Perla laughed. “Not a chance—I can always fly in. Besides, I at least need to be here for her and Nik’s wedding. What kind of dress do you think she’ll choose?”
They passed into the shadows, praise be to the Giver. “We are not talking about dresses. I’d rather go back into the sun so this headache can finish me off.”
“I’ll have to wear Daryatlean colors, of course. What do you think—plunging neckline? Open back? Wanna go as my date?” She waggled her brows.
He tried to roll his eyes, though the wince at the next throb probably ruined the effect. “I’d rather sit in an ice bath for an hour.”
She huffed a laugh. “You’re going to miss me when I go home.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“I estimate three years and ten months before you come looking for me.” To the guards at the door, she called out, “Open, please. And could someone send ahead for some medicine for his lordship’s headache? He’ll need food and water, too.”
One of the men held the door open while the other rushed down the corridor ahead of them.
Daemon should have just taken the entrance straight from the interior ledge into the palace, as he’d done that first time. Why had he thought fresh air might revive him?
“Where do you want to go?” She pitched her voice lower now, and the lightness left her tone. “The High Council is gathering in their Chamber. Did you want to head straight there?”
He shook his head, immediately regretting it. He had to lift his free hand to his temple to try to keep it from cracking into a thousand shards. “Toss me back in the volcano. I shouldn’t have tried to come straight up.”
“My mere presence isn’t enough to revive you? I am mortally offended.” But instead of turning toward the functional parts ofthe palace, she led him down that corridor that opened back up into Helviti’s mouth, where more guards saluted and opened the doors for them.
Sulfur wafted up with the heat, soothing his head a bit.
Perla led him straight to the edge. “Fifteen minutes for your swim, then you need to get your cute little rear back up here, eat something, and join the rest of the High Council before all the others get here.”
“So bossy. Your little brother must hate you.” He pulled his arm free of her shoulders and rolled his neck to try to relieve some of the tension.
She splayed a hand over her chest, blinking at him. “Bleu adores me. I’m his best friend, as he is mine—other than his saint of a wife, of course, but no one can be expected to compete with Iraja. Now go. Hurry up.” She gave him a helpful shove toward the ledge.
“Pushy, pushy.” But since the lava was calling him, he went to the edge and dove into the lake.
It was lower than he’d ever seen it after so much of the flow was diverted to Nik, but not so low that the dive was dangerous. Soon the molten rock closed over his head, body, then feet, and the heat throbbed through him, wiping out the pain he hadn’t even been aware of until he’d climbed out into the daylight. He swam for a few minutes, letting the heat work out all the kinks and aches from the tension he’d built while holding Helviti steady.
Probably nowhere near fifteen, though, before he surfaced and saw Perla sitting cross-legged in the air high up the cone. “You’re a freak of nature,” he called up to her.
She grinned back. “Says the man swimming in lava. Feel better?”
“Yeah.” He built himself a ramp like Eldrid had done for Nik, jogging up the steep incline, using his hands at the end as well as his feet to swing himself over the rock ledge.
Perla glided back to solid ground, wiping sweat from her brow. “Good. Let’s go.”
They went first to the receiving room they’d been using before Stefanos stole Kyrja and Nik, since a waiting Vektor said that’s where food had been sent for him. He couldn’t have said what they’d brought him to eat, nor what Perla chattered on about as he shoved it into his mouth and washed it down with lukewarm water—the kitchens had already learned that the Aflame weren’t fans of the ice water the Fjorders favored. Soon enough, they were striding toward the High Council Chambers.
Laughter reached him before he cleared the door, and he had to marvel at that. He had to think these chambers had never heard such a thing until his people entered it. Eldrid, flirting with Laila—who flirted right back, from the looks of it. Logi and Ember chatting amiably with Magnus. No one wore the gray robes that hung on hooks in the antechamber, nor did they stand in the spots on the floor that were supposed to indicate each one’s rank.
Suited him fine. He strode not for the traditional place of the First Seat, to the right of the monarch’s place, but to the window. “Scribe—ready?”
He hadn’t even glanced to see if Henrik was in his spot, but he must have been. “Yes, my lord. Fresh crystal in place.”
“Good. Begin the recording.” He scanned the harbor, the horizon behind it, spotting what he thought might be the sails of Stefanos’s trireme in the distance…or perhaps a cloud. They’d see soon. “Princess Perla reports that Her Majesty and Lord Nikanor will be here soon, along with the body of Isidor.”
He turned, but the only sharp inhale was from the scribe. Which made sense—he’d be the only one who wouldn’t havefelt the former king’s magic release when he died. Daemon didn’t detect anything but relief in the faces of the others. “King Stefanos will also be reaching the harbor soon. Report—where do we stand with the Blessed who sided with Isidor?”
Laila angled to face the crowd without leaving Eldrid’s side. “All but two have been arrested and are enroute now to the Ice Prison—or Fire Prison, I suppose—to await trial.”
Daemon nodded. Apparently hehadn’t had to deal with it after all. “Those missing two?”
