She winked at him. “I’ve got it. You just keep melting the ice under your feet like you’re doing. I can use it to propel us.”
He was…? Of course he was. As soon as he focused on it, he could feel himself drawing heat continually up from the magma streams beneath the stone of the floor, which of course melted the ice. She must be continually refreezing it. But now he felt a pool of water directly under his feet, and he slid a bit in the puddle.
Within moments, they were sliding around together, twirling and gliding without ever moving their feet. The crowd cheered, and Nik couldn’t help but laugh and pull her a little closer. For balance, that was all.
She angled a smile up at him. “Thank you, Nik. If you hadn’t come out…”
His fingers pressed encouragement into her waist. “You risked everything for me. I will gladly spend the rest of my life returning the favor.”
Emotion welled in her eyes, and she pressed her lips together. Something he knew no Blessed queen would have allowed before, at least not in recent history.
He loved that she felt so much, without shame. And also took pity on her and grinned. “Sorry about almost burning down your arena.”
Her laugh rang out again. “Perhaps your family will help me replace the wood with stone. Make it a bit more fireproof for future exhibits.”
He glanced up, not to try to find his family, but to gauge the faces of those they passed. He expected to see fear, revulsion directed at him—and there were a few eyes in which that was reflected. Mostly, though, he saw curiosity. Amazement. Maybe a bit of awe.
He’d forced the introduction, yes, after he’d been the one to say that could come later. They’d shown Reykstoll exactly who they were, what they could do—and also made it clear that they served Fjordlandi and the queen. Not a bad turn, he hoped. If they reinstituted Challenges and the Aflame took part in them too…well, that could be fun.
But they’d definitely want to make sure they didn’t burn down the arena around them. “I daresay that can be arranged.”
16
Two Weeks Later
Who knew that winning thirteen Challenges at once and then pushing back a lava flow in the arena would be the easy part of becoming queen? Kyrja nearly snarled when Henrik put yet another crystal on her desk, which already looked like the inside of a geode. She’d have told herself that he was only doing his job and not trying to make her life difficult, but honestly, she couldn’t rule out sabotage. It was exhausting, being able to trust so few people. She had Arne as an ally now, and the Aflame.
But the Blessed? They continued to be a thorn in her side. And Henrik’s loyalty was to his Blessed kin.
Of course, she had requested he compile lists of every act in her father’s rule that didn’t meet the standard of justice for both Fjorders and thanes…so the mountain of crystals was her own fault, in a way.
She forced a smile. A confident lift to her chin. “Thank you. That will be all.” And held it together until the door closed behind the smug-faced scribe. Then, only then, did she groan and let her head fall to the desk—though she took care not to disturb the style Dania had already fashioned for her for dinner.
“You only have two more weeks to fill your High Council.” Dania had been coming to the palace every day after the clinic closed and, even knowing it meant hours her friend was taking away from her family, Kyrja couldn’t bring herself to tell her to stop. Even if Dania did just drag her into her bedroom, pick out one of the new gowns that kept arriving daily to replace her destroyed wardrobe, and dismiss the maid and do her hair herself for the evening meal. As if they were still two schoolgirls playing, rather than a physician and a queen. Which gave her the perfect opportunity to point out all the things Kyrja was doing wrong.
Or “not yet doing right,” as Dania diplomatically put it. Every day, she came armed with new suggestions from her brother and, apparently, his lecture hall full of university students he’d long been leading in the “thought experiments” Fodur would have had him sacked for, if he’d known about them.
How had Fodur not discovered it? How had he not realized that some Fjorders, at least, were being taught to think beyond the strict lines of society? To view thanes as something more than animals? When she’d realized Sven was engaging students in those exercises and not just speaking of them in the privacy of Dania’s home, Kyrja had been genuinely flummoxed.
How had no one, in the ten years he’d been teaching at the university, reported him? The fact that they hadn’t—either convinced by his arguments or simply eager to have the conversations—lit a flame of hope in Kyrja.
Some of her subjects, at least, were open to change. Open to dialogue about it. Open to a society that didn’t require them standing on the backs of the thanes to get ahead.
Kyrja picked up a pink crystal that had lists of potential High Council members on it—several of whom had been stopping by every…frosted…day. She’d granted Laila an audience on the firstday, and the woman had sounded sincere. But how was she really to know?
Some of the Fjorders were excited at the prospect of a new society. Excited at the thought of getting to elect members to the Great Council who would serve everyone, not just those at the top of the political and social ladder. But the Blessed? There was a limited pool of them, and competition among them had always been fierce. The High Council, filled only with the magical, wielded far more power than the much-larger Great Council with its elected officials. The Blessed had always said whatever they had to say to the monarch to secure favor.
How was Kyrja to know if Laila was merely doing that, or if she believed the things she said?
Kyrja sighed. “I don’t know how to fill positions. I don’t know who I can trust. Every Blessed either hates me for turning the system on its head or wants to ingratiate themselves so they can be on the new High Council. I have installed the Aflame, but that’s only half the seats—and three of them said outright they wanted to be replaced as soon as I found someone else.”
Her friend raked a lock of hair back from her face. “Then ignore it all and come back to the clinic with me. Inoculation days are horrible without you.”
Part of her wished she could. Wished she could turn back time, go back to being the princess with no responsibilities or duties beyond the ones she’d designed for herself. Perhaps she’d been “pretty and useless,” but at least she hadn’t fallen into a guest bed each night exhausted, only to rise feeling like she’d spent the last six hours shivering on an iceberg.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You could always abandon your calling and take up a second career in politics. You’d have four uncontested years on the High Council.”
Dania snorted. “And then every Blessed left free would Challenge me, and you’d have an icicle for a best friend.” Shechecked the time, groaned, and stood from the chair she’d adopted as her own in Kyrja’s office, where they always ended their too-short time together. She brushed the wrinkles from her skirt. “I’m sorry. I need to get home.”
