yellowy brown, were framed by a set of long, light lashes. It seemed as though she was freezing despite the fur she was dressed in. She was trembling and her skin was unnaturally pale - even paler than the common glanticer. She was constantly moving the large hail balls in her necklace around. They almost blended with her skin, though they were more golden than blue. An icy blue braid hung over her shoulder. She startled when someone entered the room, but smiled when she saw who it was.
“Canót, finally! Has the messenger come?” The serious expression returned to her face, as if she had remembered the last days of waiting.
“I’m so sorry, Tiriana. The news are worse than expected. The watchmen have neither seen your brother, nor any of those who went with him to fight the trolls. The messenger also said the Silépass is closed. He can’t come here until spring.” Canót avoided telling her what he suspected. She had to come to her own conclusion on this matter. But when he looked her in the eyes, he didn’t see what he had expected – grief. No, he thought he had seen a glimpse of something else. Triumph. It could not be right. He was her brother.