“Haven’t you wondered,” Elma said, parrying a heavy overhead blow from her uncle, ice scattering from where the blades met, “why I’m able to use Rime Ice even though you took my crown?” She had no answer for this but hoped the question might throw Godwin off balance, cause him to doubt. On the contrary, her uncle only laughed, easily parrying Elma’s next attack. “How should I know what capricious rules this magic abides by? As long as you’re dead, it hardly matters to me.”
