And the other kingdoms couldn’t intervene. Not if Fjordlandi broke an international Accord.
Without the domes to capture the geothermal heat from the vents, there was no agriculture. Banishing the clouds toallow sunlight on the open spaces wouldn’t help. Without the insulating cloud cover, all of Fjordlandi would be too frozen to allow for life.
And yet, Stefanos wasn’t the true threat. The true threat was Fjordlandi tearing itself apart from within, which was exactly what would happen if she didn’t step up. The time had come for change. The time had come for her tolead, not just hide in her office all day.
She took another step into the room, her gaze shifting of its own will back to the cluster of Aflame. To one of them specifically. Nik looked over at that moment too, spotted her, and strode away from his family, toward her.
His approach felt like a magnet, pulling her with more strength, the closer he got. Did he feel it too, this need to be near? She wanted to think so. It couldn’t always be her, could it, that reached out? That shifted until they touched? She was fairly certain that at least some of the time, it was him doing the moving. Half the time, she wasn’t even aware it had happened until she realized her hand or shoulder or arm or back was no longer cold. That it hadn’t been for a while.
It felt so right, being beside him. And yet not enough. One of these days, she wanted to actually wrap her arms around him. Nestle against him fully.
Press her lips to his and see if his fire shot through her veins like she suspected it would.
Thoughts she pushed aside, yet again, for another day. Another time. And summoned what she hoped was a merely-friendly smile as he slid to her side.
His hand came to a rest on the small of her back, making her forget what she should be focusing on instead. At least until he murmured, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Not them, this, whatever it was—but the greaterthem, the more importantthis, whateverthatwas. She surveyed thegroups, so distinct, so unyielding, and nodded. “If we’re going to forge a new Fjordlandi, it starts here. Now.”
Another door opened, on the side opposite the one Kyrja had slipped through, and Perla strode in without any of the stealth Kyrja had employed. But then, the Daryatlean princess had made her mark on the world with boldness. And sure enough, every eye turned her way as she made her entrance, even Sven halting his lecture to watch her move with unerring aim toward the line of chairs at the front of the room.
Ivar—who was here solely because he represented the ranks of Blessed Kyrja most needed to convince—stepped into Perla’s path, a slight sneer marring his perfect face. “And what areyoudoing here?”
Perla, of course, didn’t look at all perturbed as she drifted to a halt, her blue skirts swaying around her. She lifted her manicured brows. “Who, me?” She splayed a hand over her chest. “I guess I’m just very special. Isn’t that right, King of the Daemons?”
Though the words were obviously aimed at the cluster of Aflame and loud enough to reach them, Perla didn’t take her gaze off Ivar.
Nik’s hand tensed against Kyrja’s back. No doubt he, like she, wondered what response Daemon would make. If he’d ally himself with Perla or pit himself against her presence—even if that meant siding with Ivar.
Daemon folded his black-clad arms over his chest. “If by ‘special’ you mean there’s no one else like you, then we can only pray so.”
Kyrja’s breath released in a small whoosh of relief. He was playing their familiar game. And familiar, today, seemed good.
Perla looked away from Ivar long enough to blow Daemon a kiss. “Such flattery’s going to turn my head, hot and handsome.”
Daemon rolled his eyes. Ember buried a snicker in her husband’s shoulder.
Ivar’s nostrils flared. When Perla shifted to walk around him, he moved to block her again. “We are here to discuss matters of Fjordlandi, not international law or relations with Daryatla. You have no right to be here.”
Enough. Kyrja stepped forward, out of the shadows, glad when Nik matched her movements. “She’s here because I invited her. Just as I invited each of you. If you object to her presence and don’t wish to have a say in these proceedings, Ivar, you’re welcome to leave.”
He went stiff as he turned to face her. But the tic in his jaw was his only response.
There was no way he’d give up his own seat in this room, she knew that. Hence why she could walk with complete confidence to the center of the seven chairs arrayed at the front of the room. “If everyone would take your seats.”
Shuffling commenced, the six she’d invited to sit up here with her quickly taking their places. On her right, Arne, Sven, and Perla. On her left, Nik, Daemon, and Laila. Ivar, looking none too pleased not to be on the dais, glared as he took a seat in the front row, directly in front of Kyrja. Perhaps that would have bothered her more if Dania, bless her, didn’t take the seat right beside him, where she could offer an encouraging grin.
Kyrja smiled back, then directed it to the group at large. “Thank you all for joining me. In the interest of avoiding chaos, my chosen representatives for each people group are few, though everyone will be given a chance to ask questions and make their thoughts known. Laila and I represent the Blessed. Arne and Sven the Fjorders. Daemon and Nik are representing both the thanes in general and the Aflame in particular, and I’ve asked Princess Perla to weigh in with her outside perspective.”
“And by what authority are the two daemons to represent the thanes?” Ivar asked. “Last I heard, Nikanor Tristansson stood accused of treason as a co-conspirator with his father, the known leader of the Red Hands.”
Beside her, Nik went stiff.
But Kyrja only smiled again. “You will refer to them as ‘the Aflame’ or by name, Ivar, not as daemons—unless you’re speaking specifically to the primal and using his chosen name. But to your point, Nik had no knowledge of his father’s attack. You’re correct, however, that he’s familiar with the complaints of the thanes that Tristan brought before the Two Councils no fewer than three dozen times over the years. Which is one of the reasons I wanted him beside me. We will be satisfying their requests once and for all. Giving them a voice on the Great Council proportionate to their population, which means twenty-four seats instead of two. Allotting them resources also proportionate—wood, food, medicine.”
“What?” Ivar shot to his feet, outrage slipping between the fissures of his usual ice. “You would negotiate with terror-makers?”
Kyrja stared him down. “I make no excuses for what one man chose to do. But I also do not judge an entire people based on his actions. Moreover, after giving careful review to the many, many forms, complaints, requests, and supplications he filed in perfect order and which were summarily ignored for decades, I have decided that if my father and the Two Councils had adequately done their jobs in servingallof Fjordlandi, a group like the Red Hands never would have had to exist.Wewere the terror-makers long before Tristan ever built his bomb. Isidor, Axel before him, and each and every member of either Council who voted to ignore the pleas of our people.Weare to blame. Not Nik’s father.”
