It would be the quickest way to end things, if it came down to it. They’d all discussed it as a possible eventuality. It would be better than the unthinkable of killing each other. Better than the torture of dying of thirst. For them, sinking into the lava stream was like stepping into a warm bath. They did it all the time for that purpose, burning away impurities rather than rinsing them. Even their hair could withstand it, somehow.
But they still had to breathe. The lava would suffocate them eventually, and they’d drown in it, much like an Awakened or a mer who didn’t reach the surface of the sea before their breath failed.
Regardless, it wasn’t her choice. “I don’t want to die. I want to escape him. Perhaps you could say I was lost to the flow, but I could make my way to the surface? I wouldn’t dare show my face under a dome, I know that, but there are people out there in the wastes, aren’t there? The outcasts, the people who still live like the ancient-among-ancients, surviving on fish and wearing furs and building houses out of snow and ice.”
His breath gushed out. “You’d melt a hole through the ice and end up in the sea. There’s no land out that far in most places, aside from where the Great Forest looms—and that’s its own wild danger.”
Hopeless then. Like everything else. But she fastened on a wobbling smile. “Then let’s hope there are some mer who’ve gained a taste for cold water who can come to my rescue.”
Otherwise, she had thirty-six days to live. Because she would not trade her soul to the king.
9
Had Kyrja ever been out like this, in the city at night? Certainly not without a contingent of guards and for some purpose that had her family around her too. She’d never before had cause to slink through shadows or try to mask her identity, and she couldn’t decide if it was excitement at the forbidden or anxiety over the possible danger that had her blood charging through her veins.
“Over here.” Dania’s familiar whisper sounded from the shadows at which Kyrja had been aiming, and she found her best friend in clothes most definitely not her own, a duffle on her shoulder and indicating one for Kyrja as well. “Put these on. And for Himmel’s sake, tell me you didn’t wear your crown.”
Kyrja smiled and touched a hand to her bare head. “I’m not a complete idiot.”
“Says the princess sneaking through alleyways to find the friend of a prisoner.” But Dania unclasped the bag, shook out a thick sweater, and handed it over. “This first.”
Kyrja pulled the wool over her own blouse, the warmth of it first a comfort and then, within seconds, almost suffocating. As Dania had instructed, she’d worn one of her few pairs of trousers, normally donned only on an expedition through thetundra, along with a pair of knee-high leather boots similar to the ones she’d given Krystiana for Yule.
Tears burned the back of her eyes. She hadn’t evenlikedher sister. So why did she miss her so acutely, why did it keep hitting in odd moments?
“Next.” Dania held out a heavy coat. “Hood up, mittens on.”
“Seriously?Morelayers?” She took the outerwear, but she was already sweating.
“We need to pass for thanes. Fjorders would never be seen in the Gala Inn.” Her friend offered a cheeky smile. “Try not to look like you’re about to die of heatstroke.”
“I’m not so sure I won’t.” She slipped her arms into the coat and had the urge to pant. “Where did you get all of this?”
“Friends.” Dania, at the arched-brows Kyrja sent her, tilted her head. “Patients.”
All Fjorders interacted with thanes regularly—it was impossible not to. The thanes were the ones cleaning their houses, cooking their food, keeping their cities running. But to most of the aristocracy, they were invisible. To be ignored. Never befriended.
Dania had always been different, long before she chose to open a free clinic rather than cater to the elite like most doctors did. Oh, all physicians had to do their rotations in the domes, administering the inoculations that kept the population healthy enough to work. But for most, the goal was to end up in the Labs, where they could work on the sort of medicine that had a hope of advancing Fjordlandi in the eyes of the world. The sort that had led to the Test. Definitely not spending each day in the slums by choice.
Kyrja pulled the hood up, slid her hands into the gloves, and huffed as she slid the bag onto her shoulder. “All right. Let’s make this quick, before I pass out.” Already she had to squelch the need to fan herself.
A little warmth, she’d always loved. Leaning into Mamma, snuggling in. But this much? Far too many layers.
“It’s close. You’ll be fine for a few minutes.” Dania led the way out of the alley and onto Fyrst street.
Kyrja followed close behind, tilting her head up for the cooling kiss of the snow…which, yes, she called down on them a bit more exuberantly for the purpose. Being covered in snow would lend an excuse for why she kept her hood up inside. A thane would need more than a few minutes to warm up after getting caught in a squall.
The warm glow of lights spilled from the ground floor windows of the inn, making it look cheerful despite the peeling paint that even darkness couldn’t hide.
“Remember to talk like a thane,” Dania whispered, moments before she reached for the knob and pulled the door open.
Right. Mamma had lost her Harroby accent after all her years in the capital, and Kyrja hadn’t really spoken with Raf and Nik enough to imitate theirs…but she could put on the patterns of the Reykstoll thanes easily enough, after volunteering so often in the clinic. She summoned it now, stamping the new-fallen snow from her boots and rubbing her hands together as if they were cold as she approached the decrepit front desk. “Good even,” she said to the man behind it.
He glanced up, smile bright but eyes vague. No recognition in them—good. So far, anyway. “Good even, ladies. Need a room?”
“Yes, please.” They’d already discussed this and decided it was their best hope of getting information from the innkeeper. Kyrja had silver in her trouser pockets to pay for it. “Two nights, if possible.”
“Of course.” The man pulled a book forward, along with a pen. No data crystals here, it seemed. “One room or two?”
