Stefanos’s lips curved up the slightest bit. “Quite. The Machine is hereby accepted in place of you, Queen Valkyrja. For the same term? Twenty years?”
Did she really want it back, even then? She looked to Nik, but he gave a small shrug. A glance to the others didn’t give her any clues either. “What if we were to reevaluate in twenty years? Discuss which of our people need it most at the time? My prayer is that Fjordlandi will be flourishing without it and will not desire its return, but I would like to retain the possibility, if I prove wrong.”
“Wise of you. I agree. And we can adjourn to the palace to work out the details at our leisure. Perhaps after you’ve had time to refresh yourself?” He arched a brow at her dress, which had definitely not fared well throughout the ordeal of the last few days. But he sounded amused, not sneering. Though something in his eyes shifted when he looked to Nik. “And perhaps you would like time to gather your things this time before we leave, Nik.”
“I beg your pardon?” Kyrja’s throat went tight, to match her chest.
Stefanos’s smile was nothing short of mocking this time. “We have reached a satisfactory agreement for you, Your Majesty. But Nik and I had a separate agreement, did we not? In which, if I recall, you agreed to give my scientists access to you in return for your choice of rooms in my palace and the freedom to use your time otherwise how you wish. You did not specifyhimin the agreement we just made.”
Her fingers went tight around Nik’s, her throat going tight. How had she—why had no one corrected her? But he was right, she’d only said it was in exchange for her. What had the exact wording been in the agreement with Nik? She couldn’t recall,just knew he’d agreed too fast to whatever Stefanos had offered, because at the time, it had meant being withher. Much like Stefanos had just agreed so quickly before she could evaluate her own faulty language.
“You can’t mean to separate them.” Elianne, of course, pushed forward, looking refreshed after her journey through the lava flow. “Take me. I surely proved myself today by overpowering Isidor. I’m at least worth studying, aren’t I?”
“No.” Daemon stepped forward too, but this time he didn’t sound angry like he had before when she’d suggested it. Certainly didn’t look like he was about to open up a vent and suck her down into the lava beneath their feet. He looked perfectly calm. And something more, something she’d never seen in him before. He looked…at peace “You should be here, Elianne. With Nik and Kyrja.”
Daemon turned, faced the Ellesian king. “I’ll go in Nik’s place—for a term. And after someone smarter than I am has gone over the contract.” He looked away from Stefanos, toward her and Nik. Never had she seen a smile like that on his lips—soft, almost affectionate. He looked, in that moment, more like his father than he ever had before. “I think I’d appreciate some time away, honestly. And you’ll have your Aflame king. Nik is strong enough to rule Fjordlandi’s volcanoes, and the others can teach him anything he doesn’t know yet by instinct.”
Nik sucked in a breath, and Kyrja knew he was wrestling with more feelings than he knew what to do with. So was she. And yet, she could understand why Daemon would want this. So long, he’d been a slave to Helviti. Even though now he was free, it would be difficult, she had to think, to watch the newest member of his family take his place beside her, as he clearly knew she meant for Nik to do. He’d likely have felt displaced, maybe even resentful in a way.
“You.” Stefanos reeled back a few inches, eyes widening just a bit. “Were you in fact the first? Seraph-born, like Queen Arden?”
“Seraph…sired. Yes. Human mother, seraph father.”
Stefanos considered him for a moment, just long enough for three different Aflame to shout his name in dismay. “I accept the offer,” Stefanos interjected quickly, silencing the objections. “So then, terms. Ten years in Ellas, perhaps? With a private dwelling built into our volcano for you, but daily work with our scientists. And a considerable stipend for your help, of course.”
Perla somehow stole the attention simply by crossing her arms. “Don’t be ridiculous. Ten years is far too long—the man’s never been away from Helviti for a day since he was Awakened. I think a year is a perfectly reasonable exchange. You were willing to give away nearly half your kingdom for six months studying my mother, if you recall.”
Stefanos sighed. “Perla, I am beginning to regret the day I met you.”
Daemon snorted a laugh. “Common sentiment, I think.”
She elbowed the Aflame none too gently in the ribs. “Do I have to tell you again to shut up, Daemon, when someone’s trying to help you?”
“Five years,” Stefanos said. “And a million kronia for your trouble, paid out over the term in equal increments.”
Perla shook her head. “Two years.”
“Four.”
Her grin looked positively mischievous. “Three years ten months.”
Daemon, for a reason Kyrja couldn’t follow, rolled his eyes and shook his head, muttering something she couldn’t catch.
Stefanos frowned a bit, clearly not any more sure why she was quibbling over two months than the rest of them were. “All right. Does the princess’s negotiation work for you, primal?”
“Four years is fine.” Daemon spat it at Perla.
She lifted her chin. “Three years ten months, Your Majesty.”
Stefanos chuckled. “You choose interesting lines, princess. But primal, if you want to stay an extra two months, we certainly won’t argue.” He turned back to Kyrja and Nik. “Shall we draw up the Accords?”
Kyrja nodded. She let the crowds sweep her toward the palace, leaving her father’s body in the charge of the Vektors who emerged—they’d handle moving him to the palace. Soon, there would be another state funeral in the Grand Kyrka. Another family member to mourn, with a grief even more complicated than the last.
She greeted Dania when her friend finally pushed through the gathering at the palace steps, drew her in for an embrace. “There’s so much to tell you,” she murmured.
Dania gave a choked laugh. “There certainly is. For me too—just wait until you hear what Sven and his students have come up with for Fjordlandi now that they know they’re free to speak of it.” She drew back, silver-and-gold hair blowing into her face. “Later. For now, you need a long bath and a good dinner. Doctor’s orders.”
Kyrja felt a tired smile creep onto her lips. “Yes, doctor.” She let Dania lead her to the palace, to her room, only half-listening to her friend’s easy chatter as she bathed, changed, and waved away the maid who offered to do her hair.
