The Cold Star

Maela stared out into the dark, snow-flakes fluttering to the ground, like petals from a tree, sticking to her eyelashes, clinging to her hair. She had long since lost all feeling in her feet, but she didn't care. He had told her to wait for him, and that was what she was going to do.
She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder, and slowly turned around.
"What."
"We should be getting back now." said the soldier, teeth chattering in the freezing cold air, his warrior helmet clinking on his chainmail.
"No." She turned around, drawing her furs tighter around her, with cold stiff hands.
"If we don't, we won't get back to the castle before the storm breaks, and we will surley die in the snow-storms!"
Maela turned to him, tears glistening in her eyes.
"He said he'd come, Khodraam! He said he'd come!"
The great man enveloped the girl in his arms, and carried her crying back to the wagon. Climbing onto the horses, he clicked his tongue, and the horses started.

* * * * * *

Maela awoke in a warm, musty place, something tickling her nose. She sat up, and immediately wished she hadn't.
"YIAAAAAY!"
Her limbs were on fire. They were prickling as if a thousand needles had been planted into her skin! She heard a match being struck, and light blossomed from a candle.
She was in her room, at the fortress, in her bed, next to her sister.
"Maela?", murmered her sister, still half asleep. "Your back?!" Siberianna hugged her younger sister. "I can't beleive it! They all said that you and the troop had perished in the snow-storms! I was given a sleeping-draught, becayuse I wouldn't go to sleep. Well, did Fa come? Did-" She stopped at the look on Maela's face.
"He didn't come, did he?" she murmured. In one movment, she turned around, and slid under the covers. Maela could hear her sobs through the fur cover, but did nothing to console her. She felt empty. Her father had disappeared, and he was never coming back. She was alone, her and Siberianna, in a world of snow, ice, and cold. Suddenly, she resented Khodraam for taking her back. She would have died, and then she wouldn't have to bother about fighting day in, day out, making decisions that involved people's lives at risks, wouldn't have to look after all her father's people, his kingdom. HIS responsability. Not that of a fifteen year old's.
She would never fogive him for leaving them alone, throwing it in their faces, and going away. He didn't care, so why should she?
A knock on the door made her jump.
"Who is it?"
Khodraam came in.
"Your highnesses, I have awful news."
Maela waited, with baited breath...
"Your father, the king, is dead."