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Nightblood Elly Blake Compactado
Nightblood Elly Blake Compactado
1. COVER
2. TITLE PAGE
3. COPYRIGHT
4. DEDICATION
5. PART ONE
6. ONE
7. TWO
8. THREE
9. FOUR
10. FIVE
11. SIX
12. SEVEN
13. EIGHT
14. NINE
15. TEN
16. ELEVEN
17. TWELVE
18. THIRTEEN
19. FOURTEEN
20. FIFTEEN
21. SIXTEEN
22. SEVENTEEN
23. PART TWO
24. EIGHTEEN
25. NINETEEN
26. TWENTY
27. TWENTY-ONE
28. TWENTY-TWO
29. TWENTY-THREE
30. TWENTY-FOUR
31. TWENTY-FIVE
32. TWENTY-SIX
33. TWENTY-SEVEN
34. TWENTY-EIGHT
35. TWENTY-NINE
36. THIRTY
37. THIRTY-ONE
A SHOUT OF “LAND HO!” RANG FROM the crow’s nest. Frostblood sailors
rushed to the rail and scurried into the rigging, eager for their first glimpse
of home in months.
Nervous warmth coursed through my veins, heating the brass rail
beneath my palms. The voyage had cost us time, preventing us from doing
anything more active than reading and planning. Soon we would find out if
the book held the secrets we needed.
The next few hours passed in a flurry of activity. As the Tempesian
half of the crew carried out their tasks with laughter and snatches of song,
the Sudesians eyed the gray cliffs with distrust. This white-cloaked
kingdom topped with drab pewter skies was the place where so many of
their own had been murdered by the previous Frost King. It would take
more than the death of that king and a few brief months for them to feel
safe here.
My thoughts were equally torn.
Sudesia, with its tropical clime and vibrant colors, had felt like a warm
embrace to my Fireblood spirit. And yet, Tempesia’s snowy peaks and icy
mists had the pull of deep familiarity.
Its people, however, could be colder than its northern reaches. With a
few exceptions, I had little use for Frostbloods.
“Your expression is very grave,” said the most notable exception.
Breath as cold as an arctic wind tickled my ear. “Not looking forward to
winter in the north?”
I leaned back against him and echoed his wry tone. “It’s more that I
dread spending another winter with Frostbloods.” I gestured landward.
“And there’s a whole kingdom of them.”
Arcus chuckled, his large hands coming to rest on my shoulders. “I’ve
heard you have a history of handling those Frostbloods with great skill.
Particularly their king.”
He smoothed my hair to the side and a cold kiss fell on the nape of my
neck, making a delicious shudder run through me, top to tail. I turned with a
smile and caught a flash of intense blue eyes before his lips met mine softly,
sending another thrill along my spine.
I pulled back to murmur, “Their king seems intent on handling me.”
His chest rumbled with a laugh, and I grinned.
His fingers came to rest on my neck as his lips slid up to my temple.
“You can’t blame him. You’re very touchable.”
I enjoyed his clean scent, his strength and steadiness, and snuggled
closer, drawing his arms tighter around me. For the first time since my
nightmare, I felt safe.
He rested his chin on my head, inhaling deeply. “You smell so good,”
he said in a low, soft voice. “I could stand here and breathe you in all day.”
I tucked my cheek against his chest. “You smell like mint. I wonder if
you taste as good.”
“All right, Lady Firebrand, we need to change the subject or the crew
is going to blush as I bend you back over my arm and kiss you senseless.”
I knew he wanted to, just as I knew that he wouldn’t. Though he
sometimes kissed me on deck, he was reserved about it. Even when we
were alone, it hadn’t gone much further. Every night, he’d left me at my
cabin door with a mere kiss.
“Promises, promises.”
He made a sound low in his throat, his eyes heating. “Stop it. Now, tell
me what you were really thinking about.”
I looked over my shoulder at the gray cliffs. “Aside from the obvious?
I’m wondering what we’ll find when we reach the capital. The Frost Court
left alone for nearly three months…”
He was silent for a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever has happened,
we’ll deal with it.”
I peered up at him, not trusting he was as calm as he sounded.
“Doesn’t this go against the Frostblood code that tells you to plan carefully
for any contingency?”
His eyes crinkled at the edges. “That may be the Frostblood code, but a
certain Fireblood has taught me to live in the present. Right now, that
includes enjoying the last few hours of peace on this ship.”
As if on cue, the Frostbloods erupted in the ribald shanty they always
sang as we neared land, extolling the rewards of shore leave.
I lifted a brow at Arcus. “Peace?”
“Relative peace.” His eyes softened like melting ice. “I’ll take what I
can get.”
I reached up to brush a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead,
and he leaned subtly into my touch. I tilted my face up, inviting.
Our lips had just brushed when Kai’s voice interrupted. “How
thoughtful of you to put on a final show for the crew.”
Arcus’s arms constricted, pulling me closer. He always acted as if the
Fireblood prince were waiting to snatch me away at the first opportunity.
Kai leaned against the rail with his signature indolent grace. His wine-
red doublet and fiery hair—bleached more golden by the weeks of sun—
were the only spots of color in a gray landscape.
“I suppose it’s cold enough to justify some cuddling,” he said, as if
generously granting a request. “Though a Frostblood isn’t the logical choice
if you’re looking for warmth, Ruby.”
His eyes held only the usual level of sensual promise typical of him,
but Arcus reacted with a frostbitten stare.
“Watch yourself, princeling.”
“Even a Fireblood princess craves warmth sometimes,” Kai taunted
with a slow grin.
Arcus’s nostrils flared. “Did you need something?”
“We’ll land soon.” Kai gestured to shore with a lift of his chin. “Just
checking our plans haven’t changed.”
“Same as before,” I said. “We take the book to Brother Thistle. He
finds and translates directions to the Gate of Light. We go there and make
sure it stays closed so no Minax can escape. Simple.”
“Yes, that’s all very simple,” he said with an eye roll. “I hope you’re
right about that book.”
“I am,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
The Fireblood masters accompanying us had been translating The
Creation of the Thrones from ancient Sudesian, but they’d found no
mention of the Gate’s location. However, they’d told us there were some
passages in ancient Ventian—a dead language purported to be the root of
both Tempesian and Sudesian, but which none of us could translate. I was
sure Brother Thistle could.
“We must be realistic,” Kai said. “The book may not contain clear
directions, in which case a search will be necessary.” He cleared his throat.
“And at the risk of starting another argument, we must talk about how to
secure ships to help us in our search. You’ve made it clear you need the
Frost Court’s approval to deploy your navy.”
Arcus’s eyes held a warning. “That’s what our laws require, yes.”
“And for them to agree, the Frost Court must be convinced of the
danger. Therefore, we need to show them proof the Minax exists.”
“You will not use Ruby to give them proof,” Arcus said with narrowed
eyes.
“I don’t need your permission,” I added quietly.
He turned to me, his tone somewhere between commanding and
begging me to see reason. “Either you could lose control of the creature and
it could find another host, leaving it free to wreak carnage like the frost
Minax did. Or you could lose control and hurt someone. Either way, the risk
is too great.”
My jaw tightened. “I notice both of those scenarios involve me losing
control.”
Kai straightened, an intense look in his golden-brown eyes. “If she
allowed it to partially possess a few key members of your court, just so they
could see how powerful—”
“No,” Arcus said, instant and emphatic, blocking the argument the way
he’d block an attack.
“I’ve been able to control it throughout the voyage,” I reminded him
with growing irritation.
“Or it has chosen to remain dormant to lull you into a false sense of
security.”
That possibility had occurred to me, too, but he didn’t need to know
that. “Your faith in me is flattering.”
“It’s not lack of faith in you. It’s simple caution. Do you deny that I
could be right?”
Kai’s jaw moved as if his teeth were grinding together. “Listen, you
stubborn…” He pressed his lips together. “They need to see this to believe
it.”
Arcus dropped his arms from around me and used his extra inches of
height to loom over Kai. “No.”
Kai stood his ground, heat flowing from him in waves. “Then how do
you plan to convince your court?”
“I am their king. I don’t need to convince them.”
I sighed, pushing between them. “You know it’s not that simple. Your
connection with me has made people distrustful. And your recent alliance
with Firebloods won’t win you favor with some.”
Arcus took a breath and spoke with firm conviction. “You are the
crown princess of Sudesia, heir to the fire throne. And the prince here is
now the queen’s official emissary. Those things carry weight. They’ll know
I’ve built trust with our enemy.”
Kai snorted angrily, and Arcus said, “I’m not calling you an enemy.
I’m stating how the court sees it. Now that we have a signed treaty with the
Fire Queen, that will gain my court’s full attention.”
“Weren’t you nearly assassinated by your own court? Twice?”
“Kai!” I shook my head at him. It wasn’t fair to bring up the most
traumatic episode of Arcus’s life. The first assassination attempt had burned
him and left him with scars.
“I thought we were stating unpleasant truths,” Kai countered without
remorse.
“You won’t speak of that,” I said, low and fierce.
Arcus took my hands and squeezed them. “It’s all right, Ruby.” He
addressed his next comment to Kai. “I’m convinced the Blue Legion was
behind both attacks. They will have to be discovered and routed.”
“I’m relieved to hear you concede that, at least,” Kai replied. He
looked up to where sailors were adjusting the sails for our arrival. “I have
things to do.” He strode off toward the quarterdeck.
I moved next to Arcus, watching his stiff back and white-knuckled grip
on the rail. Frost spread, melting as it touched my hand, a sign that he was
losing control of his emotions. He huffed out a breath. “Every instinct is
telling me to send you off somewhere safe and to fix all this myself.”
“Even if you could ‘fix this’ without me—which you can’t—I won’t
be pushed aside. Kai and I are your allies. Our opinions deserve your full
consideration.”
He turned to me, his brows lowered. “I listen to you. I take everything
you say seriously.”
“And Kai? Do you listen to him?”
His expression closed off. “Not if I can help it.”
“That’s a problem. At least trust that Kai is on our side and behave
accordingly. I’m tired of watching you trying to goad each other into
fisticuffs.”
His mouth twitched up on one side. “Is it that obvious?”
“It’s obviously unnecessary, and I don’t want either of you to get hurt.
Not him, whom I love like a brother, and—”
Arcus made a disgruntled noise. “I saw you kiss him, remember? Not
like a brother.”
“Fine. Like a good friend who won’t ever be more because I’m already
madly… attached… to someone else.”
The word love wouldn’t come to my lips. It felt like tempting the gods
to express that emotion, as if Tempus himself would swoop in and snatch
Arcus away from me for daring to voice it.
“So you love him,” Arcus said in a low voice, “and are attached to
me.”
“That’s not what I meant. Don’t read into things. I’ve made it clear
how I feel. Kai sees it. The entire ship sees it. Why don’t you?”
His mouth twisted, his eyes the color of a winter sea. “I never thought
I’d be the jealous sort, and yet I often have the urge to throw him
overboard.”
“He flirts with everyone, not just me.”
After a thoughtful pause, he conceded, “I suppose that is true. I will try
not to smash his pretty mouth in when he directs his charm at you.”
“No smashing or you’ll answer to me.”
His mouth quirked up at one corner. “In that case, I am all
compliance.”
“Just the way I like you.”
He huffed a laugh and pulled me into a tight embrace. “No doubt.”
I relaxed in his arms, lifting my face to the breeze. Land filled the
skyline, the seagulls screaming like tortured spirits as we neared shore.
From now on, time would move faster, and our race to defeat Eurus had to
be the first and only concern.
It felt as if an hourglass had been turned over, the sands beginning to
fall.
THREE
Once Kai had maneuvered the ship to a berth in the near-empty harbor,
the anchor was dropped and a gangplank lowered. Arcus and I
disembarked, along with the Fireblood masters and a contingent of
Frostblood sailors. Kai stayed behind to keep the ship ready to sail if
necessary.
A short sword hung at my hip, hidden under a long cloak. Arcus wore
a similar cloak, the hood drawn up to cast his face in shadow.
A crowd of people clustered on the wharf. They moved slowly forward
en masse like a flock of curious gulls. As we neared, the stench of so many
bodies together—along with that of dead fish, rot, and waste—was
overpowering.
Some of them must have recognized their king. They gasped and
whispered, and then bowed at the waist or knelt. Arcus’s head turned slowly
as he took in the assembly, doubtless noting the same things I did: They
were all thin to the point of gauntness, their clothing in poor condition.
Many of them shivered visibly, a sign that they were not Frostbloods, or at
least had weakened or insignificant gifts.
They carried packs and satchels and stared at the ship with exhausted,
pleading eyes as if it was their last hope.
Arcus called out, “Who is in charge here?”
Hands pointed toward a squat stone building between the main street
and the wharf. A Blue Legion standard flapped from its roof. Two soldiers
in full armor lounged on either side of the door. Unlike the crowd, they
looked sleek and well fed.
The crowd parted as Arcus moved toward the building, waiting
patiently when some of them needed help to get up from their kneeling
position. A young woman who looked to be in the late stages of pregnancy
had remained standing. She lifted her bowed head as I passed, her whole
body shaking with cold.
On impulse, I untied my cloak and gave it to her. Her hand closed over
the fabric reflexively. At my encouraging nod, she pulled the cloak over her
shoulders with an expression of relief.
As I moved away, she grabbed my sleeve. “Is your ship taking
passengers?” she asked, letting go as I turned to face her. The expectant
look in her brown eyes made me wish I could give her the answer she
wanted.
“I’m afraid not.” Whispers and groans of disappointment rippled
outward from where we stood. Some of the onlookers began filing away
with an air of dejection. “Are you all waiting to leave?”
She nodded. “There have been no ships for over a week. We have coin
saved, but food and board are expensive. The longer we wait, the less we
have left to pay for passage.”
“Where are you going?”
She shrugged. “Anywhere.”
An older man piped up. “Anywhere warmer than here!”
A few weak chuckles came from the remaining crowd, along with
muttered agreement.
I frowned at Arcus, who had turned back to wait for me. At my look,
he approached with long strides. I asked the woman, “Why do you want to
leave?”
Her eyes shifted nervously to Arcus before she answered in a whisper.
“It’s the Purity Exodus.”
My brow furrowed in confusion, Arcus’s mirroring my own.
“The Winter of Purification,” she said, as if that clarified things. When
I shook my head, she added, “Anyone not strong enough to withstand the
cold was told to leave the kingdom. By royal decree.”
“Royal decree?” Arcus said harshly. “I think not.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she said quickly, starting to bow, one
hand to her stomach.
I touched her shoulder, pushing out a burst of warmth. “That’s not
necessary. We only want to understand what’s going on.”
Her voice was so quiet, Arcus and I both leaned in to hear her. “The
winter has been terribly harsh. People who are not Frostbloods can hardly
withstand the cold. And there is a scarcity of firewood. We have no choice
but to leave if we want to survive.”
“Who calls it the Winter of Purification?” Arcus asked, making an
effort to sound less stern, though I sensed his underlying anger.
“You’ll find out more in the office there,” she said, gesturing to the
building with the Blue Legion standard. “I don’t want to say the wrong
thing.” Her eyes darted from the guards in front of the building to others
patrolling the wharf.
“Thank you for the information,” I said, more convinced than ever that
something was dreadfully wrong here.
“Oh,” she said, her hands unfastening the cloak. “You’ll be wanting
this back.”
“Keep it,” I said with a smile, then followed Arcus, who had set off
again for the building.
The two guards straightened as we approached, their expressions
hostile.
“Halt!” shouted the portly, older guard.
“Stand aside,” Arcus said calmly. “Where can I find your superior?”
The answer came in a deadpan voice as if he’d repeated it many times.
“This is the office of the Right Honorable Lord Grimcote of Agrifor
Province, High Overseer of the Purity Exodus. He takes no visitors without
an appointment.” The guard looked us up and down, and his tone relaxed.
“You can make an appointment through Secretary Jarobs. Might get in as
early as next week.”
“He will make an exception for me,” Arcus said with a hint of irony.
“I doubt it,” the squat guard said, his eyes skimming my figure with
frank appreciation. “I can see you’re not from here, but don’t worry,” he
said with a reassuring lift of his palm. “Trade with other kingdoms will still
be welcome. If you come from Safra, the Coral Isles, or even Sudesia,
you’ll be allowed to dock at our ports and deal fairly with our merchants.
Fairly, mind you! None of that Sudesian cheating. You wouldn’t want us to
close off trade with you again now that it’s just been opened.”
“Indeed, no,” I agreed, swallowing my rage. “I wouldn’t want to be
kept away from your lovely shores.” I swept my eyes around, encompassing
the slushy, uncleared streets as well as the piles of refuse thrown in corners.
When my eyes returned to his, he was still beaming. Irony was lost on this
one.
Arcus remained resolutely silent.
The other, taller guard leered at me. “If you’re looking for work, you
might want to check at the Painted Lady.” He jerked his chin to the street at
his right. “The madam employs girls like yourself, and she’s none too picky
where they’re from, either. It’s nice to have some variety now and then,
isn’t it?”
He raised his brows and grinned at Arcus, apparently waiting for him
to agree. Instead, Arcus drew off his hood. “I fear you’re operating under
some misconceptions.” His stony expression must have given the guards
pause, though no spark of recognition lit their dull faces.
“We meant no offense,” the older guard said. “But as a favor, I’ll tell
you that you shouldn’t get too attached to this one.” He indicated me with a
nod. “Frostbloods won’t be permitted to form attachments to non-
Frostbloods. Not if you want to live in Tempesia, that is.”
“You are mistaken.” Arcus bared his teeth in a rictus of a grin, all
threatening white teeth and anticipation. “Very dangerously mistaken. Now,
move.”
The squat guard shook his head again, his expression turning from
earnest to belligerent. “I told you, go talk to Jarobs. You might get in to see
Lord Grimcote next week, or at the most two or three—”
Before he could finish, his mouth was full of ice. In seconds, his body
was covered in layers inches thick. On his other side, his companion’s eyes
were frozen wide and staring. Arcus’s hands were lifted, each directed at
one of the guards, his fingertips glittering with frost.
Relieved I didn’t have to put my rusty swordsmanship to the test, I
gave Arcus a smile. “Nicely done.”
He pulled his hood back on. “Two hands. Two guards. Simple.”
Stepping past their frozen bodies, he opened the door.
FOUR
Aside from a few snoring patients, the infirmary was finally quiet for
the night. The manor’s ballroom had turned out to be perfect for us, its
fireplace providing heat and a warm glow that made the room feel snug
despite its size.
Everyone’s injuries had been tended, every patient given herbs to help
with pain. Of the healers and volunteers, only Doreena and I remained,
bundling up dirty linens and tidying the supplies.
When she was finished, she scrubbed her hands with lye soap in the
bucket of melted snow I’d turned into warm washing water. “I’m glad this
day is done. I don’t think I sat down once.”
“A long day,” I agreed, rolling up a clean bandage and storing it in a
basket kept handy for the healers.
“If you don’t need me, milady, I’m going to bed.” She dried her hands
on a clean rag and rubbed her lower back as she straightened.
We shared a room on one of the lower floors of the manor house. It
had two beds, but I’d barely used mine. As tired as I was, I couldn’t sleep at
night. I felt too jumpy and anxious to relax unless it was a quick catnap
during the day. Beyond worrying that I might have a nightmare and
sleepwalk around the infirmary, terrifying the patients, every day that
passed without searching for the Gate of Light brought me closer to panic.
“Soon,” I said. “I want to check if we have enough linens for
tomorrow.”
She managed a tired smile. “Good night.”
An hour later, I was folding clean rags and placing them in a neat pile
when the squeak of the door opening brought me sharply alert.
I relaxed as I recognized Arcus’s silhouette even before he entered the
glow of firelight. “It must be past midnight. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“I was on my way to bed when I decided to check if you were still
here. I’m glad I did.” Without another word, he took the folded linens from
my hands, put them aside, and swept me into his arms.
I bit off a yelp of surprise, and my hands came automatically around
his neck. “What are you doing?”
“Stealing you.”
“Stop, thief,” I whispered.
His teeth flashed white in the dark. “Just retrieving what’s mine.”
A pleasant shiver passed through me. My body didn’t seem to mind his
assessment of ownership. His strong arms holding me so securely calmed
my thoughts.
Still, I couldn’t let that claim go. “Yours?”
“No?” He lifted me and placed a hard kiss on my mouth.
My skin heated at the possession in that kiss, however much I might
object in principle. I leaned up and initiated one of my own, letting my lips
linger against his. “Unless you also belong to me.”
He was breathless when I pulled away, and I didn’t think it was from
taking the stairs two at a time. “I gladly agree to your terms.”
“My room is downstairs,” I pointed out.
“But mine isn’t.”
He pushed open a door at the end of a long hallway. The room was
small and spartan with only a dresser, washstand, and trunk. It was clearly
meant for a servant.
“You didn’t take the lord’s chamber?”
“Two whole families can fit in there. This is enough for me.”
He set me on the bed before unbuckling his sword belt and setting it on
the floor within reach. Then he removed his leather vest. I had already
undressed down to my chemise and was under the covers by the time he
joined me.
“You’re still dressed,” I pointed out.
“I’m so tired, I could sleep in full armor. Come here.” He turned on his
side and reached an arm around my waist to haul me to him, my back to his
front. I rested my arm alongside his. My heat soon enveloped both of us,
creating a snug cocoon under the quilt. He sighed and kissed the top of my
head. Contentment washed over me. Maybe I could actually sleep.
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Because I missed you,” he said, his voice a sleepy rumble. “And I
thought you might be missing me.”
“I was.”
I wriggled under his arm until I was facing him. I wanted to see him.
The corners of his lips curved up slightly as I rested a hand on his shoulder,
but his eyes didn’t open. His breathing deepened. The tension in his face
eased, making him look both younger and more vulnerable. A protective
urge came over me—almost like it had as I held baby Gyda—to stand
between him and any harm that could come to him.
It was ironic that I carried the greatest danger in my heart.
“When do we go to Forsia?” I asked, hearing the desperate edge in my
voice. The sands in the hourglass were falling. We’d lost time by staying to
help the people in Tevros. For all we knew, Eurus could be at the Gate by
now.
Arcus’s eyes opened, bleary and unfocused. “I meant to tell you I
received a message from Brother Thistle. He’s at the abbey.”
“Why there?” Last we’d heard, he was still in the capital.
He yawned, his words slurring. “We’ll find out when we get there.
Can’t leave yet, though. A request for aid came from Collthorpe to the east.
Blue Legion trying to take control. Need to show up with a strong force,
show them I’m back. It’ll only take a couple of days.”
Frustration shot through me. “I need to give Brother Thistle The
Creation of the Thrones.” The sooner he studied the book, the sooner we
could find the Gate.
Arcus didn’t answer. His breathing had slowed into the gentle cadence
of slumber.
I lay there beside him, fighting sleep, afraid of my dreams.
A FEW MINUTES BEFORE MIDNIGHT, I was at the tower door, pushing until
the stubborn oak yielded with a groan. I slipped inside, my boots stirring up
a cloud of long-settled dust. For a few seconds, the sound of my sneezing
ricocheted through the empty foyer, the echoes profanely loud in the solemn
dark.
My flame-filled palm lit the way up narrow stone steps, each tread
worn into a smiling curve by the passage of many feet. I climbed until the
stairs ran out, the roof opening to a cloudless, star-strewn sky. The wind
fought the fire in my palm, so I let it die, waiting a minute for my eyes to
adjust. Deep shadows marked the embrasures in the six-foot protective wall
hugging all four sides of the tower.
Though I couldn’t see much more than an undulating silhouette, I
heard Brother Thistle’s robes whipping in the rising wind. He stood on the
westward side of the tower, his back to me. I came up beside him, peering
out at the night, knowing what we would see in daylight: the barren patch of
land where we used to practice my sparring, and past that, a thick pine
forest choked with snow.
“Remember when I couldn’t even manage to burn a shrub?” I asked
softly, each word snatched and twisted by the wind.
“How could I forget?” He turned toward me, though I felt it more than
saw it. “I was constantly on my guard lest you roast me by accident.”
“You should have been worried I’d roast you on purpose. I was quick
to anger back then.”
“Back then?” he said pointedly. When I made a sound, half laugh, half
annoyance, he chuckled. “The trick for you was learning to harness your
power in moments of calm, rather than relying on your temper to let it
explode. As I recall, learning to ignite a candle was almost more of a
challenge for you than creating a conflagration.”
“That’s what really impressed you? The fact that I finally learned to
light a candle? Nothing like setting your expectations low.”
“Nonsense. Restraint and delicacy are the marks of complete mastery
of a skill.”
I grimaced. “Delicacy was never my strong suit.”
“And yet you have as refined an approach in your art as any Fireblood
master.”
My cheeks heated with embarrassed pleasure. “Thank you.”
It was touching to receive praise from my teacher, especially in the
very place where I’d started to learn. I felt a sense of rightness, of a circle
being completed, and my heart lightened.
He cleared his throat, a touch awkward after giving a compliment.
“Provide us some light, Miss Otrera, if you please. We have work to do, and
we need light and focus. I am glad you persuaded the prince he would only
be a distraction.”
“Me too.” I sensed that I’d need my entire focus for this. I relit my
palm, holding it low against the wall to protect the flame from the wind.
Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a silver box covered with
engravings. The firelight painted the lid orange as he unlatched it and
reached long, thin fingers into the velvet-lined interior. With infinite care,
he extracted a roll of dun-colored cloth.
“Be careful,” he said, offering the roll to me. “Do not drop it.”
I extinguished the fire in my palm and cooled my temperature before
accepting it.
“This is the relic?” A shiver slid down my spine as I smoothed my
fingertip over the stiff, almost brittle, remnant. Sudden dizziness swept over
me, but I fought it off. There was nothing fine or special about the fabric
itself. If I hadn’t known better, I would have guessed it was an ancient
cleaning rag.
“Yes, it is a piece of the very cloth that Sage wrapped around the
goddess Cirrus when she fell to earth, exhausted from her labors.”
I nodded. We had discussed all this beforehand, how he hoped my
ability to see visions would allow me to communicate with Sage if I
touched something of hers. There was even a legend that this tower was
near the place where Cirrus had fallen after she imprisoned the Minax
underground and created the Gate of Light to keep them from escaping.
According to legend, a mortal woman, Sage, had found Cirrus and nursed
her back to health. In gratitude, Cirrus had filled Sage with sunlight, giving
her powers of healing and foresight.
Even though the book had given us clues about the Gate’s general
location, following its vague directions wasn’t going to be fast enough. As I
considered how desperately we needed this to work, I fought a sense of
panic, and my hands crushed the cloth convulsively. The fabric took my
heat and offered it back to me, sending a tingling through my palms.
“Careful, Ruby,” Brother Thistle said. He motioned to the flagstones.
“You’d better sit.”
I sat with my legs crossed, my back braced against the stone wall, then
poured out just enough heat to warm myself until I was comfortable. I took
a deep breath, then closed my eyes.
“You will need to calm your mind,” Brother Thistle said. “Be open to
the connection.”
I nodded, knowing what he wanted me to do. Breathing evenly, I
repeated the word of power Brother Thistle had given me when he’d trained
me, waiting until a sense of stillness pervaded my mind before rubbing my
hands against the cloth. I ignored every sense other than touch, feeling the
cool, rough fibers. Instinctively, I poured out a touch of heat.
Almost instantly, a sun burst behind my eyelids. “I see light!”
“What else?” Brother Thistle asked eagerly.
I shook my head. “Too bright. Wait.” My heart cantered into a nervous
rhythm, my hands growing clammy against the cloth. “A shadow. A figure.
Someone walking toward me.”
“Tell me everything you see.” His voice grew distant.
“The figure is tall. She’s wearing a robe. Wait, it’s not a robe, it’s a
gown.” I trembled and turned my head away, struggling against the
brightness that kept increasing until my head ached. The hair on my nape
rose, and my stomach swooped and lifted as if I were at sea during a storm.
“I feel strange.…”
“Stay with it,” Brother Thistle’s muted voice said. “Tell me what you
see.”
A woman’s features began to materialize from the shimmering fog. “I
see her. She’s smiling. She’s… beautiful. It’s not Sage, though. I think it’s
—”
I gasped and gritted my teeth as a blinding pain stabbed into my head.
“Miss Otrera? Ruby!” Brother Thistle’s shouts faded away completely
as my breath evened out and the ache faded.
When I looked down at my hands, they were empty, the relic gone. I
was standing dressed in a white robe that pooled at my feet. My arms were
bare, my wrists covered in gold bands, a rope of twined gold belted around
my waist. My skin seemed cooler than usual, and I felt stronger, my mind
sharper.
I couldn’t feel the Minax inside me at all. Relief swamped me, though
I also felt strange. I hadn’t understood how much I’d become accustomed to
its presence.
Realizing the woman had stopped in front of me, I curtsied deep,
holding my head down.
“You may rise,” she said, her voice low and soft and wonderful. I
looked up, following the lines of her gown, woven in threads of gold. Her
arms were also bare, the skin dark brown and smooth. My gaze followed
the elegant line of her throat, where a thick braid hung over one shoulder,
my perusal ending at her eyes. I gasped and started to shake. Her eyes were
made of light, with no irises or pupils. After a few moments, the light
dimmed until her eyes became discs of bright gold.
“Do not fear me,” she said. “I am Cirrus.”
I felt so overwhelmed, I couldn’t even manage to feel shocked. We had
tried to summon Sage and had summoned a goddess instead. The power of
her presence brought helpless tears to my eyes. I let them roll down my
cheeks unchecked. I couldn’t seem to move to wipe them away.
“You are Ruby Otrera,” she said, her words accented but clear.
I could only stare, my heart exploding against my ribs. When my
knees buckled, she reached out and took my upper arm in her hand.
“You are the first mortal I have spoken to in many an age,” she said in
her raw-silk voice. “Not since Sage have I communicated with another.”
She squeezed my arm gently, and a rush of peace filled me. It was the
most glorious feeling. I wanted to stay in this moment forever.
“Sage has claimed you as her own,” she added, “and so I cherish you
as I cherish her.”
Her words filled me with a sense of delight.
“Why did you seek me, Ruby?”
My brow furrowed as I searched my memory. My thoughts were
jumbled and confused, filled with awe at the splendor of the goddess.
“I don’t know,” I admitted ruefully.
She laughed, and I raised my face to the sound, as if I were basking in
sunlight.
“Mortal minds are wondrous strange! They dream of worlds, yet hold
so little.” Her hand came to lift my chin. “You came to ask something of
me, did you not?”
I struggled to remember. From some great distance, I heard Brother
Thistle calling my name. A sensation of cold touched my forehead and
cheeks, and I thought perhaps he was putting his hands to my face. It came
to me that somewhere far away, my body sat on a tower roof while my
spirit traveled.
A cold sting on my cheek shocked me from the sense of floating
peace, and the urgency in his voice jolted my mind into clarity.
“The Minax!” I exclaimed, all the threads coming together. “Eurus
wants to free them.”
Cirrus’s eyes narrowed with some emotion, dimming the light. The
vision’s brightness diminished, too.
I glanced around, suddenly fearful of darkness invading this place.
“You have little time,” she said with a hint of warning. “You must
leave here soon.”
Brother Thistle called my name again, frantic.
“Where is the Gate of Light?” I asked, recalling my purpose.
She sighed. “I am not allowed to tell a mortal the location of the Gate.”
“But Eurus is on his way there to open it!”
She hesitated. “The Gate cannot be opened from the outside.”
Relief surged through me. “So, we’re safe? He can’t open it?”
She shook her head. “The Gate is battered from within. A flaw has
formed. A rift that Eurus intends to widen.”
“A rift?” My relief was short-lived. “How do we fix it?”
“It can only be repaired by someone with the gift of sun.”
“Sage?”
“Sage has the gift,” she confirmed.
“Is there a way to destroy the Minax if they do get free?”
“A creature made by a god may be altered by a mortal, but it cannot be
destroyed.”
I closed my eyes in despair.
She added, “But light balances darkness, and frost balances fire. The
mixture of the two can have a temporary effect on the shadows.”
I struggled to understand. “Do you mean frostfire? Frostfire weakens
the Minax?”
She gave a single nod.
Hope surged anew. At least she had given me that much.
“What can you tell me about the Gate?” I spoke rapidly, feeling like
my hourglass was nearly empty. “If you can’t tell me its location, can you at
least tell me if it still stands? Is it safe for now?”
“I cannot interfere in mortal conflicts,” she reiterated.
“But Eurus is interfering!”
“My brother does not break his vow—yet. He is in mortal form,
vulnerable to mortal needs and threats, so he does not break our mother’s
rule of noninterference.”
“If that’s allowed, then can you also take a mortal form to help us?”
She shook her head. “I swore not to.”
“All these vows! What good are they if they prevent you from helping
anyone?”
“Who are we without our vows, which are the laws we create for
ourselves? Only vows keep the sun rising each morning, and the sea from
covering the land. If we abandon our own rules, we are surrendering to
chaos.”
Tears gathered in my eyes again, and this time, they were not from joy
but frustration. Here was a source of limitless knowledge and unfathomable
power, and I couldn’t persuade her to share much of either. What could I
say to get her to help?
She cared about Sage. That much I knew.
I laced my fingers together and took a breath. “You say you cherish
Sage. She hasn’t come to me in a vision for a long time. Can you at least
tell me if she’s in trouble?”
Cirrus was silent for a moment, then nodded. She stepped close, her
warmth embracing me, and touched a fingertip to my forehead. A spark of
energy made me close my eyes.
I saw another scene. A vision within a vision.
In a stone corridor, a muscular man held a woman by the arm, tugging
her along. Her dress was dirty and torn, her gait unsteady. She stumbled, her
long, golden hair swaying. Her captor yanked her upright none too gently.
“Get your paws off me, you stinking animal,” the woman snarled,
shoving at him.
I knew that voice. It wasn’t Sage, but it was someone familiar,
someone whose voice usually sounded smoother, composed and cultured as
she delivered sarcastic barbs.
“Marella!” I gasped in shock.
The guard merely chuckled and grabbed a handful of her unbound hair,
twisting it until she yelped, then pushed her forward again.
After passing a series of cells, they stopped in front of one. Inside, a
woman was hunched over in a corner.
Not Sage, either. The Sage of my visions was young, her hair gold, her
hands smooth. This woman had white hair, the tangled strands matted with
filth. The fingers that rested on her knees were twisted with age.
The guard extracted a set of keys, unlocked the door, and shoved
Marella in. She fell to her knees on a pile of dirty straw. The door clanged
shut. She scrambled up and threw herself at the bars, as if she could pull
them apart with her bare hands. Her face was as gaunt as it had been the last
time I’d seen her.
“My father is the acting regent of Tempesia!” she shouted, her violet
eyes glowing with hatred. “Let me go or you’ll pay with your life!”
Her torn gown had fallen off one shoulder, revealing a reddened area
of raised skin. It looked like a burn scar. Or a brand.
The vision dissolved.
Once again, I found myself facing Cirrus. But the light of her eyes had
dimmed. She started to fade.
“No, wait!” I shouted. “Tell me what it means! Where’s Sage? I don’t
know what you want me to do!”
“Find her,” she said with urgency. “Help her.”
Wind whipped against my cheeks, and the scent of pine filled my
nostrils. Icy hands shook my shoulders.
Cirrus disappeared, and the floating gold sparks in her hair turned into
stars set into a cold, black sky.
EIGHT
“SHE’S WAKING!”
My skin burned. I couldn’t seem to open my swollen eyelids. Thick
blankets held me down.
“Easy, easy,” Kai said, taking my shoulders. “Do you want the quilts
off? No need to do battle. You nearly kicked me somewhere vital.”
I sighed with relief when the weight came off and cool air hit my skin.
“Better?” Kai asked, his face inches from mine when I opened my
eyes.
My voice was clogged with gravel. “You don’t put quilts on someone
with a fever.”
Relief lit his eyes. “You were shivering, Princess Grump.” He laughed
and straightened. “I think she’ll be fine.”
Brother Thistle’s voice shook as he bent over me. “Thank Fors. And
Tempus.” He swiped a hand over his face. “All the gods! I think I prayed to
each one.”
“Water?” I pleaded. My throat felt as if it had been scraped with a
bundle of twigs.
Kai supported my head as I drank, then set me back against the pillows
before stepping back.
I saw that we were in one of the abbey’s guesthouses. It was snug, with
only enough room for a bed, table, and wardrobe. The room felt extra
cramped since it also contained a prince and not one, but two, anxious
monks: Kai, Brother Thistle, and Brother Gamut, all hovering over me.
I narrowed my eyes. “Could you please stop looking at me like I’m
dying?”
Brother Thistle stepped back. Brother Gamut smiled and clapped his
hands as if I’d said something wonderful.
“I will go make you some of my tea,” the healer monk said as he
hastened to the door. “It will make you feel much better.”
Brother Thistle stared down at me, his tone accusing. “We were very
worried. You collapsed, and I had to wake Prince Kai to carry you from the
tower. In the meantime, the fever raging through the abbey has worsened.
Some of the brothers and sisters are gravely ill. We thought you might be
afflicted as well.”
“I honestly feel fine. A bit sore.” I tried to stretch my spine, my
muscles protesting every movement. “Kai probably dropped me when he
carried me here.”
Kai leaned against the wall, arms folded. “Only once. Maybe three
times.”
I finally noticed his appearance. His tunic was stained and his boots
were dusty and scuffed. His chin was darkened by auburn whiskers, and his
glittering gold-brown eyes had dark circles under them.
“What in Sud’s name happened to you?”
“You happened. You slept for two days, slugabed. I neglected myself
for Brother Thistle’s sake. He thought you needed tending through the
night.”
“And you couldn’t find your razor in all that time?” I’d never seen him
anything but clean shaven.
“How uncharitable, Ruby. I thought you would find me dashing.” He
swept a hand up and down. “My noble person haggard from taking such
tender care of you.”
He didn’t look haggard, just a little disheveled, and he must have
known it only made him more attractive.
“I can believe more than ever that you were once a swashbuckling
pirate,” I said rather than admitting my thoughts.
“Once?” He grinned. “Oh no. Once a pirate, always a pirate.”
“I am sorry to interrupt your… empty prattle,” Brother Thistle said,
sounding anything but sorry, “but did you see Sage in your vision, Ruby?”
“No.” At his crestfallen expression, I added, “I saw Cirrus.”
His eyes rounded, and he gripped the side of the wardrobe as if he
needed the support. “The goddess herself!”
“Maybe that’s why I got the fever,” I mused. “Seeing a goddess must
be much more powerful than seeing Sage.”
“Perhaps,” Brother Thistle said, noncommittal. “Did Cirrus speak to
you?”
I smiled. “She was a regular gossip.”
“Miss Otrera! That is no way to speak of a goddess.”
I wrinkled my nose, remembering my complete awe while in Cirrus’s
presence. Maybe he was right. And “gossip” was a gross exaggeration,
anyway. I’d had to pry answers out of her. “I asked her where the Gate of
Light is, and she said she couldn’t tell me.”
“What else?” Brother Thistle prodded.
“She said that frostfire will weaken the Minax, though nothing can
destroy them. ‘No mortal can destroy the creation of a god’ were her words,
I believe.” My lips twisted. “So that was encouraging.”
“If that is true,” he said thoughtfully, “then we must have both
Frostbloods and Firebloods together when we approach the Gate. In case
the unthinkable happens.”
“One problem,” I reminded him. “Only royalty—direct descendants of
kings and queens—can create frostfire. That’s what The Creation of the
Thrones says, isn’t it?”
He stroked his chin. “It says that only royalty can create true frostfire,
the element in its most powerful form. However, a weaker form could still
be useful, if such a thing exists.”
“You and Kai could conduct a test,” I suggested. “If you two can create
frostfire, others should be able to as well.”
He nodded. “We can try. Did the goddess tell you anything else?”
“Yes, but it’s confusing. I asked her how to find Sage, and instead she
showed me a vision of Marella in a prison cell and told me to rescue her.”
Kai’s brows rose. “At least we know she’s alive. I was sure Eurus
would have… discarded… her after they disappeared in Sudesia.”
I nodded. “Yes, but I don’t know for how long. It looked like she’d
been mistreated. Her clothes were more like rags, and she had a burn scar
on her shoulder. The guard wasn’t gentle with her, either. He had a rather
brutish, piratey look about him. No offense, Kai.”
“What made you think he was a pirate?” he asked.
“I suppose it was his tattoos.”
“Do you remember them?”
I closed my eyes. “There were so many. An anchor, a rope knotted in
the shape of a heart. A lock overlapping a coin. A door with an arrow
through its keyhole.”
His brows rose. “Now that’s something. Was the lock open?”
“Did I mention this was in the midst of a vision of someone hurting
Marella, Kai? I wasn’t exactly focusing on the tattoos.”
He swore. “Still. I think you’ve found one of Liddy’s people.”
Brother Thistle leaned forward eagerly. “Who?”
“An old acquaintance. Liddy the Lender—although she has expanded
her operation to include other, more lucrative endeavors. The dart through a
keyhole is a reference to one of her more infamous assassinations. The open
lock with a coin means the guard was a mercenary, open to working for
anyone who pays a fee.”
Brother Thistle tilted his head. “For what purpose would this Liddy
imprison Lady Marella?”
“Who knows?” Kai replied. “Maybe she raided the ship Marella was
on and realized she’s valuable. Probably plans to ransom her.”
That made sense. “But… Eurus kidnapped Marella, so that means he
might have been on the same ship,” I pointed out. “Liddy might have
captured him, too!”
“That would be very convenient,” Kai replied. “But we can’t depend
on it. I imagine he’s wily enough to evade capture.”
“Can you get us to your moneylender?” Brother Thistle asked.
“She’s not my moneylender.” Kai shuddered. “Liddy is as bloodthirsty
a pirate as you’ll ever meet. But yes, I can get us to her.”
Everything was coming together, finally. “Good. We can leave
tomorrow for Tevros, stopping at Collthorpe for Arcus on the way.”
Kai scrunched his face up. “About that. He might be on his way here.
We sent word to him that you were ill.”
“You what?” I slung an arm over my eyes. “Why would you do such a
thing?”
“If he were ill, wouldn’t you want to know?”
“Yes, of course. Just… he’s going to be worried for nothing.” More
specifically, he was going to shout and make a ruckus and be impossible.
“You’ll have to catch him on the road and tell him I’m better. We need you
in Tevros anyway to start preparing to sail.”
“There’s the princess side of you coming through,” Kai said with a
laugh. “I’m truly convinced you’re fine now.”
I dropped my arm, looking up at him gratefully. “Thank you for doing
this.”
“Of course. I’ll leave first thing.” He slid his fingers through his
tousled hair. “Well, I’m going to have a bath and shave before bed. If I’m to
be murdered by an irate king, I want to look my best for the funeral.”
“Ruby’s illness was not your fault,” Brother Thistle stated. “Using the
relic to spark a vision was my idea.”
“Yes, but I’m here, and he doesn’t like me,” Kai reminded him. “A
convenient scapegoat for his worry. I had better sharpen my sword.”
My hands curled into fists. “You’re not going to fight! Your gifts are
evenly matched. You could kill each other.”
“All the more reason to have a sword ready.” Kai chuckled. “Be at
ease, Ruby. I was teasing.” He took my clenched hand and smoothed his
thumb over my knuckles. “I’m glad you’re better. I missed you bossing me
around. Now that you’re well, I’m going to enjoy a good night’s sleep. If
you’re sure you’re all right?”
I waved him away. “Go. Good night. Brother Gamut should be here
any minute with his special tea. It’ll put me out like a light.”
Kai grinned, bowed, and moved to the door. “Sweet dreams, Princess.
Don’t sleep so long this time.”
When the door shut, Brother Thistle came to sit on the edge of the bed,
his manner unusually hesitant. “You saw a burn scar on Marella. Was it…”
He cleared his throat. “What did it look like?”
I gave him a curious look. I hadn’t really thought about it. I closed my
eyes again, letting the images form. “It was dark in the cell, but from what I
could see, the scar was sort of a semicircle with lines coming off it. Oh!”
“What?” he asked.
I opened my eyes, examining his pinched face curiously. “It reminds
me of Brother Lack’s seal. Lord Grimcote.” I waved a hand. “Whatever he’s
calling himself now. I told him a sun was too cheery for him.”
“It looked like a sun?” he asked, his pale blue eyes burning.
“Yes, I guess so. You’ve seen that symbol before?”
He swallowed but didn’t reply. His expression went from strained to
fearful. Trepidation crept up my spine.
Just then, the door burst open and Brother Gamut bustled in, beaming
as he held out a cup of tea. “Nice and hot, just the way you like it!”
“I must consult my books.” Without looking at either of us, Brother
Thistle grabbed his cane and rushed from the guesthouse.
An erratic trail of frost coated the floor in his wake.
NINE
AN HOUR AFTER DAWN, BROTHER Thistle, Arcus, Kai, and I stood in the
arena. The sky was unusually clear, a vivid disc of robin’s-egg blue. The
tiers of seating were empty, but a few members of Arcus’s council occupied
balconies, their colorful clothing standing out against the ice.
“Are you ready to make frostfire?” I asked, barely able to contain my
nervous anticipation for the next phase of our plan. The results of this test
would determine whether we had a weapon, however imperfect, against the
Minax.
Brother Thistle nodded. Kai made a “get on with it” gesture. Arcus
said nothing, as he and I were merely spectators.
According to Cirrus, frostfire had the effect of slowing and weakening
the Minax. Arcus and I had made frostfire together more than once, but
Brother Thistle believed it was our royal blood that gave us that ability. A
handful of royals making frostfire wouldn’t be much defense against
thousands of Minax if they broke free. We needed to be sure that others
could make it, too. Soon we would know for sure. We planned to leave the
capital in the next day or two, so this was one of our final and most
important bits of preparation before we set off in search of the Gate.
Kai faced Brother Thistle in the center. Arcus and I stood together a
safe distance away. When I gave the word, they brought their streams of fire
and frost together. Ribbons of orange painted their faces, reflected from the
flames. A crackling sound echoed over the icy walls.
Arcus and I waited anxiously for the fire and frost to merge into one
color, the telltale mark of frostfire.
“More,” I urged them.
Kai’s arms twitched, and he sent out more flame. Brother Thistle
poured out more frost.
The two streams remained obstinately separate.
Arcus stared with a fierce expression, as if he could will them to
combine.
I spoke softly. “Kai is a Fireblood prince. Brother Thistle is descended
from Frostblood nobles. They’re as close to royalty as we’re likely to get. If
this doesn’t work for them, it won’t work for anyone.”
Arcus gave a single nod but didn’t break his stare. “Direct it at
something,” he suggested. “The platform.”
The wooden platform intended for the Manus executions was still
standing. Kai and Brother Thistle moved closer, then turned their flame and
frost toward the thick planking, but the ice doused the fire too fast to let it
burn.
“Kai, bring the heat up just a bit,” I called out. Brother Thistle had a
powerful gift. Maybe the two forces had to be equally matched.
He nodded and his flame burned brighter, sweat beginning to dot his
forehead. Come on, come on, I thought. A second later, the red and blue
streams intertwined. The separate colors together grew brighter, then pulsed
with a pale light.
I watched the bright shape grow into a rotating torque of blue-white
flame. Pressure built behind my rib cage. Discomfort turned to pain. The
Minax stirred testily inside me.
Leave! Danger! Flee! it hissed in my mind.
My legs tensed, muscles bunching with a nearly overwhelming urge to
run, escape. I took slow breaths, battling the impulse, wincing at the pain as
I engaged the creature in a silent contest of wills. I hated the parasite that
drew power from my blood, hated my emotions for feeding it, hated this
situation.
“Ruby?” Arcus turned to me, concerned.
I didn’t want him to see how badly I was affected, how little control I
had. I stared hard at the platform, as if so rapt I was unable to look at him. I
didn’t know what he might be able to read in my eyes.
“It’s close, isn’t it?” I asked, a touch breathless.
He nodded. “It’s not exactly frostfire. But I hope it’s close enough.”
His gaze stayed on me. I wished he’d look away. I didn’t want him
staring, worrying, assessing, judging. I felt my nostrils flare, my temper
budding into heat for no good reason except that I would rather hide my
weakness, and he was watching me too closely. He was too perceptive, too
in tune with me.
I didn’t like it. Wait.
The Minax didn’t like it.
My agitation increased when I realized I couldn’t, at this moment, tell
which statement was true. Which thought was mine.
Then Brother Thistle took a step back, weaving unsteadily. As
powerful as the monk was, he was flagging.
“You can stop now!” Arcus called out, his attention pulled away. I
breathed a sigh of relief.
The fire and frost separated into two strands and petered out. Brother
Thistle and Kai dropped their arms. Kai shoved a lock of hair from his
forehead and grinned at us, glowing with the thrill of success. Brother
Thistle leaned heavily on his cane, panting. Arcus moved forward to help
him, only to be waved away.
“I am fine, son,” Brother Thistle said. “Offer your assistance to this
puny young Fireblood. He is about to faint from his exertions.”
Instead of snapping back as I expected, Kai chuckled. “You’re right,
old man. I could barely keep up.”
Now that the show was over, the council members rose and left their
balconies, filing out as quietly as they had watched. Arcus, Kai, and Brother
Thistle began discussing the test—analyzing the point at which the two
elements combined, making plans to train Frostbloods and Firebloods, and
sharing theories on how to improve the process. Normally, I would have
joined in and shared my own ideas, but I held back, crossing my arms to
hide my tremors, my chest tight. Turning away so they couldn’t see, I dug
the heel of my palm into my breastbone to ease the ache.
The Minax was passive now, but I could still feel its awareness.
Listening. Always listening. Waiting for that next dark feeling, that gleam
of sadness it could nurture into despair, the spark of resentment it could
kindle into violent fury.
With the Minax, I was never truly alone. And never truly myself.
If only I could expel the thing, reach into my heart and rip it out, burn
it, stomp it underfoot, sever its body with a sword. Anything! But my fire
was useless against this enemy. The sense of powerlessness made me want
to scream.
“I’ll get rid of you,” I whispered, hitting my fist once, hard, against the
middle of my chest. “Someday soon, I’ll destroy you,” I vowed.
The Minax lapped up my hate and preened.
“What’s wrong?” Kai asked as he caught sight of me. Alarmed, he
strode forward. “What is it, little bird?” His hand came to my back, rubbing
gently.
“Take your hands off her,” Arcus said between gritted teeth, moving to
intercept.
“Something is wrong!” Kai shouted, sending him a fulminating glare
as he held on to me. “Can’t you tell?”
“I—” Arcus stopped, suddenly defensive as he registered my distress.
“It’s not for you to comfort her.”
Kai wheeled on him. “Isn’t it? That’s what I’ve been doing for a long
while now.”
“I’m right here,” I said, still struggling to subdue the Minax. But they
were too busy glaring at each other to notice.
“Are you implying I haven’t been?” Arcus’s brows lowered
dangerously.
Kai’s eyes hardened. “That’s right. You have not. I was there when she
risked her life taking the Fireblood trials. I was there when she was
delirious with fever. I was there when she wandered my ship at night,
possessed by a creature bent on destroying her. Did you know she almost
threw herself overboard during one of her nightmares?”
Arcus turned to me with a look of horror. “You—”
Kai’s voice rose to a shout, heat flowing from him. “And I will be
there for her when she has to face a hateful deity who wants to kill us all!
Where will you be? Wooing your court? Conferring with advisors?
Subduing uprisings?”
“Stop,” I tried to yell, but it came out as a whisper. The Minax was
growing in power, devouring the energy of the argument, exuberant at this
turn of events.
“I will not apologize for having responsibilities!” Arcus shouted back,
his hands balled into fists.
Kai’s arm tightened around me. “I have them, too, but I put Ruby first.
She deserves that much!”
Arcus looked murderous, but I saw guilt there, too. Kai’s accusations
had hit home.
“What has gotten into you, Kai?” I asked softly, more bewildered than
angry. “He’s been there for me in every way he could be, from even before I
met you.”
Kai bent a frustrated look at me. “But since you met me, who has been
the more reliable one? Your supposedly steadfast Frostblood king, or the
temperamental prince who vowed to marry you?” His golden-brown gaze
burned into mine. “You see me as flighty and irresponsible—you’ve
implied as much. And yet I’ve been the one at your side whenever you
needed me.” He shook his head. “You never gave me the opportunity to
show that I can be steadfast, too.”
Arcus’s hands twitched with leashed violence. I could hear his
breathing, too rapid, as his frigid gaze shifted between Kai and me.
My mouth opened, but no words came out. Why was he saying all
this? Why now? I’d thought everything was resolved between us. He
couldn’t still think of me that way, after I’d made it clear what I wanted.
Who I wanted.
“You and I are friends,” I said, willing him to agree.
“Yes, but did you ever consider that I could have been much more?”
He never took his eyes from me. “That I still could be?”
“Enough, princeling,” Arcus warned with an edge of violence.
Kai ignored him. My heartbeat stuttered as he slid his hand to my
cheek. “Ruby?”
The invisible tether that held Arcus snapped. He lunged forward, his
hands snaking around Kai’s throat. They went down in a heap, rolling over
the arena floor.
The Minax careened in a happy dance, and I could no longer fool
myself that I was managing it. Everything was spinning into chaos. The
moment I stopped trying to subdue the Minax, I found my voice.
“Stop it, you lackwits!” I screamed over the sound of punches and
grunts. “Or I’ll roast you both!”
Kai slammed Arcus’s forearms, breaking his hold, then landed a
cracking punch on his jaw. Arcus gave one back, then another. Bracing his
back on the ground, Kai placed his feet on Arcus’s chest and, in a blur,
flipped him on his back, got one punch in, and started to stand. Arcus swept
Kai’s legs out from under him, tackling him as he fell.
I lifted my palms, already covered with fire. Brother Thistle, who had
been watching the fight with an air of interested detachment, calmly raised
his hand. “Allow me.”
He poured out a swathe of ice that covered both of them. Arcus
punched and elbowed his way through the layers of ice, while Kai melted
them. Brother Thistle just kept pouring out layer after layer after layer until
Arcus’s movements became sluggish, and Kai growled in frustration when
each layer he melted was replaced instantly.
Finally, trapped in ice up to their shoulders, they just glared at each
other, each with a look of killing fury, breathing heavily.
I was so angry, I thought my heart was going to burn its way out of my
chest, the Minax with it. The creature was whispering all the ways I should
punish this indefensible nonsense. I was on the edge of trying one or two of
its suggestions when Brother Thistle moved next to me and put an icy hand
on my shoulder.
“Very good, Miss Otrera,” he said quietly. “Peace now.”
His cooling touch and a number of deep breaths brought me a measure
of control. I was still furious, but I was myself again.
“You irredeemable fools!” I hollered, coming to stand between them.
“We’re facing an enemy who would destroy us all in a blink, and here you
are, trying to pulverize each other. We’re supposed to be working together!
That’s the whole point of all this! If you two can’t do it, what hope is there
for the Frostblood and Fireblood armies?” I threw up my hands. “I give up!
Kill each other, for all I care! I’m leaving.”
I stomped away.
“Don’t you dare!” Arcus bellowed.
“Wait, Ruby!” Kai’s voice sounded hoarse. Maybe he’d taken a punch
to the throat.
Good.
Hearing the smashing of ice, I tossed back a warning. “Don’t follow
me, either of you! I’m liable to kill you!”
I strode through the open doors, past the silent guards, and into the
castle. When I reached my chamber, I wrenched my satchel from the
bottom of the wardrobe and commenced jamming it full of essentials, all
the while making furious plans. I would ride to Tevros, hire someone to
captain the ship, and find the pirate moneylender myself. Surely one of the
other sailors knew where she lived. I didn’t need Kai. I didn’t need Arcus.
“Idiots!” I vented, buckling my satchel and slinging it over my
shoulder. “Clodpolls!” I burst out of the chamber and stomped down to the
kitchen to grab food for the journey to Tevros. I ignored the tall figure
striding toward me through the corridor, as well as the quietly fascinated
guards who stood at intervals. “Birdbrained maniacs!”
“Ruby.” Arcus’s voice, low and compelling.
“Leave me alone!”
“Ruby, please.” As I came to a corner, he reached out and grabbed my
sleeve.
“No!” I swung around. His face was a swollen mess with blue blood
smeared under his nose and on his chin. His lip was split and one eye was
already darkening. “Is your nose broken?”
He sniffed. “No.”
“Too bad.” I turned away, stomping toward the kitchen.
His footsteps followed. “You couldn’t seriously expect me not to react
to what he said to you. What amounted to a proposal of marriage, Ruby. In
front of me!”
“Yes, yes. You’re all that’s frightening and magnificent. No one dare
anger you, and so on.”
“This is not about my arrogance.”
“No”—I spun to face him—“it’s about the opposite. You are so
threatened by him that you think it’s necessary to kill him rather than let me
decide what I want.”
His eyes shadowed. “Can you blame me? What would I do if you
didn’t choose me?” The vulnerability turned into challenge. “What would
you do in my shoes?”
“I would package you up and send you off to Marella—”
“I never wanted Marella.”
I flapped my hand. “Whoever, and I’d wish you the best.”
“Really.” Oozing skepticism.
“Yes, really!” I tilted my chin up, wondering why the fury in my eyes
alone didn’t give him sunburn. “Because I don’t want to be with someone
who doesn’t want to be with me.”
“Neither do I!” He put his hands out as if to touch me, then seemed to
think better of it. “But I can’t bear the thought of you with anyone else.”
The desperation in his voice tugged at the soft places inside me. “Well,
I can’t bear the thought of you with anyone else, but that doesn’t mean I’m
going to go around trouncing the alternatives. It’s for you to decide who
you want, and it’s for me to decide who I want. If we choose each other,
that’s a happy ending. Anything else is doomed to fail.”
He stared at me for a second, then looked down, opening and closing
his hands. I followed his eyes. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding. I
shook my head and blew out a breath, angry all over again to see him
injured.
“Do you remember when I was about to leave for Sudesia,” I said,
“and you said that we needed to let each other go a little?”
His wary gaze snapped up to mine. “Don’t bring that up as an example
of how reasonable I can be. I regretted those words as soon as you were
gone. I don’t want us to let each other go. I want us to hold on with
everything we have.”
I felt the same, but I had to make him see.
“Listen, Arcus. You said that because you didn’t want me to feel
trapped. You wanted me to have choices because you understood that you
can’t hold on forever if the person you’re holding is pulling away.”
He sliced the air with his hand. “And now I understand what it was
like to think I’d lost you. I’m not willing to risk that again.”
My tone softened. “Are you talking about when I was ill at the abbey
and you thought—?”
“No! That was beyond…” He shook his head. “I can’t even think
about that. No, I was referring to what happened in Sudesia. I watched your
engagement announcement, Ruby. I watched you kiss him, the man you
were promised to marry.” He swallowed. “I thought you were gone, out of
my reach forever.”
I paused to consider that, conceding to myself that it would have been
agony. “I can only imagine how hard that was. If the situation were
reversed, I’d have probably set the whole island on fire.”
“See? You don’t know what it’s like to lose me, so it’s easy for you to
judge me harshly.”
“That may be true. But it’s not that I’m judging you for being
possessive. I feel that way about you, too.” I took a deep breath. “But I do
judge how you act on that feeling. You hurt my friend. You hurt my friend
who is already hurting. I chose you, Arcus. Over him. He is the one left
behind, despite being good and true to me. He was only arguing for a
chance, thinking he had one. He doesn’t.”
“You have feelings for him. You care for him. I can see it.”
“Yes! I do! And I always will.”
He reared back as if I’d struck him.
“But it’s nothing to what I feel for you!” I grabbed the collar of his
tunic with both fists and shook him—which barely budged his big frame. “I
want you. I’ll choose you every day, over and over. Do you hear me? Don’t
give me a reason to choose differently.”
His head bowed toward me. His breaths sawed in and out. His hands
came to cover mine, pressing them against his chest.
“I don’t want you to choose differently.” His head dropped, his cheek
coming to rest on my hair as his arms came around me. “Don’t choose
differently. Ever.”
“Then don’t be a clodpate,” I muttered, trembling with all the emotions
surging through me.
He paused. “Or a Miserable Blockhead?”
I huffed an almost laugh. “Or that.”
“Forgive me.”
“All right.”
“Just like that?”
“I’m a Fireblood. I’m allowed to be mercurial.”
He started to laugh, then groaned. “My ribs. I want to hold you, but
everything hurts.”
“A good reminder for you.”
He chuckled softly, rubbing a hand over his chest. “You’re a cruel
woman.”
Before I could reply, the Minax whispered in my mind. Cruel, yes.
“What’s wrong?” Arcus asked, sensing my change in mood.
I shook my head and forced a smile.
SEVENTEEN
IN THE COLD, DARK HOURS BEFORE dawn, I crept into Brother Thistle’s
cabin with a tiny flame lit in my palm. He slept soundly, his back to me, for
which I whispered a quick thank-you to Sud. He’d be furious if he caught
me.
It was the work of a few minutes to search his trunk and find the
familiar wooden box that held the relic: a piece of Cirrus’s cloth. Since I’d
contacted the goddess once, I was sure I could successfully contact her
again, and this time I would ask more questions about rescuing Marella and
getting to the Gate.
Tucking the box under my arm, I returned to my cabin, setting it on my
lap as I sat on my bunk. When I drew the cloth out, I took a moment to
calm my breathing and my mind, then pushed out a gentle layer of heat, the
way I had before. A surge of prickly energy flowed up my arms. I waited,
expecting the room to fade and Cirrus to appear.
Nothing happened. The mahogany-paneled walls of the cabin stayed
resolutely solid.
I lay down, clutching the relic to my chest. Maybe my mind wasn’t
calm enough. I shut my eyes and waited, my breathing slowing until the
silken threads of sleep crept over me.
Sometime later, the scents of wintergreen and wood fires filled my
cabin. I inhaled, expecting the sense of peace and calm I had during my
vision of Cirrus.
Instead, a pounding in my head made me feel as if ice smashed into
my skull. Then a gust of blistering desert air seared my skin. I let out a cry
and opened my eyes.
Two strange figures loomed over me: a vibrant, dark-haired woman
with flames in her eyes and a blue-eyed, serious-faced man, his skin and
hair covered with frost. He wore armor made of ice, and she a gown made
of flames. Power crackled in the air.
I knew who they were. They looked just as they did in the tapestries in
Forwind Abbey.
“Finally,” Fors, god of the north wind, said dispassionately, dropping
his ice-coated fists. He examined his hands. “I would hate to think I’d lost
my touch reaching into the mind of a mortal.”
“Punching your way into it, you mean.” Sud, goddess of the south
wind, shook her head at him before returning her attention to me. “She is
small.” Her head tilted. “A fledgling.”
Fors sighed. “She is mortal. What did you expect? They are all puny.”
“Cirrus said she held much power when she sent us here in her place.”
Sud sounded skeptical. “I do not see anything exceptional. But then, these
things do not always show on the surface.”
My blood rushed in my veins as they examined me. Instead of Cirrus,
somehow I’d summoned Fors and Sud, the god and goddess who had
created Frostbloods and Firebloods. I lay stunned and silent, trying to
decide if this was a dream. It might have been. They didn’t behave like
deities, or at least not like Cirrus—stately and elegant. Instead they behaved
like regular bickering siblings.
“Are you… are you really here?” I asked in a whisper so quiet I barely
heard myself.
“Fear not, mortal,” Fors said in a loud, nearly toneless voice while
taking stock of my cabin with a bored countenance. “We mean you no
harm.”
“You need not shout,” Sud admonished him. “We are already speaking
at a volume detectable by mortal ears. In our long absence from their realm,
you have forgotten much, my brother.”
Fors sniffed once and raised a brow at his sister but didn’t reply.
I rubbed my eyes and blinked. There they were, still there.
Sud smiled, cocking her head again. “They are rather charming, aren’t
they?” With slow deliberation, she reached out and touched my nose with
her burning fingertip. Boop. My eyes rounded. Hers crinkled at the edges.
“In their way,” Fors agreed coolly. “Though I prefer my mortals a little
more… authoritative and intimidating.”
“To each her own,” Sud countered.
“You’re speaking another language,” I wondered aloud, just above a
whisper. “Yet I understand you.”
Sud continued to smile indulgently. “There wouldn’t be much point in
talking otherwise.”
It was so wrong to be lying in bed in front of the god and goddess, but
when I tried to move, my limbs wouldn’t obey. “Should I… should I
kneel?” I asked worriedly.
The goddess waved a hand. “No time for that. We come to you on
behalf of our sister, goddess of the west wind.” She shook her head,
frowning. “I am quite out of practice at conversing with mortals. I will
speak plainly. Cirrus told us you have used her relic to try to speak with her.
Do not do so again. She cannot help you, and neither, unfortunately, can we.
Our mother, Neb, made us vow never to interfere with mortals after our
brother Eurus, well, ruined everything.”
“Irritating,” Fors said, the ice on his body crackling. “After we saved
him from exile.”
The flames in Sud’s eyes flared brighter. “Unforgivable. But then, our
mistake was trusting him.”
“So the stories are true?” I asked in awe.
Suddenly, the twin gods appeared as children. Their cheeks were more
rounded, their olive skin and white teeth glowing with health. They giggled
as I stared.
“It was a youthful folly.” Sud motioned between herself and her twin.
“We were but this old when we found Eurus alone on the island. We
brought him to our parents, begged them to forgive him. We thought he had
changed.”
“We were wrong,” Fors said. “He could not bear that we had created
mortals with our own gifts. He had to have the same. And when he could
not, he vowed to destroy our creations. If he releases his shadows,
Frostbloods and Firebloods will cease to exist.”
In the space of a blink, they returned to their adult forms. They stared
at me, waiting.
“I want to stop him,” I said earnestly, shaking with the need to do
whatever the gods commanded. “Please, what can I do?”
Fors said, “Eurus believes you are full of darkness, a mortal specially
made to do his bidding. Is he correct?”
“No,” I said firmly, then added desperately, “I hope not.”
The goddess narrowed her eyes in contemplation. I had the sense she
was peering into my soul. “This girl is one of my own, and yet she loves
one of yours.”
“Of course,” Fors replied in a superior tone. “How could she not?”
“Love can make you strong,” she said, giving him a significant look.
“And love can make you weak.”
“Irrelevant,” Fors replied. “The only question is whether she has
enough control to fight the darkness.”
“Or whether she is brave enough to succumb,” Sud added.
They nodded in unison.
“What does that mean?” I asked urgently.
Sud peered at me for a few moments before saying, “Know this: We
cannot interfere as long as Eurus keeps Neb’s law. A mortal form with only
mortal abilities breaks no vow.”
“If he should slip, though,” Fors murmured, lifting a brow. “If he
should forget himself…”
“Then you can help?” I asked, my pulse registering my excitement. “If
Eurus uses his powers as a god?”
Sud tilted her head again. “I wish we could bring this one home with
us. Such a darling little mortal.”
“What would you do with such a puny creature?” Fors shook his head
in disgust, turning his back on me, his outline starting to fade as he walked
away.
“I would teach her all the secrets of fire,” Sud replied, elbowing her
way in front of him.
“And then when you grow bored with her, I suppose you can put her in
the statue garden.”
Sud’s musical laughter swirled in the air, the dust motes in my cabin
catching fire and dancing before winking out.
“Wait!” I called, feeling empty with the loss of their presence. “I have
more questions!”
But their images had already disappeared, leaving only the scent of
ashes and evergreen. I saw no more until I woke the next morning.
TWENTY
THE BAG OF COINS LANDED WITH A thwump on the scarred wooden table,
and the pirates’ raucous chatter tapered into silence. Two dozen pairs of
eyes turned toward us. Their hands reached for daggers or swords.
Despite the tavern’s humble facade of mismatched stones and
crumbling mortar, the spacious interior boasted high ceilings and thick oak
beams hung with three large iron chandeliers. Most of the candles had
burned down to nubs, their flickering glow leaving the corners in shadow.
Cheroot smoke floated in clouds, its earthy scent underlaid by the musk of
sweat.
The decor was a discrepant mix of sturdy furniture and extravagant
baubles. Between two grimy windows, a fluted glass vase brimmed with
peacock feathers. Beside it an enormous gilded tusk sat on end, as if an
animal were skewering the tavern from below. On one side of the bar, a
black lacquered chest with open drawers spilled silks in a colorful mess. On
the other side, a marble statue of a woman rose from a seashell cast in
bronze. The floor was covered in peanut shells and the remainder of spilled
drinks. A lean, sharp-eyed man and a serving maid with curly red hair
flitted between tables, their smiles generous, their steps quick, and their
trays laden with stoneware frothing with ale.
Liddy’s guards outside had recognized Kai and happily received his
bribes to let us pass. They stood, massive arms folded, on either side of the
door.
We moved closer to Liddy. Even if Kai hadn’t described her to me, I’d
have guessed her status by the sheer volume of gaudy jewelry adorning her
throat and wrists. She wore so many necklaces—pearl, gold, silver,
diamond—that I wondered how she could breathe.
As agreed beforehand, Kai took the lead. He’d warned me that he’d
need to tread carefully as he made amends for his late payment. My role
would come later.
With a show of airy unconcern for the threatening glances of her
minions, he gestured to the large leather bag on the table, which had come
to rest just shy of a puddle of spilled ale.
“Well met, Liddy. I believe you’ll find that settles my debt.”
He was dressed like the prince he was, in brushed red velvet and white
lace, a gold hoop in one ear the only concession to his privateer days. He
checked his nails before tugging at his cuffs, adjusting each fold so the lace
fell perfectly, his demeanor relaxed. He was as at home here as he would be
in a palace.
Liddy assessed him from head to toe, her eyes making a meal out of
him from his aristocratic features to his shoulders, over his lean waist and
farther south, her attention lingering on what I preferred to assume was his
sword hilt.
Her lackeys waited for her verdict. She was surrounded by grizzled
men and women, all of them impossibly muscular and excessively armed.
Although four Fireblood masters and one Frost King were hidden in the
woods outside the tavern, it was still intimidating to stand alone, just Kai
and me, among two dozen or so snarling, belching cutthroats.
But Liddy, with her quiet, steely authority, was the most imposing. She
was beautiful, as Kai had said, but in a bolder way than I’d imagined. Her
full, pouty lips were painted red. Thick brows arched over heavily lashed
brown eyes that snapped with ruthless calculation. Her physique was large
boned and solid. I had the sense she could lift a sword and fell an enemy
right alongside her brutish companions. Her black satin gown showed more
than a hint of her large bosom, and long, tight sleeves ended in ruffles at her
wrists. Her dark hair fell over one shoulder in a pink-ribbon-festooned
braid, the color far too soft and whimsical for a woman of her merciless
reputation.
“You’re late,” she said in a rich, low-pitched voice, lifting a sooty
brow at him. Her plush lips held no hint of a smile. “You know how I feel
about late payments.”
Kai’s voice was even. “It’s all there, Liddy. Everything I owe. Count
it.”
She twitched her head to the left. The beefy paw of the man sitting
next to her came out to snatch up the leather coin purse, then he pushed
back his chair and stood, tromping his heavy-booted way toward the back
of the tavern, presumably where they counted the money.
“If you’ve tried to cheat me,” she warned, “you won’t walk out of here
alive.”
Tension—or was it anticipation?—spread like a ripple in a still pond,
encompassing all but the outermost edges of the tavern.
“You know I’d never try that with you, Liddy. We’re old friends.”
She made a huffing sound.
“Lovely gown,” Kai remarked, pouring on the charm. “A little muted
for you, though, isn’t it?”
“I’m in mourning,” she replied without a flicker of emotion. “My
husband.”
“Your fifth?”
“Sixth.” Her eyes conducted another thorough perusal of his person.
“You’ve been gone awhile.”
He bowed. “Glad I haven’t been forgotten.”
She took a sip of her bloodred wine, a suggestion of a smirk tilting the
edges of her moistened lips. “I’d never forget you, Prince Kai. You owe me
money.”
He cleared his throat. “Not anymore. That purse contains my final six
payments.”
There was no change to her expression, but her tone betrayed surprise.
“All of it?”
“I’ve had some good fortune of late.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her voice grew silky. “Do tell. No secrets
between friends, right, my prince?”
Kai stood a little straighter as he said, “The queen granted me a second
chance at the Fireblood trials. I passed.”
A few of the pirates murmured and one of them let out a low whistle.
Passing the trials earned admiration among Firebloods, whether you were a
courtier or a criminal.
“You got your island back?” Liddy asked, honing in on the
significance of this news.
“In title, yes. I haven’t had a chance to claim it in person. Soon, I hope.
There are other matters that I need to clear up first.”
Just then, the hulking minion stomped back to the table, our leather
purse no longer in his possession. “All accounted for,” he said, taking a seat
and a loud gulp of ale.
Kai exhaled. “You see? We’re square.”
She snorted. “You think this means we’re square? You missed
payments. That demands a forfeit.” She looked him over as if he were a
horse she was thinking of buying. “When you first came to me, I saw
something in you. I cultivated you, lending you money for your first ship
because I figured I’d see a handsome return on my investment. And I have.”
Kai sketched a bow. “You honor me with your compliments. I hope
our profitable history will help you excuse the lateness of my payment.”
“I’ve never been the forgiving sort,” she said with heavy-lidded eyes.
“If I make an exception for you, everyone will start taking advantage. Isn’t
that right, lads and ladies?”
Her companions all shouted their agreement, offering her suggestions
on how to punish late payments. She held up her hand and they quieted.
She tilted her head to the side. “However, there is a way you can make
it up to me.”
“What is it?” Kai asked, his tone finally betraying a hint of nerves.
She made a motion to her black gown. “As I said, I’m without a
husband.” She grasped his hand and smoothed her thumb over his knuckles.
Kai froze like cornered prey.
I stepped around him into her line of vision, smiling broadly. “I’m
afraid Prince Kai has neglected to introduce us.”
Liddy’s red-tinted lips pressed together at the interruption, her gaze
still on Kai as she asked, “Who is this, your sister?”
He gave an awkward laugh and disengaged his hand from her grip,
reaching out to pull me forward.
“Allow me to introduce Princess Ruby Otrera, niece of Queen Nalani,
and heir to the Sudesian throne. My betrothed.”
To her credit, Liddy didn’t gasp or stare. She merely shot me an
intense look of scrutiny. I had dressed carefully for this meeting, glad for
the impulse that had made me pack the red gown I’d worn the day the
queen had announced my engagement to Kai, brief though it had been. My
hair was piled on my head, with a single inky ringlet flowing down over my
right shoulder.
Liddy yanked her eyes back to Kai. “You’re not serious.”
“I am, indeed.” He lifted my hand to his lips for a kiss before resting it
on his forearm. “It was announced months ago.”
That much was true. A few months prior, we’d been engaged for a
matter of days, after the queen demanded our agreement during the final
stage of the Fireblood trials.
“The queen has approved the match,” I added, smiling up at Kai like a
lovesick ninny.
“Yes,” Kai said, injecting the word with a hint of regret. “She feels
most strongly about this alliance.”
“Hmm.” Liddy crossed her arms. The other pirates shifted restlessly,
picking up on her tension. It was time to drop the curtain on this bit of
theater. “Funny, I’d heard that a betrothal was announced, but your bride-to-
be ran off with the Frost King.”
I sucked in a breath, hoping it sounded more offended than worried.
“That’s not true.”
She looked between us. “My gut is telling me different, and my gut is
never wrong. You don’t act like lovers.”
Kai gave me an indulgent smile. “Ruby isn’t like my other…
sweethearts. She’s a princess. She’s innocent of the ways of the world.”
“No heat between you, though, is there?” Liddy said with growing
satisfaction. “Anyone can see that. An arranged marriage. Come now, my
prince, you don’t want this, do you? It’s not too late. I can help you, you
know.”
“I’m devoted to her.” He pulled me close to his side, curving a
possessive hand low on my hip.
“I feel the same.” I leaned into him, wishing we’d rehearsed more
beforehand.
Liddy waved her hand. “Prince Kai, you’ve dashed my hopes for a
union with your fine self. I don’t suppose you’d indulge me in one request.”
“Indulging you would be my honor.” But I felt him tense.
Liddy leaned back in her chair, her gaze flowing between us. “A kiss
would tell me all I need to know. Don’t you all agree?”
A rousing “Hurrah!” shook the rafters. The pirates stood and moved
closer for a better view.
“We’d be delighted,” Kai said, eyes meeting mine. “Wouldn’t we,
Ruby?”
“Of course,” I said, forcing a smile.
As he took my shoulders, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the
corner of my eye. When I turned my head, my spine went rigid. One of the
windows was covered in an obscuring layer of frost, but a hazy silhouette
hovered on the other side.
I knew exactly who it was.
“What’s wrong?” Kai whispered in my ear, brushing his lips over my
cheek.
“On the lips!” the pirates protested.
I swallowed hard and whispered back, “Arcus is watching through the
window.”
“Make it a good one,” Liddy instructed, leaning back in her chair. “A
little peck on the cheek will not satisfy us, will it, lads and ladies?”
Wonderful. Just when Kai and I had settled the matter of our
friendship, now we had to convince a room full of rowdy onlookers that we
were on fire for each other. Arcus was still barely speaking to me after our
fight. This surely wouldn’t help matters. And to top it all off, the Minax was
waking, picking up the room’s vibes of nervousness, anticipation,
aggression, and threat.
A chorus of agreement and ribald comments followed. One of the
pirates exhaled, enveloping us in cheroot smoke. I cleared my throat to
ward off a fit of coughing.
“Well, in that case,” Kai said, lifting a brow to verify I was ready.
When I gave him a tiny nod, he bent me back over his arm.
A cheer went up from the crowd.
I felt the tension in Kai’s shoulders under my hands. His touch was
familiar, his technique flawless as his lips moved warmly over mine. In
completely different circumstances, I might have been able to enjoy it. But I
was so conscious of the pirates watching and the window to my left that I
could scarcely concentrate.
Kai was no novice and gave them everything they wanted, prolonging
the kiss as the pirates shouted advice and encouragement. I felt a flush
creep up my neck and into my cheeks.
Which drew more cheers.
For good measure, I transferred my hands to his hair, pulling him
closer, trying to satisfy this demanding group of spectators.
When Kai finally straightened, I took a relieved breath. His bright
golden-red hair caught the candlelight as he ran a hand through it, mussing
it even more than I had. He smiled, a little out of breath as he received
winks and slaps to his shoulder. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.
“Does that satisfy you, my dear Liddy?” he asked, smiling.
She looked more resigned than satisfied. “I suppose it does. You want
to talk terms of putting your debt to rest, then?”
When he nodded agreement, I stole a glance at the window. It was
completely opaque, covered in frost. No, not frost. Ice, at least an inch
thick. The sunlight barely penetrated. As messages go, it was a pretty clear
one. The Frostblood who’d stood there a minute ago was not happy.
I let out a breath. I’d deal with that later.
Liddy ordered, “Get up, you laggards,” to the people at her table. They
moved off, giving us privacy. She waved at us to sit. Kai took a seat next to
her, and I took the spot next to him. In moments, the barmaid placed glasses
of red wine in front of us.
Liddy tapped her fingers on the table. “I won’t lie. I’m disappointed.
But I know when I’m beat. I’ll hear your other offer now.”
“Gold,” Kai said, producing a Tempesian coin from his pocket and
placing it on the table. “Heaps of it. All taken from the Frost King’s
treasury.”
She let out a hearty laugh, drawing curious stares. “You plundered the
king’s coffers? That’s quite a feat.”
He inclined his head to acknowledge the compliment. “I have enough
to compensate you for my lateness. And then some. If you’re willing.”
“What do you want in return?”
“We need information,” I said, watching her carefully. “The
whereabouts of a certain Lady Marella of the Frost Court.”
Her eyes went blank. “Don’t know anything about that.”
“Come on, Liddy,” Kai said softly, persuasively. “You have your
informants, and so do I. How much is she worth to you?”
“More than you’ve got. And keep your voices down. Forget you ever
heard of her, if you want to keep breathing.”
He stiffened. “Threats, Liddy? I thought we were past that.”
“Not a threat. Friendly advice. You stay far away from that lady.”
She downed her wine and wiped her lips with the back of her hand,
preparing to stand.
“Wait,” I said, leaning toward her. “If you really mean to be friendly,
you have to tell us more. Are you saying you don’t have her?”
“I’m saying nothing at all.” Her eyes shifted around the room.
Kai glanced at me. Liddy was frightened. What would it take to scare
the pirate mercenary?
He turned back to her. “This is worth a lot of coin,” he said in a low
voice.
“Not to me,” she replied, her eyes hardening.
My breath hissed out. “You don’t understand. It’s far more dangerous
if we don’t find her.”
“I understand more than you think. She’s mixed up with fanatics who
worship the god of the east wind.”
Kai and I caught our breath.
“What do you know about that?” he asked.
Speaking quietly, she said, “I know I hate them. I didn’t take them
seriously at first, sailing around under black sails like a bunch of
jackanapes. Then they started to steal ships and cargo and crews and even
islands. People who fight back usually find themselves at the bottom of the
ocean. I told my captains if they see a black flag with a rising sun, they’re
to hightail it the other way.”
My mouth ran dry and blood was pounding in my ears. I’d seen that
symbol several times now—on a seal in the overseer’s office, on Lord
Blanding’s shoulder, and in my vision of Marella. I just hadn’t known what
it meant.
Now she was describing exactly what I’d seen in my dream, a fleet of
black-sailed ships flying Eurus’s flag. I’d thought it was a portent of the
future, but it was already happening.
“Did you have Lady Marella at some point?” I asked, remembering
that Kai had seen Liddy’s mark on the prison guard.
“I was hired to take her from one place to another, and one of my
crews did so,” Liddy said. “End of story.”
“Where did they take her?” Kai asked.
“You’d better pay me that coin you promised,” she warned.
“We will,” I said. “Extra if you deliver her to us.”
“I told you, I don’t have her anymore.” She gritted her teeth and shook
her head. “Listen well because I won’t repeat myself. A man hired me to
ferry this young woman from one place to another. A Frostblood lady,
sickly young thing. In a bad way, but with more than a bit of fight to her.”
I nodded. Sounded like Marella. “Who hired you?”
“He didn’t give me a name, but one of my crewmen who comes from
Sere said the man looked just like Prince Eiko of Sudesia.”
Kai let out a shuddering breath. “Very tall? Black hair? Green eyes?”
“Yes. Something chilling about him, though. Not right.”
If only she knew. It was Eurus himself, possessing the body of Prince
Eiko, the Fire Queen’s consort.
“Where did you take the lady?” Kai asked again.
“The man said she was more trouble than she was worth and he didn’t
want her underfoot anymore. At first I assumed this lady was his lover and
he’d grown tired of her when she got sick, but I don’t know. She didn’t
seem like she wanted anything to do with him. He wanted me to lock her
up, said he had a use for her but she had to be kept somewhere secure. I told
him I had an island to the north where she could sit tight for a while.” She
leaned in. “So, my captain takes her there and puts her in a cell, as
requested.” She tapped the side of her nose. “But I can scent an opportunity
a mile away. This girl is worth something in ransom. So I sent word to the
Frost Court with my demands.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think your message ever arrived. Her father
was out of his mind with worry.” Arcus had promised Lord Ustathius that
we’d do our best to get her back.
“That’s right,” Liddy said with an angry jab at the table, though she
didn’t raise her voice above a whisper. “Because that miscreant, Prince
Eiko, boarded and stole my messenger ship. And then he stole my island!
He came with his fleet and attacked, pressing my men and women into his
service, killing the ones who refused. My crews, my ships, my land!” She
made a visible effort to calm down. “He’s a menace to honest
businesswomen like myself.”
“How many ships does he have?” I asked.
She shrugged. “A score? Could be more by now. They operate north of
here. That’s why they take mostly Frostblood ships. They need the
reinforced hulls.”
“Have you ever heard of the Isle of Night?” I asked, taking a chance.
She laughed throatily. “Everyone in these parts has heard of it. Doesn’t
exist or I’d know where it is.”
I sighed. It would have made our task so much easier had she known
its location.
“There’s a book that says different,” Kai said, finishing his wine.
She chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re a dreamer, Prince Kai. A
dreamer chasing rainbows. Always were.”
“I might be.” Kai pushed to his feet and took her hand. I stood and,
without planning to, found myself curtsying as if she were a queen and not
a leader of thieves and raiders. She inclined her head with a smirk.
After they made arrangements to exchange payment for a map of the
island where Marella was imprisoned, Kai brushed his lips over Liddy’s
hand. She didn’t bother to stand, but patted his cheek with beringed fingers.
He straightened. “Always a pleasure, Liddy.”
Her eyes were fond as they looked him over. “Be careful, my prince. I
don’t like to think of anything happening to that pretty face.”
He gave her the full dose of his charming grin. “Me neither.”
She grimaced. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
TWENTY-ONE
WE REACHED THE ISLAND WELL after sunset, the sky a dark blue velvet
set with a pearlescent moon.
The stone keep was perched atop a soaring promontory, its outer edges
bristling with towers. On one side, the cliff curved to form a bay where
ships bobbed at anchor. On the other, scrubby evergreens crowded a slice of
beach.
We pointed the prow of our small boat at that narrow strip of land,
Arcus and a Fireblood master working the oars against churning waves.
Another Fireblood master completed our cozy crew of four, a small group
for a clandestine operation. If everything went smoothly, we’d slip in
unseen and pluck Marella from under the Servants’ noses.
On the island, torches moved to and fro as patrols carried out their
nighttime watch. The cliffs seemed to grow taller as we drew near.
I craned my neck to look up at the towers so far above. Shadows
nestled in the spaces where stonework had broken loose and fallen into the
sea.
“We can do it,” Arcus whispered, his hand resting on my upper back. I
leaned into his touch.
Kai’s ship, and the other three ships accompanying us, waited around a
bend on the far side of the island where the cliff was highest. Unless
someone looked down from directly overhead, our force would stay hidden.
All the lanterns had been doused, every crew member silent.
But if I gave the signal, the ships would attack the harbor as a
distraction.
After a few minutes, our rowboat scraped bottom. I slipped into the
freezing shallows and grabbed the bow to help pull the vessel from the
water. One of the masters inhaled as his feet sank into the frigid water, the
sound blending with the lapping waves. We spent a few minutes gathering
leafy branches from under the trees and dragging them back to partially
cover the boat in case the night watch came this way.
We didn’t speak as we each tied a section of a long length of rope
around our waists and put on leather gloves with sharp pieces of metal sewn
into the palms to help us grasp the ice that Arcus would create to make
handholds.
“Careful,” Arcus whispered.
“You too,” I replied.
Seva, one of the Fireblood masters, went first, as she had the most
climbing experience. Finding handholds in the rock, she hauled herself up.
Arcus followed.
I used the same holds to pull myself up, inch by inch. Some sections
offered multiple indentations to grab on to, and sometimes it took Seva a
minute or two to find the next handhold.
My fingers ached, my toes bent painfully to dig into the small ledges.
A breeze stirred tendrils of hair from my tight braid.
About halfway up, Seva stopped.
“No handholds,” she said in Sudesian.
I translated to Arcus, then held my breath, my eyes fixed on his dark
outline above.
The hiss of frost turned into the crackle of ice as it met rock. It clung to
the cliff face, forming into a nicely shaped ledge.
We had discussed the idea of the masters and I creating our own
handholds by heating and molding the rock, but even among the masters, it
was rare to have a gift that strong, and the effort would probably leave us
too weak to climb.
“It holds,” Seva confirmed, “but I need another.”
Our progress slowed as we had to repeat the process. After a while, my
arms and legs shook. Despite the cold, I was drenched in sweat.
“Ruby,” Arcus whispered urgently. “Keep moving.”
“Where’s the next handhold?”
“Left hand. Six inches up, two inches left.”
My fingers stretched, grabbed… then slipped. I panted, eyes wide. Ice
appeared a few inches above me. A series of handholds. I hauled myself up
until cold fingers closed over my wrist and dragged me to the top in a single
heave.
“I’ve got you,” Arcus said, pulling me into an embrace. His heart raced
against my cheek. Unable to speak, I leaned against him for a few seconds.
Dima, the other Fireblood master, reached the top. Meanwhile, Arcus
secured a grappling hook, making sure it was in place for our escape. We
untied the rope from around our waists and crept toward the keep.
A torch came into view near the tower and moved in our direction.
We crouched behind fallen stones from the crumbling towers. When
the guard was a few feet away, Arcus sent a gust of frost at the torch,
dousing it with a hiss.
The guard swore as he was plunged into darkness.
Swift and silent, I crept up behind, rock in hand, and bashed him over
the head. He crumpled. Kill! urged the Minax. Finish him!
Arcus’s smile caught the moonlight as he joined me. “Well done.”
Relieved that Arcus had brought me back to myself, I took a second to
check the guard’s pulse. Faint, but steady. Good. I didn’t want to kill
anyone unless I had no other choice.
As we moved forward, the base of the closest tower rose out of the
dark, the opening we needed covered by a hidden door—the entrance Liddy
had assured us wouldn’t be guarded.
“Borna!” a guard shouted from somewhere overhead. “Where are you?
Check in!”
“Hurry,” I whispered, moving my hands over the stones in a frantic
search.
“Got it.” There was a click and Arcus heaved open the hidden door.
We flowed like whispers into the passage under the keep. Thanks to
Liddy’s map, it wasn’t long before the twisting paths brought us to another
hidden door leading to the cells. I recognized the fetid stench before Arcus
even had the door open. It smelled like my worst memories of Blackcreek
Prison.
Recognition hit me so hard, I had to put a hand to the wall to stay
upright. Sensing waves of despair, the Minax stirred.
I forced myself to keep going.
The dungeon was empty. No guards in sight.
Motioning Arcus and the two masters to follow, I led them to the cell I
remembered from my vision.
Dim light from a barred window fell on what appeared to be a pile of
rags.
“Marella?” I whispered, searching for movement, hoping she was still
alive.
“Who is it?” she snapped, her voice hoarse.
Arcus said softly, “Marella? It’s me.”
The way he said it reminded me that they’d essentially grown up
together. At one time, she’d been his betrothed. She would know his voice
anywhere.
A sob came from the shadows, then shuffling sounds. A face appeared
in the dark. If I hadn’t known who she was, I wouldn’t have recognized her.
Her eyes appeared huge in her gaunt face. Her hair was too dirt-streaked to
see the sunny, wheat-gold color.
Her fingers wrapped around the bars. “It’s really you.”
“We’ll get you out,” I promised, lighting a flame in my palm.
Arcus touched the lock. Frost formed in the keyhole, just as it had in
Blackcreek Prison when Brother Thistle unlocked my cell. The ice grated
against metal. There was a clicking sound, but the lock didn’t yield. Arcus
made a frustrated sound in his throat and tried again.
“Well, if it were easy,” I pointed out, “Marella could have unlocked it
already.” Although I knew from my own experience in prison that her gift
would be weakened by hunger.
“I practiced this, dammit,” Arcus muttered when the lock didn’t open
for the third time. Brother Thistle had made lock-picking look so easy, but
he’d warned us that every lock was different, some easier than others.
Time for our contingency plan. I nudged him out of the way.
“Stand back and cover your face,” I told Marella, then grasped the
bars. Focusing with complete concentration, I poured heat into the metal.
The bars grew warm, then hot. They glowed orange. One of the Fireblood
masters murmured words of admiration, reminding me that not everyone
could do this.
Drained, I leaned against the wall, my energy spent. The masters and I
turned away as Arcus grabbed the bars with ice-covered hands and yanked.
The bars groaned, then broke with an explosion of sound.
“Is everyone all right?” he asked, already reaching in for Marella. She
squeezed between the broken bars and fell into his arms. He lifted her,
cradling her against his chest, then looked at me.
We all nodded that we were fine.
“My cellmate,” Marella said, turning her head. “You have to bring her
with us.”
“We came for you,” Arcus said sternly. “We can’t rescue everyone.”
“She’s an old woman. She kept me alive. Please.”
As a figure came into view in the cell, the floor shifted under my feet.
Shadows cloaked her, but I squinted as if I were staring at a bright
light.
The Minax slammed into awareness. Danger!
My head spun. It felt as if I were slipping and falling, losing my grip
the way I had on the cliff. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip to keep
from crying out.
“Leave her!” I tried to shout, but it emerged as a whisper. The Minax
writhed, twisting in my chest to the point of pain.
Everyone’s attention was on the prisoner as she stepped from the cell,
her face hidden by the fall of her matted white hair.
The Minax quivered. Dangerous!
I opened my mouth to warn Arcus, but he was already speaking.
“Marella says you saved her life.” I knew by his tone that he’d decided to
bring her along even before he added, “We won’t leave you behind.”
“Thank you,” she said with more than a hint of relief. As she wobbled
unsteadily, the Fireblood master Dima swung her into his arms.
I wanted to rage and scream that we were making a mistake, but Arcus
was already striding ahead, retracing our steps to the passage. I followed
swiftly, trying to bring myself under control. We could deal with this once
we were safely out.
But as we reached the entrance to the twisting tunnels, a massive man
stepped out of the shadows, his pale eyes glittering.
He spoke in a deep baritone as he raised a spiked club. “Eurus will
reward me for my service.”
TWENTY-THREE
I must have fallen asleep again, because this time when the door
opened, my face was pressed to the quilt.
“What is it, Jaro?” I asked when I turned to see the sailor nervously
swiping a hand over his sparsely haired head.
He shrugged, looking apologetic. “The woman wants to see you.”
I yawned and shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs from my
mind. “Lady Marella is awake?”
“No, not the young lady. The other one. Lucina.”
My lips twisted into a scowl. “Does she need something?”
He shrugged. “She says she needs to talk to you.”
“Thank you, Jaro.” I sighed. “I suppose I’d better go. Will you sit with
the king until I return?”
As I stood outside the cabin being used for the two recovering
prisoners, the Minax struggled inside me, whispering warnings of danger. I
had a nearly overwhelming urge to turn around and leave.
Stop, I commanded it, unwilling to give it that much control.
When I entered the cabin, Marella was asleep on one bed and Lucina
stood with her back to me, her long white hair flowing loose. I was glad to
see both of them looking clean and fresh, which I knew was a relief after
being in the filth of a cell for so long.
“You asked to see me?” I said as politely as I could manage.
Her shoulders moved as she took a deep breath, but she didn’t turn. “I
have waited a long time to see you again, my Ruby.”
“I’m not your anything.” I didn’t try to hide my annoyance. I already
regretted the decision to come here.
Her head turned slightly, showing one papery cheek. “You were once
my granddaughter.”
My blood heated with anger. “The only grandmother I ever knew is
dead.”
She turned slowly, her red-veined hand pushing her white hair back.
Dirt and darkness had hidden her face in the prison. Now I saw her clearly.
There was nothing particularly remarkable about her features, except for the
fact that they were utterly and unforgettably familiar.
For the blink of an eye, I was a small child again, sitting by the fire
begging for another story.
I stepped back and clutched the doorjamb for support.
Her once-dear face wore a sad smile. “I’m sorry your mother and I had
to lie to you. As you see, I’m very much alive.”
TWENTY-FOUR
AS WE NEARED THE ISLE OF NIGHT, the days grew shorter, and the Minax
grew stronger. It became almost smug, as if it held a secret, and the time for
revealing it drew near. It swelled in my heart, leeching control, its voice
mingling with my own thoughts.
The world turned a drab gray.
I could no longer hide the creature’s effect on me. My hands shook
with a fine tremor. Sleep once again came only when dawn touched the sky.
I grew jittery—a furtive skulking figure who avoided the ordeal of speech
or eye contact.
Arcus tried to talk to me several times a day. Despite the closeness we
had just shared, I found myself inexorably pulled away by my own misery. I
felt him watching me, his worried eyes following me wherever I went. I
tried to be gentle as I rebuffed his efforts, but when he wasn’t easily pushed
away, I turned to the same methods I’d watched him use: clipped replies,
stony glances, indifference.
It wasn’t that I wanted to hurt him. I was just barely holding on. I
couldn’t be close to him, to risk my emotions being stirred. Any emotion
was dangerous as I struggled to manage the creature’s growing awareness
and power.
I had an easier time with Brother Thistle as he didn’t stir the same deep
feelings. After I’d shared Lucina’s insights with him, he’d grown pensive
and thoughtful, spending most of his time reading the book in his cabin.
When he was on deck, he seemed preoccupied. Normally, I would have
hounded him to know why. Instead, I was grateful for his absence and
distraction.
Kai found my “grim behavior” unbearable. He said it wasn’t natural
for a Fireblood, and he took to verbally poking and prodding at my temper
with teasing and quips. I tried to numb him out. My agitation grew. The
more I refused to react, the more his goading escalated.
“If it gets any colder,” he said one twilit evening, joining me at my
new favorite spot at the stern, “your king will turn into one of those
icebergs we have been so studiously avoiding, and we will have to toss him
into the sea with the others of his kind.”
“I’m not in the mood, Kai,” I said tonelessly. My standard response to
him lately.
“Or we could leave him on deck as a decoration,” he persisted. “Or use
him as a figurehead. I could remove the wooden princess and replace her
with King Arkanus the Ice Block.”
I turned slowly to spear him with a cold stare. “What part of ‘not in the
mood’ did you misunderstand? Am I being too subtle? How about, ‘Shut
your gob, Kai, or I will plow you in the face with my fist’?”
He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, the auburn stubble darker than his hair.
Most of the men weren’t bothering to shave, as it would have been hard to
wield a razor on the choppy sea. Their hair-roughened jaws made them look
more menacing, which might have had the benefit of intimidating our
enemies if we were facing human opponents and not a host of shadows.
“That is certainly more direct,” he said with a lifted brow. “But you
don’t need to threaten me with a fist when there are so many more
interesting ways to keep my mouth occupied.”
“Please,” I said, heavy with sarcasm.
“Do I need to remind you?” It was a typical teasing come-on for him,
complete with a mind-scrambling sultry look. “I didn’t think you minded so
much last time.”
“Last time we kissed was in a room full of pirates. All I could think of
was when it would be over.”
“Then what about before that?” he asked, stepping close, eyes heavy-
lidded. “In your bedroom in the castle in Sudesia? Surely you remember.”
His warm gaze bored into mine. His hand came up as if to touch my lips.
I waited, breathless for the space of a heartbeat.
It was my unwilling pulse of heated reaction that made me furious. I
wasn’t even letting myself near Arcus lately, just in case a breath of desire
would set me off. And now Kai was lighting my fuse, the one I’d studiously
kept dampened with solitude and detachment.
“No, I don’t,” I said, starting to shake with anger. “I choose to forget.”
Something flared in his eyes. Triumph, I thought, just before he tilted
his head and added, “Prove it. Let me kiss you, and if you feel nothing, I’ll
know you’re telling the truth.”
Except none of my reactions were under my control lately, and I knew
a single touch would unleash the beast. He was taunting me because he
couldn’t bear to see me so emotionless and cold, not realizing that was the
only way I was keeping it together.
“Kai! Enough!” I shoved his shoulders. He hit the railing and
rebounded, chuckling.
“You still have some fire.” He continued to grin. “I was beginning to
despair.”
Something inside me snapped. “I don’t exist to amuse you! What is
your game? You caper around, digging at me with insults and then flirting
outrageously. You’re more changeable than the damn winds and far less
useful!”
His face lost some of its mirth. “It is unnatural for a Fireblood to
behave as you do, silent and grim. Without life. You need to eat and laugh
and sing and feel things again, Ruby.”
“I don’t have to get angry just to prove something!” Unable to stop
myself, I shoved him again, backing him against the railing. “I don’t have to
be the ideal Fireblood princess for you! Do you see the Fire Court here?” I
swept my hand to indicate the masts and deck. “Nobody cares. This ship is
full of people who know they might never go home again. And if they
don’t, it means I’ve failed and it’s my fault. My fault!”
Darkness pumped through my veins. I panted, glaring furiously.
Sailors clustered around us, drawn to see what the commotion was about.
Kai remained still, maintaining eye contact, the way you’d face a rabid
animal.
“None of this is your fault,” he said in a low voice. “Sometimes fate is
out of our control.”
“Do you think that helps? I don’t want your platitudes. I don’t want
anything from you, except perhaps to rip out your tongue so you can’t
burden me with your ceaseless, nonsensical prattling!”
His eyes flickered with hurt, then hardened. “You are a Fireblood, and
as such, you must allow your feelings to flow or you will do yourself
harm.”
“I am doing myself harm just by existing. Don’t you see? Every
second is a fight! If I give in to anger or sadness or even passion, the Minax
feeds off it and takes over. Do you have even the remotest idea what I’m
capable of in this form?”
“No, and neither do you. But I don’t believe you would truly hurt
anyone.”
He was so confident, so sure of me. And so wrong.
“You don’t think I’d…” My voice cracked as I laughed, and even I
heard the hysteria in it before I saw his eyes widen. All amusement faded as
the Minax tipped another rush of violent anger roaring through my blood.
“I am trying very hard not to throw you overboard right now! I’m not
kidding, Kai.” I reached forward and grabbed a handful of his shirt, pushing
against him with my fist until he leaned backward over the railing. I meant
only to convince him I was serious, to threaten, but the feeling of power
swept over me, fogging my thoughts.
“Do it, then,” he challenged, his brow drawn over sparking eyes the
dark gold of poplar leaves in autumn.
Bloodlust made my heart pound hard against my ribs.
“Don’t push me!” I screamed.
His voice cracked back just as loud. “Do it, then! If you’re so certain
you can!”
The Minax chortled with anticipation. I fought to keep it down.
“Even now, your face is so blank,” Kai grated. “I can’t stand it!” He
grabbed my nape in his warm hand and pulled me closer. “Show me
something, Ruby. Some sign that you’re still alive!”
He pulled me to his chest.
His heat. The thud of his heart. His scent.
The contact was too much. Everything in me wheeled out of control.
Strength flooded my limbs.
The creature took over.
As if I were a spectator in my own body, I watched myself grab his
vest and heave him upward and backward with a massive burst of strength.
With his quick reflexes, he managed to grasp the railing with one hand as he
cartwheeled over the side.
He smashed against the outside of the ship, barely holding on, but
managed to grab the railing with his other hand. He looked up at me, his
eyes wide and startled, his mouth open on a quick, shocked breath.
Jaro rushed forward to help him, but the Minax fogged the sailor’s
mind, holding him back. The miasma spread to cover the area, holding the
crew members in a trancelike stillness.
Inside, I struggled to reach out. If he fell in that icy water…
I could picture it all as if it were happening. His muscles would seize,
and his heart would stutter as he lost the ability to draw breath. He would
thrash for a moment, but he would sink. He would be just another sailor
buried in a vast, salty grave.
Desperation and fury bubbled up inside me, but the Minax fed on those
feelings, drawing them away, then poured into my mind full force. A sense
of heady power rushed through me, obliterating the last threads of my
conscience.
I was lost.
I slid my index finger over his, feeling the bone under the skin. Such a
small thing, a finger. Only ten of those strangely hinged and vulnerable
digits prevented him from plummeting into the hungry, churning depths.
“Is this the kind of touch you’re craving, Prince?” I crooned, drunk
with the sheer pleasure of his fear, the precariousness of his life held in such
delicate suspension.
Kai shook his head, his brows tilting up and pulling together in
dawning recognition. “You’re not Ruby.”
“I tried to tell you, didn’t I?” I bent and brushed my lips across his
knuckles, feeling how cool his hand was as his hot blood drained from
those grasping fingers. “There’s the kiss you wanted. Did you like it? Will
you beg for more?”
His eyes registered hurt, and some tiny part of me ached—Fight your
way back! Help him!—but it was soon buried in pulsating, malicious
enjoyment. Slowly, I slid my finger under his, lifting it away from the
railing. It would be lovely to hear him scream, and to hear that sound cut off
as the sea opened to receive him.
Something entered his expression, something I’d never seen in his eyes
before. I tilted my head to the side, trying to identify it.
“What have you become?” Kai whispered.
“Let him up, Ruby.” The voice came from behind me. Hard. Cold.
Implacable.
I snarled, “The prince is learning a valuable lesson.”
Arcus’s hand came out and grasped Kai’s wrist.
With a rapid jab, I punched Arcus’s forearm hard, making him gasp in
pain. His other hand grabbed my braid, the sharp jerk on my scalp making
me suck in a surprised breath. With his hand wrapped around my hair, he
turned my face to his, and I stared into enraged blue eyes.
“Come to your senses!” he shouted.
The Minax shied from him, as if from an unnamed something that was
repugnant to it, a light inside him that nothing could extinguish.
He let go of my hair, reached out, and lifted Kai to safety, depositing
him on the deck in a heap.
My hands fisted, fury tearing at my mind like jagged claws. “You had
no right!”
“Get below,” Arcus told the onlookers, eyes trained on me as he half
turned to speak to the prince. “Everyone but essential crew, Kai.”
Kai rose to his feet, fury, pride, and betrayal flashing in his eyes that
never left me. He shouted the order. The Minax, distracted by this new
threat, let them go. Footsteps clattered over the deck and everyone nearby
disappeared from view.
“You too, Kai,” said Arcus. “Go.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to leave you alone with her,” Kai warned
with a distrustful, measuring look. He stretched out his fingers, which I saw
were reddened and swollen.
“I’ll be fine. Go.”
With a searing backward glance, the prince left.
My gaze locked onto Arcus’s. We stood facing each other.
“I don’t like you,” I said, softly but edged with fury and a blend of fear
and excitement. My blood was up, and I craved a new victim, but he would
not provide as much satisfaction as the last one. I sensed his determination,
his steady, unswerving regard. He would not bend to my will so easily. The
game must be played more carefully, the seeds of darkness sown more
deliberately, the harvest reaped with speed and skill.
“I don’t like you, either,” he replied.
“You love me,” I sneered, grinning maliciously.
His eyes flared, his face briefly suffused with agonized emotion. “I do
love Ruby.”
Something leaped inside my heart.
“And that’s why I will destroy you, creature,” he promised. “I won’t
rest until you leave her and I will make sure you can never return.”
“I’ll kill you,” I swore. “I’ll kill you and her grief will be so great that
we will devour her mind and she will never come back. She will cease to
be.”
All expression closed off behind hooded lids. “I won’t play your game.
Threats and anger merely feed you.”
“I’ll kill you,” I goaded again, lifting my chin, lips curled.
He leaned against the railing in a relaxed pose, but remained tense and
watchful.
“There are many ways to appease us.” I stepped close to him, ignoring
the inner repugnance of his nearness, the feeling of how incompatible my
dark heart was with his light essence. “You want her. You can have her.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“But you do want her.”
His lips flattened. His hand tightened on the railing.
I looked up at him, making my eyes soft and inviting, sensually aware
of the tilt of my head, the position of my shoulders, the thrust of my breasts
against the jacket I wore over a thin shirt. “She thinks about you at night.
She longs for you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Stop this, Ruby. Stop this, now.”
“Her skin wants your skin,” I continued, touching a finger to his
sleeve.
“Stop.” His voice broke lower, raspy and emphatic. Revealing his
agitation. Good. Push him further. I slid my fingertips to his neck. He
shivered. He couldn’t hide his response: an indrawn breath, a flare of his
nostrils, the dilation of his pupils.
Still, he resisted.
“No.” Implacable. Final.
New tactic. “If you don’t give her what she needs, there are others who
will.”
“You’ve tried that threat on me before. I see through it now. You keep
trying to make her hurt me so you can feed on her regret and guilt, and on
my jealousy. But I am not your plaything nor your servant. I won’t do what
you want.”
I lifted a shoulder and let it drop carelessly. “Someone else, then.” I
skimmed the deck with my eyes, pointing at a Frostblood sailor. “Him. He
won’t resist us.”
The king took my wrists in his hands, squeezing lightly, making me
shudder in revulsion at the searing light under his skin. “No one on this
crew will serve your needs. They will all refuse you, or else they will find
themselves in a cold sea.”
My smile widened, my eyelids heavy. “Your jealousy is delicious.”
I put my chest to his and rubbed back and forth. His light prickled
unpleasantly in my senses, but the bliss of his chaotic emotions was greater
than my distaste.
He sucked in a shortened breath and shoved me away. “I. Won’t. Feed.
You.”
“Pity,” I breathed, enjoying the hatred in his stare. “You hardly know
what to do with everything you feel. You just lock it away under ice. Don’t
you wonder what it would feel like to let your emotions out to play?”
He returned my look but said nothing.
I watched him hungrily. “She likes that about you, all those banked
emotions waiting for a spark to ignite them.”
“But you won’t. You’re wasting your time.”
“If only you weren’t so full of light. The light repels us.”
“Good,” he said emphatically.
So difficult to break. I needed a reaction, a loss of control, a spiraling
descent into stimulus and response that had nothing to do with reason.
“Your face is scarred. You were handsome once, but no more.”
The muscles around his eyes tightened, a subtle tell of surprise. “She
doesn’t mind, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
I leaned forward, aiming my lips at his ear. He tightened his grip to
keep me back. I laughed and whispered, “She wishes you had never been
burned.”
“Of course she does,” he replied stonily. “She has compassion.”
“She doesn’t like to look at you.”
“I know you’re lying.”
“You disgust her.”
“No.” The light inside him dimmed, then brightened. “She loves me. I
know she does.”
Where his hands gripped me, the light under his skin burned.
“She hates you,” I rasped, furiously trying to wrench away.
“Try harder. You’re only losing ground.”
I swept in for the kill. “She loves the face of the Fireblood prince so
much more than yours.” I peered up at him, watching for a reaction. “Oh, if
only you looked like him, so handsome and golden and perfect. He has
what you will never have: her yearning.”
Something flickered in his expression, but then closed off.
“You told me she wants only me,” he said. “You contradict yourself,
Minax.”
“I am Ruby.”
“You are not. You occupy her body. You poison her mind. But you are
not and will never be her.”
“She is tired of fighting. She has been alone too long with shadows
inside her head. She pushes you away, and you have retreated. She has been
losing this battle since the moment we joined with her. Soon she will be lost
forever.”
He shook his head, breathing deeply through his nose. His light
dimmed.
“You know that part is true,” I said with deep satisfaction. “I do not
lie.”
“You lie as easily as you breathe,” he said, his voice rough with
emotion.
“Oh, what is that you’re feeling? Despair?” I sucked in a lungful of
stingingly cold air and sighed with pleasure. “The most beautiful of all
emotions.”
“Ruby, I know you’re in there.” His voice sharpened. “Fight your way
out!”
“But, Arcus,” I replied silkily, “it is me. I am Ruby.”
“Give her back to me,” he said, shaking me. “Let her go.”
I laughed, overflowing with joy, then leaned in and whispered,
“Never.”
“Ruby, listen to me. This thing will take you over if you let it. Believe
that you’re stronger! Focus on the love that I know is in your heart. Know
you can do this!”
Something unpleasant tightened my chest, but I shoved it away. “This
is who we are.”
His shoulders sagged.
Then his eyes shifted up, away from me to something—someone—
behind. A blast of pain split the back of my head. The faint embers of
setting sun flickered out.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The next day, the wind all but died. Fog descended, muffling sound.
Sunlight couldn’t penetrate the soupy mist.
We ghosted through the water, tacking into a feeble headwind. The
word becalmed was repeated in hushed tones with looks of dread. If the
wind died completely, we’d be dead in the water. A sailor’s worst
nightmare.
After breakfast, I came on deck for the first time since my “episode” as
Marella had called it. Tiny fog droplets hissed as they hit my skin.
Jaro joined me at the starboard rail. I was touched to see that he didn’t
seem afraid of me. “I don’t like it. It should be too cold for fog this far
north.”
“It’s ice crystals.” I turned my hand, watching them melt. “The fog is
frozen.”
“A bad omen,” he muttered, shaking his head as he walked away.
The tension wound tighter as the day went on; partly because the
visibility was so poor, we had lost track of our scout ship the previous night.
As an effective and useful distraction, Brother Thistle and Seva—
Frostblood and Fireblood masters—drilled the crew on how to make
frostfire. They didn’t actually use their gifts, since it would have been far
too dangerous, instead practicing the level of intense concentration that
would be needed. It was funny to see them scrunch up their brows, eyes
closed, while lifting their arms and directing their hands at invisible targets.
As the day went on, I started to feel invisible. I stayed on deck for
hours waiting for Arcus to appear, but he never did. Kai didn’t look at me
once, and I couldn’t bring myself to approach him.
Just before the first dogwatch, a sudden breeze cleared tendrils of fog
away, revealing a black sail, nearly on top of us.
Kai shouted, “Beat to quarters! Clear for action!”
There was a flurry of activity as sailors secured barrels, coiled ropes,
and scrambled into the rigging adjusting sails. Seva rushed past, taking her
place at the rail with the other Fireblood masters. Frostbloods positioned
themselves at intervals, ready to douse any fires. In the confusion, I
couldn’t see Arcus.
The other two ships in our armada were barely visible on either side.
Everything inside me wound tight. Had they been following us, or had
we sailed right into their territory? The latter made more sense. We were
close to the Isle of Night. There would be large numbers of Servants here.
Our ships had prepared for this, but with everything that had happened, the
imminent threat hadn’t seemed real.
Two ships appeared in the mist, the third’s sails barely visible as it split
off from the others.
I joined the Fireblood masters at the rail, waiting for the enemy to
come within range.
On Kai’s order, we projected streams of flame. Their ship returned fire.
Our Frostbloods blocked with frost. A gout of fire made it past our
defenses, setting a barrel alight.
One of the enemy ships’ mainsails caught, then their foresail, with
small fires springing up all over their deck. The captain shouted orders and
his crew sprang into action. The burning ship heeled as it put about. We
continued our onslaught, while the enemy crew emptied buckets of water
on their deck. No Frostbloods on that ship, then.
The fog thickened.
Meanwhile, a second enemy ship had aimed at us, its bow straight
abeam, its shrouds bellied out with a sudden tailwind, as if a wind had
intervened to run the ship straight at us, broadside. Our masters sent out
streams of flame, but even if their sails burned, that wouldn’t stop their
momentum. The impact would surely split our hull.
As Kai spun the wheel, the crew worked the sails to move us out of the
way. The Fireblood masters and I made room as Frostbloods lined the rail.
“Freeze!” Kai shouted. “Now!”
Arms out, they began freezing the water between us and the other ship.
Ice built up in layers until it formed a barrier several feet wide. The enemy
ship slowed but continued forward, its hull plowing through the ice.
I spotted Arcus among the others. His gift wasn’t back to full strength
after our escape from the Servants’ keep. I watched him worriedly.
“Enemy to starboard!” the lookout shouted.
A third ship had maneuvered itself on our other side, careening at us
through layers of mist. More Frostbloods rushed to repeat the same defense
on that side, freezing the water to slow the enemy’s approach.
Kai jumped to the rail, joining the other masters, adding his fire to
theirs. In seconds, the two enemy sails raged with flames. Their sails
caught, and burning sections of yardarms fell to the deck. But still, their
momentum brought them closer.
Even if the ice slowed them enough that they wouldn’t crush us, we’d
find ourselves boarded within minutes. The Servants’ stolen Tempesian
ships were larger than the Errant Princess, their crews probably double
ours. We’d be captured or killed. Judging by the number of survivors of
their other attacks, our chances of survival were slim.
As orders were shouted from the quarterdeck, I watched it all as if
from a distance.
“We can’t stop them,” I murmured, struggling not to give into terror.
The Minax fed off my fear.
Defend! Fight! Kill!
I flashed back to a memory of my demonstration in the arena, when I’d
used the Minax to possess and frighten the Frost Court. The Minax had
essentially broken itself into pieces, all part of a whole.
The Minax urged me on. Fight! Kill! But the very fact that it was
encouraging that course of action made it suspect. If I used it too much,
would it take me over?
I shook my head, trying to think. There was no other way. I had to do
whatever I could to stop the Servants. But if I was going to break the Minax
into pieces, I needed to be able to direct those pieces. I couldn’t risk losing
control the way I almost had in the arena when the bloodlust would have
taken me over if not for Kai.
Two ships. Impossible. I couldn’t divide my attention between two
ships. If only someone else could wield the creature with me, could help me
direct it when its shadowy form was dispersed over such a large area.
Marella.
The moment her name popped into my head, I was scrambling down
the companionway and pounding toward her cabin.
She’d survived the Minax’s possession longer than anyone else, aside
from me. Growing up hearing the whispers from the throne of Fors must
have given her a level of tolerance. She was the one who had first proved
that the Minax could be controlled—albeit by using the creature against me
in Sudesia.
Could I trust her? Could she bear to let one of the creatures touch her
mind again?
No time for doubt.
As I swung her door open, her hand flew to her throat.
“What is it?” she asked, sitting up on the bed with wide, frightened
eyes. So different from her previously fearless personality.
“Remember when I said we’d send Eurus packing?”
“Yes,” she answered hesitantly.
I motioned briskly. “Now’s our chance. Come on!”
TWENTY-EIGHT
MARELLA CLUTCHED HER CLOAK closed with one thin hand as she
followed me up the steps, shivering at the blast of cold as we reached the
deck.
“We’re under attack,” I said, leading her to a spot by the starboard rail.
“On both sides. I need you to help me wield the Minax to control the enemy
sailors. I’ll command one half of the creature against one ship while you
take the other.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” she said, sounding both
annoyed and terrified.
“The Minax can possess more than one person at a time, but I’m not
sure I can control it over that large an area.” I waved a hand in frustration,
willing her to understand my frantic stream of words. “I need you to
connect with its mind and make sure it doesn’t get out of hand on one ship,
while I focus on the other.”
“No!” she said, fists clenched. “I’m not strong enough! It will control
me.”
“You’re stronger now!”
“I’m not!”
With darting glances, I took stock of our enemies’ positions. The two
ships had slowed to a crawl in the ice, but they still moved toward us. Their
Firebloods were melting the ice. They weren’t yet close enough for our
forces to attack.
Our other two ships were under attack nearby. Fire and ice flashed
through the air. Screams echoed eerily through the fog.
I spotted Lucina on deck. Her eyes were closed, her face pointed up at
the sky, her lips moving in prayer.
When I called her name, she opened her eyes. I beckoned her over. She
looked distressed and frustrated as she rushed toward us. “There’s no
sunlight! I can do nothing without sun.”
“Never mind that now. Do you have any light left? Inside you?”
“Yes,” she replied, curious.
Quickly, I explained my idea. Lucina turned her assessing stare on
Marella.
“Can you help her?” I asked.
She nodded and put her hands out, palms up. She met and held
Marella’s eyes with her own. “You trust me by now, don’t you, my lady?”
Marella hesitated, then nodded. “You gave me hope when we were
locked in that cell. You used sunlight to heal me.”
Lucina smiled. “That’s right. So you know this sensation already. Hold
on to me. When you feel the Minax gaining power over you, take some
light from me to fight it back. We can do this. Together.”
Marella looked frightened, but she nodded and took Lucina’s hands.
“Can you control the creature?” Lucina asked, searing me with an
intense golden stare. “Don’t try this if you’re not sure.”
I was only too aware that I’d lost control the previous day. But we
were fighting for our lives. There were people I cared about here, people I
loved who would die if I didn’t do something. I desperately hoped that
connection, that love, would give me control. The last thing I wanted to do
was hurt someone again.
“I can do this,” I told her.
She nodded. “We are ready.” She conveyed so much with her
expression and her tone. Confidence. Faith. Reassurance.
A scream rent the air as a plume of enemy fire hit one of our sailors in
the rigging. She lost her grip and fell to the deck. Her cries echoed in the
fog. Someone ran to help.
This meant the enemy ships were so close they were within range. And
we were within their range, too.
More injured, more cries. Impossible to concentrate. The Minax had
woken fully to feed on the pain and terror.
“Marella,” I said, “help me.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. She knew what to do.
“Return to me,” she whispered.
I imagined the Minax being separated into two parts. A stabbing pain
filled my chest. I had the agonizing sensation of my heart being rent in two
as the shadows divided.
One shadow left my skin and sank into Marella’s raised hand. When it
disappeared, she took a deep, shuddering breath and grabbed Lucina’s hand
again.
“That ship’s yours.” I pointed starboard. “I’ll take the other. Do
whatever you need to do to stop it, or at least create chaos. Target their
helmsman. Incapacitate their Firebloods if you can.”
I rushed to port, near Arcus. He panted with exertion as he added more
ice to the water. Our enemies waited with eager eyes, holding hooks with
net bridges attached. In seconds they’d be close enough to throw the nets
and swarm over to our deck to slaughter us.
Clutching the cold rail with one hand, I turned the palm of my free
hand toward their ship. The Minax shot out like an arrow from a longbow,
the shadow disappearing into one of the sailors. He dropped his hold on the
net. Then the creature leaped into the next sailor, making him do the same.
Their captain screamed at them, furious and confused.
“Disperse,” I ordered it, showing it what I wanted with a mental
image.
A miasma of shadow spread out, extending until it covered everyone
on the main deck. Its strength was diluted, but it was exerting influence
over all of them at once. I might not be able to focus enough to coordinate
their actions, but I could confuse them.
“Fog their minds.”
Orders were misunderstood or ignored. The wheel turned sharply.
Their stern slid starboard, offering us the full broadside of the ship. Our
Fireblood masters wasted no time taking advantage of this easier target. As
their ship turned, their sails flapped, no longer catching the wind at the best
angle. The sailors in the rigging hesitated, struggling to remember what to
do.
The captain of the other ship stared at me with burning eyes.
Somehow, he’d figured out that I was the cause of this.
“Target the girl with black hair,” he commanded, pointing at me.
One of his Firebloods managed to obey. Flames roared toward me. My
other hand came up and met that flame with my own, redirecting the
inferno up and back toward the other ship.
Flames engulfed their deck. Terrible screams.
The Minax fed on the glut of fear and pain all around us. My fire
burned brighter than ever before. Pure, hot exhilaration, feeding me power.
As the shadow and I moved in harmony—command, obey—something
shifted. The separation between myself and the Minax dissolved. I became
both commander and servant, moving in the minds of the sailors without the
intervening step.
I could even feel the other half of the Minax, heard Marella
commanding it, felt it obeying her. I floated into the consciousness of all
our victims. Mortal toys, ours to play with.
Moving in their minds like gossamer silk, I told them to jump ship.
Watched as they stepped to the edge, crawled over the rail, and flung
themselves off.
Falling. Screaming.
The bliss of it.
Irresistible, heady triumph.
Invincible.
No one could ever hurt me again.
I lifted my arms and tilted my head back, letting all that glorious
power surge through me. I was incandescent. Unstoppable.
Almost… divine.
So now you understand.
I blinked, shaking my head. It wasn’t the voice of the Minax I’d heard
—
Eurus’s voice came softly again. Clearer. Finally, you understand.
The Minax’s attention sharpened, listening. My whole body tensed.
“Where are you?” I asked, searching the ships, looking from deck to
deck, from water to sky, all over. “Where are you?”
The east wind blew fiercely, filling sails, rocking the ships like cradles.
Everywhere.
“I’m killing your followers.” I made three more of them jump over the
side. Trancelike, eyes unblinking, I stared as they fell. Their arms
pinwheeling in the air made me smile.
Eurus laughed joyfully. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
That drew me up short. “You want me to do this?”
“Power over these mortal creatures is your birthright. Your inheritance.
I gave this to you as a gift.”
A stillness came into my mind. An image. Two paths, just like in my
dream of the tunnels. I could choose the one I’d intended to follow, or I
could choose a brave new path, uncharted.
“Take the night throne,” Eurus invited silkily. “Take your due.”
An onyx throne rose up in my imagination, all sharp corners and
polished surfaces.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Eurus asked. “See how it shines.”
A figure appeared on the throne, with long black hair and amber eyes.
“Me?” I asked. “How?”
“You are not quite ready. Not yet.”
“How do I become ready?”
“Are you brave enough to do what needs to be done?” he asked.
“How?” I demanded.
“Kill them all!”
Throwing my arms out, I sent streams of fire at the Servants’ ships,
setting the hulls ablaze. I forced more of their people to jump.
Screams filled the twilight.
“Ruby!” Arcus’s voice in my ear, his arm around my waist, drawing
me back. “Enough!”
I shuddered in reaction to his touch, loving and hating the contact. Too
much light! Familiar, welcome. Repugnant! Safe.
Snapping back to myself, shaking my head to clear it, I sent one more
command to the Minax. “Return to me.”
The shadows arrowed back into my heart. I gasped at the sharp burn of
its presence. Leaning against the rail, I watched the flames rising from the
Servants’ ships. The crews were dead or dying.
Horror threatened to crash over me, a storm wave I couldn’t survive.
I shook my head in denial. I couldn’t think about anything, not yet. I
pulled out of Arcus’s arms and ran to Marella. When I put out my hand, she
took it immediately.
“Return to me,” I repeated, and the rest of the Minax moved without
hesitation into my fingers. Pain bit into my chest as the two halves rejoined.
I bent over and rubbed the aching spot over my heart. When the pain
eased, I straightened, allowing myself to bask a little in relief and
satisfaction. We had controlled the creature. We had done it!
Marella’s eyes held a gleam of feverish excitement, and she wore a
small smile of triumph. I had a feeling my expression looked very much
like hers.
“She needs rest,” Lucina said, her tone brusque and disapproving,
which wasn’t fair considering that we had just won. She put a hand under
Marella’s elbow and hustled her toward the companionway as if eager to
get away from me. Or was I imagining that? Was the Minax making me see
things that weren’t there?
As the euphoria wore off, exhaustion pulled at every muscle and bone,
and I swayed.
But cold hands were there, ready to catch me, closing over my
shoulders in a protective grip.
Afraid to look at Arcus, of what he might see in my face, I merely
leaned into his strength.
I had become the Minax. Eurus had spoken, had told me what to do to
prepare for his throne. I had followed his orders without resisting. Without
question.
A shiver ran through me, and Arcus’s arms tightened.
But I was in control, I told myself desperately. I was in control.
The muffled strains of Lucina’s voice came through the door. “We
cannot wait!”
I stood outside Brother Thistle’s cabin, my ear to his door. Brother
Thistle and Lucina had disappeared inside while Kai supervised repairs to
the ship. I wasn’t invited. Which made me all the more determined to know
what they were saying.
“We dare not go to the Isle of Night before the Tempesian navy
arrives,” Brother Thistle said. “For all we know, there are many more ships
carrying hundreds of Servants in nearby waters and we cannot stop them
all. And we need the Sudesian fleet as well. Both Frostbloods and
Firebloods in strong numbers to make frostfire.”
“Frostfire is a stopgap,” Lucina argued, clearly annoyed. “It merely
stuns the creatures.”
“Which may be necessary,” Brother Thistle said.
“Stunning the Minax won’t make a bit of difference if their cell door is
open!” she replied. “The Gate must be repaired, and Ruby is the only one
who can make sure it is never opened again. We must get to the Gate soon,
before she is completely lost. Did you see her today?”
“I saw,” Brother Thistle said. He sounded… almost sad. Or
disappointed? I wanted to burst through the door and scream at him. How
dare you judge me? I saved us all!
I shook off the distracting impulses and struggled to hear. Lucina was
saying something about Eurus. “He could be directing her actions even
now. You have no idea how powerful he is!” She added something in a
lower voice. I couldn’t make out the words.
“Far from it,” Brother Thistle said. “I know her, flaws and all. She
would not turn as easily as you think.”
Lucina sounded sad but with an edge of steel as she replied, “He will
do anything to turn her to his will. You underestimate him at your peril.”
Brother Thistle’s reply was too quiet to hear. I pressed my ear harder to
the door, frustrated. Why couldn’t they speak up?
“She’s right, you know.”
I jerked upright and spun around. Marella leaned against the wall, arms
crossed. “You’re not the only one who listens at keyholes.”
“She’s wrong to think I’m so weak,” I whispered adamantly. “I saved
us. We did, you and I, together.”
“And I’m still feeling the effects, Ruby.” She swallowed, closing her
eyes tight. “I know you’re too strong, though. I can’t take the Minax from
you. And for that, I’m thankful.”
“You would try to steal the Minax if you could? Even after all this
time?”
“Even now.”
I put my hand to the wall, turning away while I digested that. The
Minax soaked up her longing, her despair. I felt it in my bones.
I straightened. “They’re wrong, though. I’m not losing myself to it. For
the first time, I felt completely in control of it.”
“You felt that way,” she pointed out. “But were you wielding the
Minax, or was it wielding you?”
Fear struck a direct blow, my pulse quickening. Was I playing into
Eurus’s hands? He had wanted me to kill his own followers. To darken my
blood even further? It didn’t make sense unless it was all part of his larger
plan for me.
Maybe he’d even sent those ships for that express purpose, so I’d
defend and kill, sinking deeper into the pit he’d dug for me. I shivered.
Maybe going to the Isle of Night was the worst thing we could possibly do.
But if we didn’t, who else would repair the Gate? It was me or no one.
We had to go.
In a secret part of my heart, I knew that nothing would keep me from
the Isle of Night now. I was drawn there, filled with anticipation just like
the Minax. Dread was nothing more than a vague flutter in the back of my
mind. Caution was a distant memory.
Marella’s pansy eyes grew somber. “You’re lost, Ruby. So much
further gone than I ever was. Do you even remember who you were
before?”
She gestured to my wrists. I looked down, turning my hands up.
My blood ran black, as inky dark as soot in both wrists.
I searched my mind, struggling to recall the person I was, how I’d felt,
how I’d thought before the Minax. I tried to think of Arcus, of my mother,
of all the people like Anda and her daughter who I was trying to protect.
I couldn’t bring a clear memory forward.
Panic made my pulse trip, my eyes widen in realization. I looked at
Marella, desperate for a moment before the Minax drew the feeling away.
She gave me a sad smile. “I didn’t think so.”
TWENTY-NINE
WE REACHED THE ISLE OF NIGHT three days later. Sunset streaked the
sky in the early afternoon—days were short this far north. After dusk,
ribbons of color danced across the horizon in a dazzling display.
Or so I heard the sailors remarking.
“All those colors,” Jaro said in awe, gesturing with a beefy hand. “The
gods put on a show for the north.” He turned to me. “It’s a sight to see, isn’t
it?”
“Beautiful,” I lied. There were no colors for me. I saw only bands of
gray.
Kai had the helm, his eyes never straying toward me, not once in days.
His distrust of me was clear by his silence, and I regretted it, but didn’t
know what to do to bridge the gap between us. As he steered around rocks
like overgrown stalagmites poking up from the seabed, the crew searched
for signs of the enemy. We’d expected to encounter more of the Servants’
ships when we arrived. We saw none.
“Where are they?” I asked Lucina, joining her at the rail. Anyone who
wasn’t busy with preparations had come on deck to see the island of legend.
“Waiting,” she said with a frown. “They have been here, and will
return.”
A deep stretch of beach fringed the bay. Lacy white fans of foam
opened over and over, interweaving and replacing each other as the tide
strained onto the fine black sand. Snow-dusted cliffs showed glimpses of
black rock underneath.
We anchored and rowed to shore in small boats, the splash of many
oars making a discordant heartbeat. A somber mood held most of the sailors
silent, the only speech instructions or quiet orders.
When the boat scraped the shore, I stepped into the shallows.
The soldiers and sailors snaked in a line across the beach and up a cliff
path, everyone laden with their share of food, water, blankets, weapons, or
supplies. I kept turning to scan the horizon, longing to see the white sails of
Sudesian or Tempesian ships coming to help, but the sea remained empty.
Lucina insisted we could no longer wait, so we had to hope the navies
would arrive when they were needed. Or that we wouldn’t need them after
all.
When we reached level ground at the cliff top, I took a moment to
assess the land—a flat expanse of snow-covered lava field leading to
volcanoes in the distance. A harsh, rugged island softened by sparkling
white.
As we leaned into the arctic winds, I wrestled with what was left of my
conscience. We had finally reached our ultimate destination, but I still
hadn’t told Arcus the details of Lucina’s plan. Had she? I didn’t think so. If
he knew, he’d be trying to talk me out of it. No, that was too mild. He
would forbid me outright. He would never let me go.
Doubts plagued me, and there was no one I could talk to. Lucina
thought I was almost lost. Brother Thistle hadn’t spoken to me in days. I’d
alienated Kai, and probably horrified Arcus with my murderous display of
violence during our battle with the Servants. He seemed to be keeping his
distance, and I couldn’t blame him. If I were him, I wouldn’t trust me,
either.
Still, the thought of him no longer wanting to be close to me hurt
deeply.
The moon rose, a misshapen silver coin hovering low in the sky. My
hands and feet were chilled numb by the time we reached an outcropping
that formed a horseshoe of shelter from the wind. Caves cut into the rock
provided further protection. We made camp, eating dried meat and sipping
water from leather flasks.
Our wool blankets didn’t keep out the cold, but I had my heat to warm
me. I couldn’t sleep, so I listened to the snores of our companions and tried
not to think about what would happen in the morning.
I turned toward a quiet scuffle of footsteps. A tall silhouette
approached, then touched my shoulder in the dark. Arcus bent close. “Come
with me.”
Surprised, I sat up, wrapping my blanket around my shoulders.
Hesitating for only a moment, I followed his moving form by the cold blue
moonlight.
When we reached the mouth of the cave, he said, “Come on, Lady
Firebrand. We’re going for a stroll.”
“We are?” I looked around at the barren landscape, shivering in the
punishing wind, then back at him, trying to assess his sudden shift in mood.
His tone said that nothing was wrong, even though we’d barely spoken
since he’d had to drag me back from killing a ship full of enemies.
“Lucina told me about something I thought you’d like to see.” He
turned to follow the path, not looking back, as if sure I would follow.
Which of course I would. Putting aside my confusion, I followed him
over winding, rocky terrain, between rocks and over hills and past frozen
rivers until I was sure we were thoroughly lost. Scouts had combed this area
of the island and pronounced it clear, so I wasn’t worried about running into
the enemy, but the strange, barren landscape still unnerved me. We didn’t
talk for a long time, but Arcus often put his hand out to help me over
obstacles and rough ground, his expression placid in the silver moonlight.
“What are you trying to show me?” I finally asked, deciding to mirror
his tone, as if everything were normal. “The effects of frostbite?”
“You’ll be warm soon.”
Doubtful. Unless he planned to throw me into one of the volcanoes. I
stopped. “Are you taking me to a volcano?”
“Close.”
We crested a small hill and descended to an area of flat ground.
“Ah, here,” he said, striding toward a jumble of rocks, a cloud of white
steam hovering overtop.
Arcus removed his cloak, then his sword, then sat to pull off his boots.
I put my hands on my hips, watching as he dropped one boot, then the
other. “What are you doing?”
“Bathing. Or rather, I’m going to soak in unpleasantly hot water to
please my lady.”
The term my lady sent a pleasant shiver through me. That didn’t sound
much like he hated me or couldn’t forgive me, which filled me with relief.
Moving closer, I saw that the steam rose from a roughly circular pool
bordered by large rocks.
“What is this?” I dropped my blanket and unfastened my cloak. I could
already feel the heat coming off the water.
“A hot spring. It’s heated by lava running underground. Lucina gave
me directions.”
“Bless that woman,” I said, meaning it. “I haven’t soaked in hot water
since… since we were in the capital!” Far too long. Bathing on the ship
consisted of warmed seawater, usually with a basin and cloth.
I took off my boots and started on my stockings. A flash of bare skin
caught my attention. Arcus removing his tunic and linen shirt and…
Oh. His bare chest, sculpted and muscular, with curves and hollows
leading to a flat stomach.
He grinned, reaching out to close my open mouth with a finger under
my chin. “Hurry up.”
“Hmm?” It was unfair to have shoulders that broad. His arms bulged
with muscle. I couldn’t tear my gaze away.
His grin widened, his eyes crinkling. “Don’t be shy.”
He turned away, drew off his trousers, and stepped into the water.
Fwuuhh. The air left my lungs in a rush. I would remember the view of
that backside for as long as I lived.
I shook myself, pulling off one stocking, then the other. “Me? Shy?”
Well, maybe about this. But as this could be our last night together, I
was determined to make the most of it. It seemed Arcus felt the same way,
based on the fact that he’d brought me to a secluded pool and was currently
naked. Maybe I hadn’t needed to worry about his forgiveness at all.
He sucked in a breath as he lowered himself into the steaming water,
sinking shoulder deep. Then he turned to face me, leaned back against a
rock, and watched expectantly.
“Fine, maybe I am a bit shy,” I admitted, hands on the hem of my
tunic. “Turn around.”
He turned his head away. I whipped off my tunic, leggings, and
underclothes as fast as I could, stepping readily into the steaming water.
“Ah, glorious!” I moaned, once everything lower than my shoulders
was safely covered by water and steam.
Arcus turned back to face me, his grin gone, his eyes hooded.
“Did you peek?” I asked suspiciously.
“No!” His eyes lingered on the spot where water covered my breasts.
“Maybe a bit.”
I hit the side of my hand against the surface of the pool, splashing him
in the face. He laughed and splashed back.
“Wicked Frostblood,” I groused.
“Wicked Fireblood. Like you didn’t watch me.”
“Hmph. And you didn’t even turn around for me, did you? That was
selfish.”
He laughed heartily. “You’re a menace, you know that?”
I splashed him again. “You love it.”
His eyes softened, his smile crooked. “Yes, I do.”
I dunked my head under the water, massaging my scalp with my
fingers, then resurfacing.
I thought you were angry with me, I wanted to say as I watched him
lounge against the rock, his head tilted back, his eyes closed. I worried you
could never forgive me for what I’ve become. I was sure you were afraid of
me now.
But those things would break the serene bubble that had formed over
our little paradise. So instead, I murmured the most inconsequential thing
that came to mind: “I wish we had soap.”
“Ah.” He glided toward his pile of clothes and produced a sliver of
soap. I immediately took it and rubbed it between my palms.
“Lavender and mint,” I said, pleased and surprised. “Is this Brother
Gamut’s soap?”
He nodded, watching me with a contented expression. “I know how
much you like it.”
I took a deep pull of the scent into my lungs, feeling relaxed for the
first time in… I couldn’t remember how long. Happiness buzzed inside me
like a thousand sparkling stars. We were here, Arcus and I together, and his
gaze was hot as the water, his voice like deep music, and he had brought me
my favorite soap.
“Turn around completely,” I instructed, hiding a smile. “No peeking.”
He smirked at me, but he turned his back, and I lathered my hair and
body, rinsed, then floated over to him.
His body jerked when my soapy hands touched his back.
“Stay still,” I ordered.
His skin was warm from the water. I took my time, lathering my hands
and setting the soap down on a rock at the edge of the water before reaching
up to cup his shoulders. I savored the strength in his arms as I slid my palms
down, then back up to his neck, letting my fingertips explore the muscles
there, massaging for a minute before gliding my hands down on either side
of his spine, feeling the smooth skin covering ropey muscles. Strength and
power, so carefully contained, even more attractive because he was
unfailingly gentle unless forced to fight.
He was a protector, I realized. That was his nature. Gentle to those
who wouldn’t harm him. Unfettered with anyone who threatened him or
those under his protection.
I wasn’t so different, or at least, that’s how I wanted to be. That’s why
I would do what was necessary when dawn came.
But no thoughts of that now. I meant to savor my last few hours with
Arcus.
My throat was dry, my pulse rushing, skin alive from messages
received through my hands about the shape and feel of him, so enticing, so
perfect to me. It was a struggle not to just press myself against his back and
kiss him senseless. But I didn’t want to do anything that would make him
stop me, set me away from him with cooling words, the way he always did.
So I restrained myself. I picked up the soap for more lather, then my
hands found his sides, discovering as he twitched that he was ticklish under
his arms. I smiled, then slid my hands down to frame his waist.
“Have you ever thought about…” he said a little breathlessly, taking a
second to swallow before continuing, “what our lives will look like after
this?”
My chest constricted. So much for not thinking about the future.
“Of course,” I said lightly.
“And what do you see?” he asked, turning his head a bit toward me.
I closed my eyes, searching for what to say. Something optimistic.
Something warm and bright, something about how wonderful it would be.
Instead, I blurted, “Your court will never accept me.”
“They will.”
That tone again. The king had declared it and it would be so. I rolled
my eyes. “How do you know?”
“Because there are some things I can live without, but you are not one
of them.”
My throat closed, my eyes stinging. My heart filled with something
sweet, so sweet that I couldn’t even sense the darkness there.
“You are so beautiful,” I said in awe, watching as a shard of silver
moonlight outlined his shape against the black sky. He was just too perfect
for words.
“So are you, Ruby.” The emotion in his voice made my insides clutch.
“You are the most beautiful thing in the world to me.”
Oh, too much. I closed my eyes, forcing the tears back. I didn’t want to
waste this moment weeping. Time enough for that later.
Even so, one tear escaped down my cheek. Arcus turned just then,
sucking in a breath. “Are you crying, love?”
“No.” I smiled at him through the tears. “Maybe a bit.”
He took the soap from my hands and set it down. When he held my
hands again, his were trembling.
“I have something I’ve wanted to say to you for a long time. I would
have.” He swallowed. “I meant to.”
He sounded as if he couldn’t catch his breath. He was scared. My heart
lurched.
“Say it,” I said, squeezing his hands, looking up at him encouragingly.
I swallowed, too. “Or we could say it at the same time.” I lifted a brow.
He gave a shaky laugh. “No, I’m not that much of a coward.” One
more shuddering breath.
“Are you saying I am?” I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping to tease
some of the nerves from him. “Since I haven’t said it yet, either?”
“Hush, woman. Let me say this.” But it had worked. He was smiling
warmly.
I waited.
“I love you,” he said on an exhale, staring into my eyes. “Ruby.” He
lifted my hands and pressed his lips to my knuckles, a fierce, hard kiss for
each one.
Bands of steel seemed to wrap themselves around my chest. I couldn’t
breathe. The tears spilled down my cheeks.
“I love you, too, Arcus.”
A crease appeared between his brows, his eyes overflowing with
something stark and vulnerable. It was an ardent, almost pained expression
that showed he was feeling a great deal more than he knew what to do with.
I squeezed his hands again, loving that part of him. Loving the way he gave
his whole heart, how he felt things so deeply, how only I knew how hard he
worked to keep it all rigidly contained.
The moment was so poignant, almost as if he knew we would have to
say good-bye tomorrow.
No. I forced the thought away.
His hands, still unsteady, framed my face. His lips brushed over my
cheeks, my eyelids, my forehead, finally settling on my waiting mouth,
moving sweetly, taking the time to tease before pressing hard. I parted my
lips on a ragged sigh, giving him back everything he was giving to me. All
his love was in that kiss. All of mine. Unbearably sweet. Almost painful.
“I need you,” I said, feeling the thud of my heart against his.
Instantly, the Minax woke. The feelings that had seemed so right a
moment before spun rapidly out of my control, becoming something else,
something frightening.
Oh no. Not now. My stomach lurched with disgust. For the creature to
intrude now of all times. The thought was revolting.
I let go of Arcus, falling backward in the water, pushing my feet
against his thighs for leverage, stopping when I’d reached the edge. I
clutched one of the rocks, staring back at him over the distance that
suddenly seemed much wider than a few feet.
“I’m sorry, Ruby.” He sounded full of remorse, and it made my heart
ache. “I was selfish to bring you here.”
I shook my head. “No, I needed this. Needed to be close to you. And I
was afraid after what I said and did on the ship that you were repulsed by
me.”
“Never.”
“I wouldn’t blame you. It was the side of me you hate.”
“I could never hate you.” He said it with such conviction, I couldn’t
help but believe him. “I should never have said that. It wasn’t you I couldn’t
love. I love all parts of you, even the ones that drive me to distraction. I hate
what that creature does to you. To us.”
I looked away, overcome with regret that we couldn’t be together in
the way I longed to be. “Me too.”
After a minute, I looked back to find him watching me with a yearning
I knew must be reflected in my own eyes. His throat bobbed. “I want to
touch you so badly. I wish I could show you how much you mean to me.”
I wanted him to touch me, too, but the Minax had ruined any chance of
that. It had tried to take a beautiful, intimate moment, intending to use my
emotions to gain power over me. I wouldn’t allow that. I wouldn’t allow it
to ruin this memory.
“You gave me your heart.” I turned to face him fully. “The rest… well,
we’ll have to wait until this is over. After tomorrow, it will be. And then
you’ll be mine, and I swear I’ll never let you go.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “When this is over, nothing will stop
me from binding you to me in any way I can. I want as much of you as
you’re willing to give, whatever that is.”
“That’s easy, Arcus. Everything.”
THIRTY
OUR FORCES EXPLODED INTO ACTION, rushing from the Gate toward the
battlefield.
Arcus watched the other generals disappear along the twisting, rocky
path, then turned back to me. “I have to go with them.” He stared at me
with feverish intensity as he took my shoulders and pressed a hard kiss to
my lips, crushing me to him for a moment before setting me gently back.
He opened his mouth as if he meant to say more, then jammed his lips
together and, with a last all-encompassing look, strode off.
Paralyzed by indecision, I looked from the Gate to the rock formation
that formed a rampart over the pass. It rose twenty or so feet above the lava
field where the battle was taking place. Without conscious thought, I started
toward the rampart.
“Ruby!” Lucina called from behind me.
I swung back toward the Gate, where she stood waiting.
“You can do more good in the Obscurum than in the battle,” she said.
She was right. If I completed my task successfully, we could stop
Eurus in his tracks. But Arcus was risking his life. It felt wrong to leave him
now. It felt wrong not to be defending the pass alongside the Fireblood
masters.
I turned a desperate look on Lucina.
She gave a resigned sigh. “However, you might have a harder time
fighting the darkness if you are worried about your king. Do what you need
to do.”
“I just need to see that he’s in position.”
“Hurry!”
I nodded and rushed toward the rampart, scaling the bumpy rock that
provided a kind of natural staircase to the top. A dozen masters were spread
out from the cliff to my right to another hump of rock that formed a barrier
on the left. The pass was like a doorway below us, the opening less than
twenty feet wide, though the rampart was more than double that in width.
Overnight, Frostblood soldiers had quickly built ice barricades at five points
on the battlefield to slow the enemy.
The battle rippled below like a moving tapestry under a low, gray sky.
Kai was also on the rampart, shouting orders, as he was in charge of the
Firebloods. He stood about ten feet away from me with a few masters
between us.
I saw Arcus with his generals almost directly below, along with
Brother Thistle. With Frostbloods below and Firebloods above, they formed
the last line of defense at the pass. There was a cacophony of commands
and movement as our forces moved into place.
On the plain below, some three hundred of our forces faced off against
more than double the number of Servants. They were moving onto the
battlefield from the direction of the beach, pikemen in tight formation at the
front, archers behind. Outnumbered, and more could be on their way. Our
best hope was to hold them off until the Tempesian navy arrived.
But we had no guarantee our reinforcements were coming. I watched
Arcus hopelessly. I wanted to stay near him, to provide cover from above if
needed. But I should go back to the Gate.
Just then, enemy pikemen crashed into our front lines with the force of
a storm wave. Our interlocking shield wall—round shields held in a tight
formation by the Frostblood front line—held for the first strike, and the
second, but the third felled soldiers at two points. The wall was reinforced
with fresh soldiers, and held for another strike. But the Servants, death in
their eyes, came at us relentlessly. Working together with pikes, stabbing
through gaps, and finally through sheer force of numbers, they cleaved an
opening in our defense and poured into the breach. Screams and shouts
ricocheted off rocks and surrounding hills.
Our front lines retreated to the first fallback point—the second-farthest
ice barricade. That put the enemy in range for me and the most powerful of
the Fireblood masters.
I could no more leave the fight now than I could fly. I had to help.
On Kai’s command, I poured out fire.
Kai and I focused our fire on the Servants’ front lines, knocking the
strongest down first, though our attacks were weakened by distance. Targets
were chosen with care to avoid melting the barricades. Archers stood with
us, raining down flaming arrows, which the masters lit between strikes.
The Servants pummeled our ice wall, most with swords and axes, their
Frostblood soldiers battering at it with ice of their own. They had a few
Firebloods on their side, but their power was nothing compared to the
masters.
Still, in minutes, the first barricade was nearly destroyed. Our shield
wall reassembled behind it. A second fallback point was ready. How long
until they were forced all the way back to the pass? More Servants arrived,
pouring onto the plain with their inky clothing and shining weapons. Again,
I hesitated, remembering my duty to go to the Gate. But I watched Arcus
shouting orders below and thought, I can’t leave him. Not yet.
Kai spoke loud enough to be heard above the chaos. “This would be a
really good time for the Frostblood navy to show up!” He lit arrows for the
archers on either side of him, then directed a column of fire at an enemy
soldier.
“I’d take Queen Nalani’s fleet right now, too,” I answered, seeing a
breach in our second fallback and throwing a bolt of flame. A direct hit,
which turned one of the Servants into a human torch. His scream reached
my ears, even above the tumult. My stomach turned upside down. For a
second, I thought I would vomit.
Numbness eased the nausea. The Minax fed on all this. With every cry
of pain, my blood rushed stronger, faster. With every death, I received a jolt
of power. Especially from the ones that fell by my own hand.
In a moment of clarity, I understood Rasmus’s obsession with the
arena. All that fury and desperation. Pain and fear and grief. A banquet for
the Minax. Power vibrated through me until I trembled with it.
Thoughts of the Gate faded.
I contemplated using the Minax the way I had during the sea battle,
making the Servants turn on one another, fogging their minds or picking
them off one by one. I was sorely tempted, and the Minax urged me on. Yes!
Freedom! Kill!
But I wasn’t sure I could direct it among so much stimulation and
distraction. Our forces were tightly packed. If the creature slipped its leash,
it could kill indiscriminately, not caring if its targets were friend or foe.
So I used my fire, letting the Minax suck power from the battle and
siphon it to me, making me stronger, even as my gift should have run dry.
As the minutes ticked by, a kind of haze settled over me. A mindless
intoxication.
Archers loosed shafts with a rhythmic twang. Frostbloods showered
hail and sleet and icy knives on enemies. Steel flashed like the scales of fish
in sunlit shallows. Soldiers wearing metal helms, leather breastplates, or
chain mail hefted swords, halberds, axes, and maces. Frost and fire spiraled
in bright arcs, ricocheting off shields, piercing armor, and taking lives. The
scents of blood and burned flesh filled the air.
Some of the Servants were ill-equipped, with axes that looked more
suited to chop firewood. Others hefted fishing spears useless for close
combat. Farmers and fishermen, not warriors.
What had Eurus promised these people? Riches? Power?
Did they all worship him? Or had he threatened them? Coerced them?
After a while, I ceased wondering. My muscles ached. My hands
burned. My mind emptied of anything but eliciting the next scream. I
stopped fighting the euphoric rush and allowed it to consume me. It was
easier than letting myself consider the horror of it, the waste of life.
Without the Minax, I would have been sickened. Wrecked.
With the Minax, I felt nothing more than a distant twinge of regret,
easily drowned out by the other sensations crowding my mind and body.
The battle blurred into a sea of movement, losing meaning.
There was a kind of macabre beauty to the ebb and flow of bodies, the
frenzied movements, the prismatic reflections off armor, the passionate,
blood-drenched struggle to survive.
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
I jerked, searching for the owner of that familiar, silky voice. At the
same time, a surge of joyful recognition erupted from the Minax.
Eurus stood on a tall rock formation, above and behind where I stood,
devouring the scene with bright green eyes. No one else seemed to notice
him, their attention on the clash below.
In his current form as an unwelcome guest in Prince Eiko’s body, he
looked much as I remembered: extraordinarily tall and spare, with silver-
streaked black hair, carved cheekbones, and leaf-green eyes. He wore a long
black cloak, which he now filled out, his cheeks not quite so sunken as
when we last met in Sudesia. He appeared to be thriving in his stolen mortal
body.
For a second, the numbness faded. The idea that we could be similar,
two callous observers enjoying the beauty of battle, made my gorge rise.
I warred with myself. I needed to fight, to kill Eurus above all others.
But the Minax struggled inside me, wanting only to get closer to him, to
obey its master.
“Think, Ruby,” Eurus said, shifting his bold gaze to me. Arrogant.
Serene. “You can kill this mortal body, but you cannot extinguish the god
within.”
With a shuddering sense of failure, I let the fire in my palms die. He
was telling the truth, and I knew it. I could kill Prince Eiko’s body, ruining
any chance of saving the mortal man I hoped was still somewhere inside,
and it wouldn’t do any good.
“What do you want?” I demanded, heart punching my ribs, struggling
to contain the Minax. “To gloat? You’re celebrating too soon. Or did you
come here to surrender?”
A smirk curved his lips. “I told you I’d give you one last chance. If
you come with me now, I will call my Servants back, and there will be no
more loss of life. No risk to anyone you care about.”
He glanced pointedly at Kai, then at Brother Thistle and Arcus below.
The implied threat only raised my ire.
“You think I’d agree to sit on your throne, to help you enslave
humanity rather than fight?” I looked at him with disgust. “Why even
bother asking?”
“Is it so hard to understand?” He looked amused. “You are my
progeny, my greatest creation.”
“You might have tampered with my blood, but I am not your
daughter.”
“You’d rather claim your father by blood than a god?” He stared with
disbelief, then waved that away. “Your father was a poor sailor, a commoner
with no gift. Your mother would never have been allowed to marry him.
Their love, which you mortals so revere, was doomed anyway.”
I held my breath, waiting for more. This was no time to indulge my
curiosity, but I couldn’t resist. He’d just told me more than I’d ever learned
about my father. “What was his name?”
Eurus laughed. “All that mattered to me was that his ship was dashed
against rocks and he died while you were but a speck in your mother’s
womb.”
“You did that?” His smug expression confirmed it. My hands fisted.
“You killed him.”
“An east wind can be so unpredictable,” he said, looking even more
amused by my fury. “Your mother’s grief was quite passionate. A strong
draw for the Minax.”
“You did it so she would be more easily overtaken.” My eyes widened.
“You interfered in the mortal world!”
He put a finger to his lips. “Hush. It was an accident, a bad wind. I
didn’t interfere, not directly. And the circumstances provided incentive for
the Minax to leave the Fire King and choose Princess Rota as its host.” He
showed his palms in a helpless gesture. “Such things were out of my
control.”
I scoffed. “You used wind to murder my father, ripped apart two
people who loved each other, just to make me into a Nightblood.”
“Your obsession with virtue pains me.” He pinched the bridge of his
nose between thumb and forefinger. “I grow weary of how obtuse you
mortals can be.”
“If not that, then why did you do it?”
“It’s not mysterious, Ruby. As I told you before, I need you to take the
Nightblood throne, to rule in my stead. I cannot break Neb’s law, but I have
found a way around it. Surely I have made this clear.”
“What is unclear is why you think I’d ever cooperate. My blood
doesn’t determine my fate. I won’t agree to your offer. I’d die first.”
“Think carefully about that. If your mortal body dies while connected
to the Minax, your spirit will be trapped in the Obscurum forever.”
I swallowed, my stomach turning. Before I could tell him I didn’t care,
the wind picked up, lifting battle smoke into swirls in the air.
“Just minutes ago, you reveled in the power of the Minax. I saw the
hunger in your eyes, the satisfaction. You wanted more. The raw energy of
battle and death. That was but a taste of all you could experience. A grain of
salt in an endless feast. Why deny yourself?”
“It’s not mysterious,” I said, throwing his words back at him. “You
want to make mortals into your mindless puppets. I fight for freedom, for
free will.”
“Platitudes and ethos. I offer you the power of a god, and you respond
with moralistic absurdities.” He shook his head, his eyes going cold. “You
disgust me.”
“Mutual,” I said clearly.
He waved a hand at the battle below. “Your forces flounder.”
I checked our position. Our troops had fallen back to the last ice
barrier before the pass.
“We’re not finished yet.”
“Ah, you are waiting for the other ships,” Eurus said, lips curving up
again. “Did you really think I would let them come here?”
Trepidation pierced my confidence. “What do you mean?”
“An east wind is unpredictable, my girl. They could be halfway to the
Coral Isles by now.”
“No!” Why hadn’t we considered this? He could just blow the ships
off course, make sure they never arrived. We’d assumed he wouldn’t use his
powers as a god, but he’d broken Neb’s law before, and no one had caught
him.
He’d gotten away with killing my father, and now he would kill us all
and open the Gate.
Desperation churned through me. Without the Tempesian and Sudesian
fleets, we were lost. We could only hold out so long. Our numbers were
dwindling by the hour. By the minute.
Fire filled my heart. Fear turned into heat. The Minax stoked the
flames, lost in the luscious brew of aggression, determination, hatred, and
resolve.
Closing my eyes, I centered my mind, then reached for the lava under
the earth. It ran throughout the island, heating the hot springs where Arcus
had taken me the night before. I hadn’t mastered my ability to control lava,
but I knew it was there, waiting to be tapped.
And I had the Minax to help me.
In seconds, I felt it. Flowing, bubbling. Lines of red-hot magma
waiting to be pulled to the surface.
I directed the heat, commanded the boiling rock the way I commanded
fire, and lifted it to the surface in the center of the lava field.
The ground shuddered. Stones quaked. Falling rocks showered the
soldiers below, making them scatter. A ridge of black rock buckled in a line
bisecting the lava field, rising, breaking, shattering as the lava climbed.
Magma formed a thick channel, a moat that cut off the Servants’ front
lines from their archers and fresh troops surging from the beach.
A breathless moment passed before our commanders realized what had
happened. When they did, a cheer rose. Arcus looked up at me with a wide
grin. His eyes shone with possessive pride.
Too fatigued even to smile, I just stared back, pouring my love into my
eyes.
Our troops clashed with the Servants’ with renewed force, pushing
them back toward the lava-filled trench, to death.
I turned to Eurus, eyes glowing, heart full of bliss. Triumphant.
“Maybe we don’t need those ships,” I said breathlessly.
He shook his head, nostrils flaring, his eyes desolate of anything but
retribution. “You have exhausted my patience, girl. I gave you ample
chances to see reason. You chose this outcome. Remember that as you rule
the Obscurum. Alone. Forever.”
His body suddenly crumpled as if felled with an unseen blow, landing
on the rock where he’d stood with a final jounce of limbs that settled into
stillness.
What happened? I scanned the ramparts in confusion. Had someone
realized who he really was? Killed him with an unseen arrow? But
everyone was occupied with the fight, the arrows and streams of fire and
frost flowing back and forth unabated.
For a second, it made no sense.
Then the Minax trembled with glee as its attention shifted from Prince
Eiko’s still figure to the battlefield below.
With a sick feeling of dread, I looked down to search for the source of
its feverish joy. Amid the commanders, one of the Frostblood generals, a
stocky figure with silver in his hair, stared up at me with a look of
expectation. The Minax fluttered with eager recognition. The general’s eyes
glittered with bloodlust and triumph as his lip curled in a slow smile, and in
that moment I knew it was Eurus in his body. Blood splatter covered his
face. His sword was outthrust. He had buried the silvery blade in—
My whole body jerked.
No. Not him! No, this isn’t happening!
Screams and shouts erupted from among our commanders. My heart
stopped. Time stopped. I floated in a moment of pure numbness,
disconnected from my body. Vision blurred, breath caught in my throat.
From that moment on, I watched it as if trapped in a bad dream. Pain
shot through my mind and body, wave after wave of agony, shaking the
walls of sanity.
I watched as the other generals seized the killer. Justice was served
with a slice across his throat. His body crumpled to the ground. But it
wasn’t justice. The general had merely been a shell. Eurus had possessed
him, forced his arm to lift the blade and…
Not real not real not real not real
They pulled the sword out, their hands coming to support that strong,
invincible form as they laid him on the ground. Even as I stared, frozen, my
mind put up walls of denial.
No no no no not real not real not real
They unbuckled his leather armor. Blood soaked his tunic underneath.
So much blood. As I stared at his beloved features, the details wouldn’t
come together in my mind. His beautiful ice-blue eyes stared at the sky,
unseeing.
No no not him not real not him NOT HIM
A horrible sound echoed against the cliffs, a keening cry followed by
choking sobs.
I shook and screamed and spoke a litany of broken words I didn’t
recognize as my own.
PART THREE
THIRTY-TWO
DESPAIR. THE MINAX NUMBING IT away. Grief. Too much! Too much!
I rocked back and forth, huddled in a ball. I’d fallen where I stood, on
the stone rampart, praying for oblivion. The battle raged below, but it
wasn’t real. Nothing was real anymore.
“Don’t touch her!” Kai said to the archers, who’d rushed closer when
they heard my screams. “Let me see to her.”
Nothing matters nothing matters not real not real not real
“Ruby?” Kai’s voice, soft, barely audible. His hand, reaching out. I
wanted to slap it away, but I would have to unwrap my arms from around
myself and then I would fly into a million pieces and no one would ever be
able to put me back together again.
Not real not real not real
“Ruby? Let me take you to him.”
I shook my head in frantic denial.
“They’re bringing his body somewhere safe…”
His body? No! I shook my head harder. Not real not real not real
“….and we’ve sent someone to get Lucina.”
Lucina! That name broke through the chaos. Lucina was a healer!
I looked up at Kai, meeting his eyes with desperate hope. He looked so
devastated, I had to look away.
“Come on,” he said gently, bending to take my arm. I let him pull me
to my feet.
“Lucina,” I said hoarsely on a wave of incandescent pain.
“Yes, we’re going to see her,” he reassured me. “Come with me.”
Somehow we made it from the rampart to the area in front of the Gate.
They had laid Arcus near the Gate itself, its light shining over him. He was
just as beautiful as always, but his eyes were closed and his chest didn’t
move.
The people clustered around him moved off as I approached, giving
me room. Brother Thistle knelt among them, but he didn’t matter right now.
Falling to my knees, I bent over Arcus, taking his face in my hands. His
skin was so cold, but it was always cold. Blue blood soaked his tunic. I
wouldn’t look there. Not real
“Arcus?” I whispered. “Wake up, love.”
Kai let out a quiet, agonized groan, and I heard him whisper something
to someone. Familiar faces stared at me, members of our ship’s crew.
But they didn’t matter. No one else mattered. I fixed my gaze on
Arcus’s eyelids and willed them to open. “Wake up wake up wake up.”
Dimly, I heard myself. I ordered and begged him to open his eyes.
After a few minutes, a stark and ugly thought came into my mind, settling
in like a carrion bird.
He’s dead.
NO!
With unsteady feet, I lurched to Lucina and clutched her arm. “Heal
him.”
Her golden eyes dimmed with a look of profound regret.
“Heal him!” My hoarse shout echoed off the cliffs, the words doubling
over each other. “The stories say… you can heal… any wound.” My
breathing had shattered into gasps. “Heal him.”
“I can heal his body,” she said huskily. “But the spirit leaves soon after
death. Even if I mend his wounds, well… your Arcus has gone to the
afterworld—”
“He hasn’t!” I grated fiercely. “He would not leave me behind.”
She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening at whatever she saw in my
eyes. “I will try.”
She lifted her arms up to the sky. The sunshine filled them, turning her
gold once again. Then she tilted her hands down and released the light into
Arcus’s wound. I gasped, worried that she was hurting him, unable to
comprehend that he couldn’t feel pain.
Everyone was silent as his body glowed with light. Waiting. I was
strung up in terrible suspension, either ready to fly or to be dashed to the
ground in pieces.
“It’s done,” she finally said, panting. She lifted his tunic to check,
wiping away the blood with the hem of his shirt, and nodded. “His wound is
healed.” She put her hand to his neck, her ear to his mouth. Slowly, she
looked at me. And shook her head.
That’s when I truly understood. He was gone.
I doubled over in agony, falling next to Arcus again, unable to see past
tears. I placed my hand on his cheek. He’d always responded to my touch.
Even in his sleep, his eyelashes would have fluttered. Or he would have
nuzzled my hand, would have tried to get closer.
“Come back to me,” I begged, whispering soft words, trying to lure
him to my voice. Minutes passed while I babbled—pleading, enticing,
threatening. “I won’t leave you. I won’t give up on you.” I pressed my lips
to his cheek, watching as salty tears dripped and slid down his skin, turning
to drops of ice as they reached his ear.
My chest heaved with sobs. I shook uncontrollably. Pain pierced my
midsection, as if a stiletto were being driven between my ribs. My
temperature flashed from hot to cold as if my gift were breaking along with
my heart. My hands went to my chest, as if I could claw out the pain.
Unbearable. Reopening the old, festering wound of loss after my
mother was killed.
This loss would break me.
Already, black despair swallowed me from within.
“Cirrus, please!” I begged, tilting my head up to the sky. “Sud! Fors!
Bring him back.”
Nothing.
I called on Tempus and Neb.
Nothing.
No no no this can’t be real!
But I knew it was. Sometime in the past few minutes, my wall of
denial had crumbled. And I had broken with it.
After a few seconds, numbness eased the pain.
The Minax! I’d never been so grateful. Relief spread through me, inch
by torturous inch.
I sank into its consciousness. It whispered sweet words of relief.
Quietly offering. The Minax would cure me. It would keep me from feeling
this terrible ache.
I could choose never to feel anything again.
The creature waited. Alert. Poised to act. It only needed one word from
me.
A second of hesitation stretched to two.
A world of unending pain? Or blessed numbness?
The choice was easy.
Yes, I told it. Yes, take it all away.
The barrier between myself and the creature burned into ash. The
Minax slammed into place in a way it never had before, filling my mind and
heart to the brink.
Grief faded into a misty soup of unfeeling, the pain a distant twinge.
Sensations and impulses crowded my mind, then faded as they were
replaced with the creature’s wants and needs, stirring the chaos.
I looked up, taking stock of my surroundings for the first time in many
minutes. Shouts and clangs rose from the lava field, not so far away. I
breathed in the smells of smoke and blood, pain and lost lives. An
intoxicating perfume.
Yes, we—the Minax and I as one—would survive this loss.
“Ruby?” Lucina said, concerned.
I rose and turned my back on her. She was inconsequential now.
The Gate pulsed in front of me with an audible hum. Its honey-gold
surface bowed out, shivering as if a battering ram slammed on it from the
inside.
Countless shadows, struggling to escape. Spirits of people murdered
by the Minax, clawing to get out. They threw themselves at the crack,
desperate, wild, mad for freedom.
It was all clear now. I had killed today, with the Minax possessing my
heart. If Lucina’s theory about proximity to the Minax was correct, those
deaths had added to the volume of spirits, all bashing at the Gate to get out.
I might have played right into Eurus’s hands, helping him unwittingly.
If I’d realized this sooner, I would have been disturbed by the idea.
I waited, half blinded by the pulsing light.
Lucina yelled. She saw the danger too late. She threw a band of light at
the Gate and shouted orders for help. For frostfire.
I kept my eyes on the Gate. The surface bowed out over the crack,
once, twice, like fabric pushed and pushed by a dull knife. Finally, the knife
penetrated. The crack tore open, the slice grew, and shadows streamed out,
wraiths dancing on air, pouring free.
Kai and Brother Thistle rushed forward, arms raised, fire and frost
meeting and blending into a swift and rudimentary version of frostfire.
They directed the sparking column at the opening, trying to contain the
damage. The shadows shivered in the blue-white light, but kept up their
assault until one slithered through.
The Minax reveled as they burst free. Connected to all of them, I felt
their raw elation, heard their untamed thoughts.
No more imprisonment! No more starvation! The world is our banquet,
and we are hungry.
The agony of death would be our life.
The long, dark night had begun.
THIRTY-THREE
Energy sizzled in the air around us. A beam of light broke through the
ever-present bank of clouds and flowed into Lucina’s hands, coating her
body. Like a crystal that redirects and concentrates the sun’s rays, her hands
filled, then forced a bolt of explosive heat into my chest. I fell to my knees,
put my hands up in an automatic defensive gesture, but the sunlight entered
anyway.
Now I knew what my mother had gone through to give up her gift. Our
fiery emotions gave the Minax an advantage, so we had both chosen to
relinquish our fire willingly. But it felt as if my heart were being cut out
with a scythe. The pain was so intense, I couldn’t scream. I knelt, twitching
in misery, while pitiless light carved a path to the center of my chest.
Heat was drawn from my fingertips, from my veins, into her hands. I
opened my eyes, squinting in the rays of sunset, the sky streaked in shades
of fire and blood.
Lucina fell to her knees beside me and was quiet.
I shuddered and gasped, my heart drumming a frenzied, uneven beat as
it adjusted to this new reality. I was a Fireblood no longer. No burning
emotions to make me more vulnerable to the Minax. No passion to cloud
my mind.
No gift.
No me.
I shook off any self-pity, any regret.
My only purpose now was to defeat Eurus. It was all I lived for.
Whatever I had to do.
And I was ready to enter the Gate.
THIRTY-FOUR
THE GATE SNAPPED AND GLOWED AS before, but the thin, dark fissure
had widened.
Several pairs of Frostblood and Fireblood masters were combining
their version of frostfire to block the opening. Against all odds, they had
slowed the release of shadows almost to a standstill. Lucina was using
beams of sunlight to deflect the escaping shadows, so they couldn’t possess
the masters as they worked.
As I neared, I saw Brother Thistle on his knees next to Arcus’s body.
My stomach flipped over, my heart ripped open again at the sight of him.
For a second, I longed to give in to the Minax once again.
Instead, I moved next to Arcus, shaking as a fresh wave of grief
flooded my chest. My vision blurred as I struggled to stay upright.
“He was like a son to me,” Brother Thistle said in a thin voice that
sounded nothing like him at all. I wiped my eyes to see him bent over the
still form, his shoulders hunched as if blows were raining down on him. As
if his grief was too great even to be eased by tears. I waited until he sat back
on his heels and had taken a few calming breaths before I spoke.
“I’m going into the Obscurum now,” I said, my voice thick with
unshed tears. “I just wanted to say…” I swallowed, searching for the right
words, then gave up. There were no right words.
“I believe in you, Miss Ruby Otrera.” As he turned his head to look at
me, I saw that his blue eyes shone with a layer of mist, though he tried to
force a trembling smile to his lips. “I have always believed in you. Go.
Make me proud. Make your goddess proud. And save us all.”
I put my arms around him, grateful when he pressed one hand to my
back, returning the embrace. “Thank you for teaching me. For everything.”
“I would do so again,” he said, his voice thick, “a hundred times over,
and thank Fors for giving me the chance.”
I tried to smile, and almost managed it.
“Gods go with you, Ruby.”
Kai spoke my name, soft but clear. The sounds of battle were muffled,
this area clogged with solemn quiet. He nodded at me as he and the
Frostblood warrior ceased making frostfire. His skin was sheened with
sweat, his eyes glazed with exhaustion. But he straightened and bowed at
me as if we were meeting at court. I swallowed and nodded, which was as
much as I could manage.
I knew it was time. He was giving me a few moments to enter the
Gate.
Our eyes held. He smiled for a second, then his face crumpled.
“Be safe, little bird,” he said in a choked voice. “Come back to us.
Remember, you are the exception to all rules.”
I rubbed my eyes. No more tears from here on, I promised myself. Too
much depended on me to give into feelings that could sway my focus.
“I hope to see you again soon, Kai,” I said. He nodded, face twisting,
and turned away.
I bent and planted a kiss on Arcus’s cold cheek, smoothing his hair
back from his forehead.
“Good-bye, my love,” I whispered.
I tried to move away, to push myself to my feet, but my muscles
locked, everything in me fighting to stay. Now that it was time, I couldn’t
leave him. I realized how foolish it was to think that I would leave him. I
couldn’t go!
“I will keep him safe, Ruby,” Lucina stated with firm sympathy. “You
must save those who remain.”
Closing my eyes tight, I pressed my forehead to Arcus’s one last time,
then forced myself to stand. I walked stiffly to the Gate, feeling as if I were
fighting my way against the tide.
Lucina’s arms were raised, her palms open as she protected the masters
from the escaping Minax.
Just before I stepped through, she used one hand to pull a pendant on a
chain from around her neck. Light spilled between her clenched fingers as
she handed the necklace to me.
“Cirrus’s crystal,” she said, “to show you the way in the dark—but
also to show you your light should you need it. If despair should overwhelm
you in that place, I want you to have some means of overcoming it.”
“Don’t you need it?”
“It is mine to give.”
I clutched it in my fist. “Thank you.”
“Release the spirits of the dead first. It’s hanging on to darkness that
keeps them trapped. If they give that up, they will be able to pass through
the Gate as light and move into the afterworld. Only once they are all gone
can we be sure the Gate will hold.”
I nodded, suddenly unsure whether I could do this, whether it was even
possible.
“Then call the Minax to you, the ones that escaped,” she instructed.
“They should be drawn to you. Once they enter the Obscurum through the
rift, I’ll reseal the Gate.”
Without another word, I stepped in.
THE BLEAK TRUTH SANK IN. EURUS had tossed me on the throne without
so much as a warning. All my refusals and defiance had still led to this
moment. How naive I’d been to assume I’d have a choice. He was a god in
the Obscurum, and I was still just a mortal. I had half a beat to absorb a
deep sense of futility before chaos hit.
A thousand images assailed me at once. The earsplitting sounds of
battle, the acrid taste of smoke and burned flesh. The hundred or so escaped
shadows capering over the lava field, flitting between hosts, riding waves of
bloodthirsty joy, transmitting every gory morsel to me. The throne
connected me with them more deeply than ever before, sharing every
nuance of what they thought, felt, and sensed.
Each spirit in the Obscurum was woven directly into my mind as well,
their screams howling in my ears, their yearning to escape vibrating along
my every nerve. It was a tapestry with ten thousand threads, all connected
to my fingers.
Too much! The sensations and images attacked my mind, excruciating
in their intensity. I tilted my head back, the cords in my neck straining,
imprisoned by cold stone, besieged by the screams of the dying. I screamed
silently with them.
“It will take some getting used to, I imagine,” Eurus said serenely.
“But I have no doubt you’ll manage.”
Surges of raw energy were coursing through me like lightning. My
limbs filled with strength, my mind sharpening with stark and brutal clarity
as quickly as it had been overcome with sensations. Suddenly, the fog lifted
and I was no longer fatigued or melancholy, but humming with power.
Experimentally, I gave a command for the shadows on the battlefield
to leave their hosts. They did so immediately. I released them, and they
returned to the fray.
I tried a few more commands, and they responded with complete and
instant compliance. I could compel them with a thought. I could puppet
them all at once. Within seconds, I had adapted, the connections fusing in
my mind and heart and blood.
“Now do you see?” Eurus said, his mouth curving up at the edges.
“You belong here.”
Though his features hadn’t changed, his form had grown into godlike
proportions. He stood with his arms crossed, looking down on me even
though I sat high on the massive throne.
“Back to your true form, I see.”
“Indeed,” he replied. “Neb’s rules have no bearing outside the mortal
world, and I grow tired of that pathetic little body.
“You fought this, fought me, for no reason,” he said, emerald eyes
glittering with malicious exultation. “You were born to wear the Nightblood
crown.”
With a wave of his hand, a crown encircled my head. I reached up to
feel the hard, smooth surface. It was made of curving antlers or twisted
bones, the top reaching toward the sky in sharp points. My neck adjusted to
the extra weight, my shoulders squared, my body accepting it as my due.
Eurus’s words rang with truth. This felt right. Seamless. A connection
I was destined to make. A dark gift I could never relinquish, would never
want to. The sorrow and grief that had nearly crushed me such a short time
ago had been lifted away. I felt refreshed, reborn, made new.
“You are starting to understand,” Eurus said, wild excitement flowing
from him. “This is your purpose, your destiny.”
I was only listening with part of my attention. I was outside in the
battle, effortlessly asserting my will on the shadows. Without hesitation,
their thoughts shifted, and they targeted the Servants. The soldiers turned on
their own, killing each other savagely. One after the other, they cut each
other down in sprays of blood.
As I’d surmised, the shadows were an unbeatable force. In minutes,
the slaughter would be over.
“Do you really want to do that?” Eurus asked, his voice melodious,
compelling. “You draw strength from death, from bloodlust and pain. The
battle will be over too soon if the Minax choose sides.”
I paused, considering, and decided he was right. It would be better to
prolong the fight, to make the suffering last.
“Each death empowers you more,” Eurus said, urging me on.
“Embrace your gift. We will rid this world of Frostbloods and Firebloods.”
He stared, unfocused, as if seeing images in his mind. “And then we’ll
harvest their very spirits. Make those proud Frostblood warriors and
Fireblood masters subservient to our will.”
Something about his words made me pause. “Frostbloods and
Firebloods? Why them?”
“Why not them?” he asked, anger sharpening his voice as his eyes
snapped to mine. “They bleed like other mortals. They die. And yet they are
revered above those with no gift. They are an abomination that must be
stamped out.”
I stared at him. “Is that why your Servants follow you?”
“They see the imbalance, the unfairness of your world. Strong gifts are
rewarded with wealth, power, and status. Those without gifts are left to rot.”
Confusion knit my brow. “You said I shouldn’t choose sides, that all
deaths make me more powerful. Now it sounds as if you want me to
choose.”
“At some point, Ruby, everyone has to take a side. Why destroy my
Servants? They would follow you faithfully, whereas Frostbloods and
Firebloods are only loyal to their own.”
“You have Frostbloods and Firebloods fighting on your side.”
He waved that away. “An unfortunate necessity. We can take care of
them once we’ve wiped out all the others.”
The battle raged on, but I no longer felt the bliss of it. Something was
clawing at my mind. “I don’t think I want to kill them all,” I said
uncertainly.
“Why?” Eurus snapped. “Even your own people didn’t protect you.”
I watched him curiously. “From your curse, you mean?”
“From Frostbloods! You can’t sympathize with them after what they
did to your mother. To your people. To you.”
Mother.
Unease stirred inside of me. What would she think of my actions, the
way I was using the shadows to kill and maim? She’d been a healer. She
would be devastated to see me now.
“I wouldn’t sympathize with the ones who raided villages or killed
Firebloods,” I said slowly. “But not all of them are like that.”
“Your precious Arcus, for instance? He’s dead.”
A spear of fresh pain cut through the rich vortex of power that had
cloaked me. Memories of my past with Arcus rushed in, making me sick
with loss. Along with the pain was a jarring sense of disorientation, as if I
were wandering through dark tunnels of my dreams. I had taken a wrong
turn somewhere. The shadows hid my pain, but they also hid the truth.
It was either numbness or clarity. Painful memories or blank, empty
safety.
Given the choice, I would keep the memories, even if they brought me
pain. Choosing numbness was easier, but that didn’t make it better.
I opened my hand to check the crystal. The transparent gem had gone
dark, with just a tiny speck of light left in its center. I closed my palm over
it, and the gentle glow penetrated my dark thoughts.
A question formed, demanding an answer. “If I use my power to kill,
how am I any better than those who killed my mother?”
Eurus said with clear disgust, “You are limiting yourself to mortal
values. You are greater than that now.” His eyes took on a feverish glint.
“Together, we can decide what’s right and wrong. Who lives and dies. In
the game of creation, I have won. The other gods will look down and
breathe in the ashes of what they’ve lost. And you will share in my
triumph.”
I stared at him and felt as if I could see right through him. As if the
light pouring into my blood from the crystal had illuminated the truth.
“That’s your shameful secret, isn’t it? You didn’t create the Minax.
They aren’t living shadows. They’re lost spirits. You warped them and
forced them into the hearts of the living.”
He moved closer, his footsteps shaking the columns. “My siblings
added their gifts to the blood of mortals. What I did is no different.”
“It is entirely different!” I felt the pieces of myself reassembling, my
heart rushing with anger. “Your siblings gave, but you took. Firebloods and
Frostbloods retain their free will. In erasing free will, you made
abominations.”
“Is that how you think of yourself?” he asked with a brittle laugh. “An
abomination? Then perhaps I should eliminate you right now.”
“But then you wouldn’t be able to use me in your revenge.”
His breath was a rising wind, sweeping around the room. “Now that I
know how to create Nightbloods, I can simply create more.”
I held his challenging stare, unwilling to back down even with a blink.
I doubted he’d discard me so blithely. Despite his bravado, he had no
guarantee his experiment would work a second time. I called his bluff. “If
you wanted to destroy me, I don’t have any illusions that I could stop you.”
The tension stretched taut. My chest tightened. The wind stole my
breath. I put a hand to my throat, my mouth open, but I didn’t look away.
Finally, he made a furious gesture, and the air returned to my lungs.
“Enough! Accept what is. You are bound to the throne. You cannot escape,
even in death. You will do my bidding because you have no choice but to
obey.”
The gale-force wind howled through the room, extinguishing the
torches, whipping my hair over my face, plunging us into a vast, echoing
void. The gloom provided one last chance to escape.
My temples throbbed as I struggled to stand. When my limbs cramped
and burned, I knew escape was hopeless. I couldn’t leave, couldn’t die, and
there was no way I could destroy a god.
All I could do was control the Minax.
I closed my eyes, blocking out the wind, the sounds of battle, the slam
of my pulse.
And called all those restless, hungry spirits to me.
The Minax—or rather, the tortured spirits—flew toward me in a rush. I
called them from the battlefield, from inside the Gate, from every corner of
the Obscurum, feeling each shadow as a presence in my mind.
They flowed through tunnels, through walls, into the throne room,
howling and screeching.
Dimly, I heard Eurus shouting. I blocked him out, tuning my thoughts
to the spirits. Lucina had said they would have to leave of their own free
will, so I would offer instead of command.
“Eurus will never let you go,” I told them. “But I will take your
darkness so you can go to the afterworld where you belong!”
I repeated the offer, making sure every last spirit accepted. A ferocious
wave of shadows arrowed into my heart. My rib cage ached, too small, full
to bursting, the way I used to feel whenever my fire spun out of control.
Instead of heat, black despair sliced into me and through me.
Too agonized even to scream, I teetered on the brink of an abyss, the
pain and desolation waiting to swallow me whole. Only a slender tether of
memory held me back, brief flashes of random moments from my past.
I saw Mother smiling at me, her dark hair escaping its braid as she
ground herbs with a mortar and pestle, her smile lines radiating out from
her warm brown eyes.
Lucina, when I knew her as Grandmother, lit by firelight, her veined
hands moving as she spun a tale of the gods.
Arcus looking down at me with tenderness and love in our practice
area outside the abbey, wearing the crooked smile that made me want to
kiss him senseless.
Brother Thistle telling me he had faith in me just before I entered the
Obscurum, projecting his confidence that I could overcome any odds.
As the spirits tore through me, my Nightblood heart soaked up the
shadows, and light emerged on the other side. Luminescent spirits floated
away, free. I sensed their relief, felt their elation as they darted back toward
the Gate where instinct had been calling them throughout their long
imprisonment. Instead of hurling themselves against it, they passed through
as creatures of pure, golden radiance. I knew the exact moment each left the
Obscurum, my connection with them severed for all time.
It happened in minutes, a terrible wave of bleak darkness morphing
into a euphoria of incandescent hope that swelled and filled the room until
my vision faded white. Then, emptiness.
Finally, only one spirit remained. The fire Minax in my heart, which
had been trapped in the throne of Sud for a thousand years.
“You have to go, too,” I whispered, sensing its vulnerability for the
first time. “You can leave your darkness with me and ascend.”
I swallowed, my hands curling into fists. I had grown used to its
presence even if I had hated its possession, its hold over me. For a moment,
I felt its reluctance to leave me. Then, as it silently accepted my offer, I took
a breath and severed the tie between us.
It appeared to me as a golden figure, shining bright, a woman dressed
as a Sudesian commoner.
My companion waits for me, she said in my mind.
“The frost Minax was destroyed,” I said gently. I had forced my Minax
to destroy its twin when I first took it into my heart in Sudesia.
Did not destroy, the spirit said. I took its darkness. Its light ascended.
And now I follow.
I closed my eyes as the woman’s spirit faded, joy bursting through me.
There was a sense of completeness, of everything being put back in order,
of rightness. It filled me with a hope so strong that I could even bear the
nightmare of emotions left inside of me.
In my palm, the crystal glowed bright, the only light in the cavernous
room.
I looked up, grinning with triumph.
My eyes met those of a furious god.
THIRTY-SEVEN
ARCUS STAYED CLOSE, AND WE RACED through the tunnels to the Gate.
“This will work,” I said, more to myself than him.
We’d made the plan while fleeing a furious god, so it wasn’t
impossible that there were some flaws in the premise—the assumption that
I could use Eurus’s darkness to make an illusion of my own.
The idea had started to take shape when I’d sat on the throne. Eurus
must have had to give the spirits some of his own power to twist them into
his Minax. When I was releasing the spirits, I took their darkness, but I’d
also absorbed residual energy from each—the power of a god. A minuscule
amount from each spirit, but it added up. And now I could use it.
Standing in the center of the cavernous space, I used darkness much
the way I would have used fire, my mind shaping its form and flow. I made
a scene in my head, paying attention to detail, creating the illusion of walls
to obscure the room, particularly the Gate.
Cover the Gate with darkness, I told myself. Hide it so not even the
tiniest glimmer shows through.
“Is the light all covered?” I asked Arcus, my head splitting with the
effort of focusing my thoughts.
“I can’t see any,” he assured me. “Remember to leave your darkness
behind, and you’ll be able to get through the Gate.”
“Go!” I whispered urgently, my heart breaking. “I love you.”
“This isn’t good-bye,” Arcus reassured me in a low, soothing voice.
“We will be together again. I love you, too, Ruby. Always. Be safe.”
He paused. I felt his longing to protect me, his reluctance to leave. He
brushed my hands with his, the soft lightning passing between us for a
second, and then he disappeared.
Eurus appeared at the entrance to the cavern in that moment. “You are
a plague,” he raged, bounding toward me. “I will end you now, and your
spirit will pay!”
Wind roared from his direction, battering against me, pushing me.
I let it back me toward the threshold until I felt the Gate’s hum, then
closed my eyes.
Darkness, I release you. I release all of you. Every stain. Every
smudge. Every shadow.
The moment I sensed the last tendrils of darkness leave my body, I
leaped. I burst through the Gate and tumbled to the ground outside, the cold
air washing over me in an invigorating rush.
The sounds of battle still rent the air, carrying from the lava field.
Night had fallen, and the area around the Gate was dark.
Eurus followed a second later, his footsteps rumbling the ground.
I swallowed, gathering my courage. Here was the worst part.
Neb’s law said that her children couldn’t interfere in the mortal world
while in god form or by using their divine powers. Merely being here in his
true form might not be enough to violate the law.
So I had to let him “interfere,” meaning I had to let him hurt me. And
one blow could kill me.
I took a shaky breath as he drew back a massive foot. At the last
second, I must have dodged. Instead of annihilating me, his kick connected
with my left arm, cracking bone. I spun in the air, landing hard, rolling, my
face and body punished by the hard ground, my arm on fire with pain. I
came to rest on my back, blinking hard. My vision doubled, making the
stars swim overhead, sinuous and beckoning, as if inviting me into their
confidence. Finally, they came to a rest, flickering like candles. Reassuring
beacons in the dark, whispering of infinity.
But my suffering would not be eternal. I had escaped the throne,
escaped what Eurus had claimed was my destiny. No matter what happened
now, I had done that.
“I understand the word eternity perfectly,” I said, hoping he could hear
my breathless, pain-filled voice. “That’s how long you’ll live in exile.”
Eurus spun around, saw the Gate—that he was on the wrong side of it
—and howled his rage in a blast that shook the hills and made the
volcanoes tremble and boil. The shudders from the ground ran through my
body in an aching wave, but I perceived the pain distantly as I stared up at
the sky, my body boneless with a deep sense of relief.
“Neb,” I said to the stars. “Your son has been a naughty boy.”
THIRTY-NINE
OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, THOSE who were healthy enough boarded
ships and left. The captured soldiers were kept under guard in their own
camp, and would eventually face judgment in their respective kingdoms.
We set up healing tents for the wounded in the lee of a curving cliff
with an overhang, the closest thing in the area to a large cave. The weather
remained dry, and the wind stayed calm, which seemed like a rather
deliberate favor, considering.
Every once in a while, though, a harsh gust would come screaming in
from the east, kicking up dirt and rocks before fading into a whispering
breeze that sounded as if it were muttering threats.
Eurus was a sore loser.
Lucina and Brother Thistle had seen the full battle of the gods, which
had ended in a screaming, thrashing Eurus being tossed through the Gate by
his siblings. With some assistance, Cirrus had then modified the opening. It
now had layers of lava and ice as well as light. Fors had declared that he
hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in at least a millennium. Maybe two.
Eurus was sentenced to sit on the night throne he had created,
presiding over an empty underground kingdom. His exile would last for as
long as the stars shone in the sky. I hoped he still liked the word eternity
after a few thousand years.
Brother Thistle said that after Cirrus had shrunk down to mortal size
and assisted Arcus’s spirit back into his body, Lucina had transformed into
the young and beautiful Sage and thanked Cirrus with a kiss. A long, rather
passionate kiss that did dance on the edge of breaking Neb’s law about
mortal interference. Not that anyone was going to tell.
Brother Thistle and I figured there was much more to Lucina’s powers
than we would ever know. After a thousand years or so of life, he had
assumed she would ascend to the afterworld now that the Minax were all
gone, but she’d told him there were other matters she needed to take care of
first.
At dawn on solstice, she took care of one item: my broken arm. She
used sunlight to heal me completely.
Lucina also helped in the healing tents, working miracles during the
daylight hours. I assisted the other healers on lesser injuries, rubbing salve
on wounds, bandaging, and offering solace.
Many soldiers had died, and the guilt over my part in that would
always eat at me. The worse I felt, the harder I worked, every bit of
discomfort and exhaustion a form of penance.
“You’re doing it again,” Arcus said, his cold hand sliding under my
braid to settle on my nape.
I straightened from checking a soldier’s bandage, assuring her that her
wound was healing well before I turned away.
“Doing what?” I asked, rubbing at the ache in my back.
“Ruminating. Dwelling on your actions. Indulging in guilty thoughts.”
“I’d hardly call it indulging. It’s not enjoyable,” I said with a bit of
annoyance. He kept trying to tell me that no one could have done any
differently, and I’d coped better than most would have in that situation. I
wasn’t ready to accept that.
I stopped and turned to him, letting the ordered chaos of the healing
tent ebb and flow around us. “Anyway, how do you always know when I’m
upset?”
My eyes drank in the sight of him, something I’d decided never to take
for granted again. He was dressed in a simple but finely tailored gray
doublet and dark trousers with black boots. Of course he didn’t seem to feel
the cold that plagued me every second of every day.
I had never realized how much my gift had kept me warm. I was
wrapped in several layers of wool and furs, borrowed from here and there,
and still I shivered. Since the day of the battle, Arcus had begun practicing
warming his body temperature so he could still touch and kiss me,
something that required stolen moments of experimentation several times a
day.
“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “I just do. I sense it. I can be on
the beach helping load a ship and I know the exact moment when you start
feeling self-doubt or shame. And then I can do nothing else but come here
and find you and try to make you feel better.”
He bent and put his lips to mine, the jolt of his touch zinging through
me in pleasurable waves. At first, his lips were cold, but within seconds,
they were as warm as mine.
“You’re getting very good at that,” I breathed between kisses.
“It requires further practice,” he said, his arms drawing me closer.
“Extensive research.”
“I’m willing, but only if you limit your research to me.”
He smiled against my lips. “I’ll give it due consideration.”
I bit him gently. He laughed.
A throat cleared at the door of the tent. We both looked up.
Kai wore a long-suffering look. “You are so predictable. Is there
nowhere you can do that privately?”
“Did you seek us out just to chastise us?” I asked.
“No, we were summoned,” Kai replied. “We, meaning me, and both of
you.”
“I was summoned?” Arcus said with an arrogant lift of his brows. He
was, after all, a king.
Kai showed no sign of being overly impressed. “Yes. Queen Nalani’s
tent. Now. I expect we will either receive a gift in thanks for returning her
husband to her, or she means to browbeat us into doing her bidding.” He
gave me a significant look, the meaning something along the lines of
prepare yourself for a fight.
Kai and I hadn’t exactly told the queen that we wouldn’t be marrying.
Not each other, at any rate. Liddy had other ideas when it came to Kai.
After accidentally discovering the truth when she spotted me kissing Arcus,
Liddy had continued to press her suit right up until her ships had sailed
away. Her broken heart was somewhat soothed by piles of coin from both
the grateful Frost King and Fire Queen.
Arcus’s hand squeezed mine tight. “Does he mean what I think he
means?”
I squeezed back reassuringly. “I’m sure she just wants to thank us.”
But I wasn’t sure of anything when it came to the unpredictable Fire
Queen.
Queen Nalani’s tent was richly appointed, with layers of colorful rugs
warming the floor and vibrant tapestries blocking drafts in the tent walls. A
brass lantern hung from a metal stand, casting warm light on the wooden
bed, dresser, chest, and armoire, which she must have brought from
Sudesia.
My eyes went to Prince Eiko, whose tall, lanky form was stretched out
on the bed covered in quilts as he slept. When I had directed the Sudesian
healers to where Eurus had left Prince Eiko’s body on the rock near the
ramparts, I wasn’t sure if he was still alive. Fortunately for him and for the
queen who loved him, he had been. He had little memory of his possession
by Eurus, but what he did remember disturbed him greatly. He rested most
of the time, and Lucina came every day to check on him and give him a
dose of light.
“Your Majesty.” I curtsied low, which always felt strange when I was
wearing trousers. I wondered if I would ever truly feel as if she were my
aunt as well as my queen. “You wished to see us?”
“Indeed,” she said. Her dark hair was braided and flowed over one
shoulder. She wore a thicker, quilted version of the masters’ robes, the
vermilion color complementing her rich skin tone. “Please come in.”
Arcus bowed and entered, followed by Kai. There were two chairs, so
I sat in one, and Kai sat in the other. Arcus shot me a look of amused
annoyance at the way the prince showed him no deference and went to
stand behind my chair. I tensed, wondering if he’d make a statement by
placing his hands on my shoulders, but he didn’t. I wasn’t sure if I was
relieved or disappointed.
The queen clasped her hands together in her lap, her dark eyes
snapping. “I am very glad to see you all well after the battle. And I want to
thank you again for helping free my husband from that…” Her words faded.
“I refuse to refer to him as a god. That trickster.”
I relaxed a bit knowing she’d called us here to thank us. “It really
wasn’t anything we did,” I felt obligated to admit. “Eurus finally left him
when he had no use for him anymore.”
The queen reached out and touched Prince Eiko’s arm as he slept, as if
needing to reassure herself he was still there.
“You are too humble, Ruby. You have my eternal gratitude,” she said
with quiet gravity. “Which is why I am in such a forgiving state of mind.”
“Forgiving?” I asked.
She looked at me and then Kai in a calculating way. “Unless I am
mistaken, and no forgiveness is required? I was under the impression that
you had both broken your vows to me. Prince Kai, do you intend to marry
my niece?”
He straightened in his chair. “I regret to say no, Your Majesty.”
“You have broken a vow, which was also the third test in your
Fireblood trials. Under Sudesian law, you should be stripped of your title of
Fireblood master, which would also mean the loss of your newly restored
island.”
Kai sucked in a breath, his knuckles whitening on the arm of the chair.
“And you, Ruby,” she said, turning. “You also broke your vow, and
you deceived me, which hurts me greatly. Had you any intention of
marrying Prince Kai when you made your vow to me?”
I took a long breath and forced myself to tell the truth. “Not if I could
help it.”
“Thank you,” Kai muttered, sounding deeply annoyed.
“It’s not like that, and you know it,” I muttered back.
Queen Nalani squared her shoulders. “Breaking a vow to your queen is
tantamount to treason. I could have you both executed for your crimes.”
“Now, just a minute,” Arcus said, moving to stand in front of me.
The queen held up a palm. “However, as I said, I am in a forgiving
frame of mind. Very forgiving.” Her lips curved up as she watched me try to
see around Arcus. “You may resume your post behind my niece… King
Arkanus.”
It was the first time I’d heard her address him by name.
“Friends and family call me Arcus,” he said, moving behind me once
again. “As I hope to count you as one or both of those, please use that
name.”
She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Perhaps I will. But for now I must
address the issue of the Sudesian throne. I had planned for Ruby to be
queen with Kai at her side, teaching her Sudesian ways. Now, I have a niece
who has lost her Fireblood powers, and a prince who would have ruled well
but has no claim to the throne.”
I swallowed. “I’m sorry that the loss of my gift also robbed you of an
heir.”
She waved that away. “Not your fault, my dear, and I am sure you feel
the loss far more than I do.”
I inclined my head, grateful for her understanding.
“Unfortunately, Sudesian law states that the ruler must be a Fireblood
with a gift equivalent to a Fireblood master.”
Kai leaned forward. “And he or she must have the royal gift as well,
isn’t that correct, Your Majesty? Ruby was the last in your line. If I may be
so bold, how will you find a replacement for her?”
He referred to the queen’s power to control lava, which I had lost
along with my fire.
“I could never replace my dear niece, of course,” she said with
amusement, “but I must correct your knowledge of the rules of succession.
It seems, on close inspection of the laws, that the gift that has been passed
through my family was never a necessary component to my rule. It was
merely a benefit. And as you know, I have the right to bestow and revoke
titles based on power, ability, or any criteria I wish.”
I heard Arcus shuffle behind me. He was probably a bit envious of her.
Tempesian laws didn’t give as much unilateral power to the monarch. He
always had his court to contend with.
“Do you have someone in mind?” I asked, suspecting where this was
going.
“I do,” the queen said. “My only concern is that he may be too devoted
to his life of privateering to consider the honor of my bequest.”
Arcus cleared his throat. “Queen Nalani, I hope that you will no longer
honor letters of marque for captains who would set upon Tempesian ships.
A peaceful future between our two kingdoms is my fond wish.”
“As it is mine,” she said, sitting back with a wide smile. “Prince Kai, I
am afraid I must rescind your letter of marque. From this moment forward,
you cannot set upon Tempesian ships without facing the consequences.”
Kai said simply, “As I’d planned to give up piracy—excuse me,
privateering—now that I have my island back, I do not regret the loss. But
thank you for clarifying the matter, my queen.”
“It is settled, then,” she said, clapping her hands. “I am very happy,
and I hope you are as well.”
“Very, very happy, Your Majesty,” I said, leaning forward. “May I…
may I give you a hug?” I felt a blush heat my cheeks. It seemed like a silly
request, but I really did want to embrace her for this.
“Of course, child. Come here.” She extended her arms and I moved
into them. I closed my eyes on a wave of emotion. She smelled a bit like
Mother.
“Thank you, my queen,” I said, my voice wobbling. I turned to face
Arcus and Kai, not surprised that they both looked confused.
“What just happened?” Arcus asked.
I walked back over to him, moving close. “It means I’m no longer the
heir to the Sudesian throne, and I can stay with you in Tempesia, making
your life interesting for as long as we like.”
A sunny grin broke out on his face as his arm came around me. “That
is good news, then.” He nodded his thanks at the queen, then bent his head,
catching my eyes with many shades of warmest ice. “To be clear, that will
be a very long time.”
“Yes, I think it might,” I said, grinning back.
Kai looked back and forth at us. “I know I missed something here.”
“Yes, Kai,” I said without looking at him. “You missed the small fact
that you’re now heir to the Sudesian throne.” I turned to him with a grin. “I
bet you can’t wait until I have to refer to you as His Majesty, the Fire
King.”
EPILOGUE
Writing this series has been a dream come true. Words are inadequate
to express my gratitude for the time, energy, patience, and support of so
many people who helped make this happen.
Abundant appreciation to Deirdre Jones, my steadfast and perceptive
editor at Little, Brown, who has taken my drafty-as-an-old-house
manuscripts and helped me shape them into books. Huge thanks to the rest
of the amazing team: Hallie Tibbetts, Sasha Illingworth, Angela Taldone,
Virginia Lawther, Erika Breglia, Emilie Polster, Stefanie Hoffman,
Elizabeth Rosenbaum, Valerie Wong, Kristina Pisciotta, Shawn Foster,
Megan Tingley, Jackie Engel, and Alvina Ling. Special thanks to Annie
McDonnell, copyeditor extraordinaire, for your incredible eye for detail.
And once again, thank you to Dominique Delmas at Hachette Canada for
arranging Canadian events, and coming to see me at many of them!
Endless gratitude to Emily Kitchin at Hodder & Stoughton for your
perspicacious editorial direction and unfailing enthusiasm, and to the
wonderful Fleur Clarke, Becca Mundy, and Natalie Chen!
Heartfelt thanks to my agent, Suzie Townsend, for taking care of so
much, and for having the knack of saying the exact thing I need to hear. A
big hug to the rest of the awesome team at New Leaf Literary: Cassandra
Baim, Kathleen Ortiz, Mia Roman, Veronica Grijalva, and Hilary Pecheone.
As always, endless thanks for brainstorming, notes, support, and
friendship from Alexa Donne, Jennifer Hawkins, Heather Kaczynski, Mary
Ann Marlowe, Nicki Pau Preto, Nikki Roberti, Mara Rutherford, Kelly
Siskind, Summer Spence, Ron Walters, and Kristin B. Wright. Lots of love
to the Lady Seals: Anabel, Brooke, Crystal, Guida, and Sarah. Thank you to
early readers Sabrina Chiasson and Isabelle Hanson.
Hugs to my ever-supportive family: Matt, Nancy, Dan, Erik, Mark,
Fred, Donna, Heather, Jill, Todd, Zoe, and Quinton.
Nicklas, Aleksander, and Lukas, thank you for unconditional love and
understanding. You bring me joy every day. Dearest Darren, thank you for
doing so much to help me write. All my love.
Epic, resounding thanks to readers, especially those generous enough
to reach out with reviews or messages. I couldn’t do this without you!