She could feel the pulse he sent, not through the lava he’d be using, but through the springs. Would Perla sense it too? The princess didn’t have to be here tonight, of course, but she’d claimed they needed all the eyes on the snake—and ears on his words—that they could get, and Kyrja hadn’t had any desire to argue. But she of course wouldn’t know to come an hour earlier than planned. Kyrja herself was only here this early to allow her guards to get into position and give herself time to pace off her nervous energy.
Get through tonight, that was the foremost order of business right now. Then, tomorrow, she would start paying even closer attention to the Blessed during their talks. She had less than two weeks remaining to choose her new High Council, or she’d forfeit her right to appoint the replacements. She’d considered finding a way to eliminate the competition for the High Council seats altogether, but the people might object to that. Even the thanes enjoyed watching the recordings, according to Nik and his family. Perhaps it would be enough to have the Aflame, all thanes, on it along with the Blessed. She had no doubt they could hold their own against the Blessed in the arenas, and it would be quite a show. Fire versus ice.
Laila and Magnus would be her first two appointees, after the Aflame. That was the way she was leaning now, anyway, after their words that morning. Their demonstration. The way she could still feel their magic undergirding hers, letting her focus more on the Ice Prison.
Perhaps, with their help, she’d actually be able to sleep tonight.
“Come on, everyone.” She glanced to the tunnel—still empty. To the skies—no brown-clad woman soaring on the air currents. Down the slope.
Frost it. Neither angle nor snow had slowed the logade a bit. They’d be here in a matter of minutes.
“You’ll be fine.” Nik gave her a warm smile and swept his gaze over her. “Also, wow. I hadn’t even paid attention to the dress, but…”
She grinned through the tingle his words inspired. “My dressmaker outdid herself.” The gown was eye-catching, to be sure. The fact that Nik hadn’t even noticed it at first, so set was he on her? That was as much the cause of the tingles as the compliment.
The vibration of marching feet stole her attention, and a minute later, the hoplites’ bronze helmets appeared. Then the red-caped shoulders. The muted gold uniforms. The soldiers spilled onto the plateau, peeling off into two lines as usual.
And there was Stefanos, in the middle. He looked every inch the king tonight, from the gold of his laurel-leaf crown to the tailored red tunic and black trousers with their gold embroidery and accents. No coat nor gloves. Perhaps he’d begun to acclimate. “Good evening,” he called out as he headed toward them, an easy smile on his lips. “A lovely spot you chose for our gathering. I couldn’t resist coming out early to try for a view of the sunset over the harbor. I hope you don’t mind.”
She had, in fact, parted the clouds to let that sunset shine on them, needing the cheer it provided.
“I begrudge no one the chance to appreciate the beauty with which the Giver crafted our world.” Such expressions still felt a bit odd coming off her tongue. And yet right. Every time she said or thought them, she could hear the same Song that had sung for her each time she attended services at the Grand Kyrka.
And she could feel Mamma smiling down on her.
Stefanos, rather than pausing before her to bow, moved to her side and faced the harbor, drawing in a long breath of appreciation. “Truly beautiful. I look forward to many visits to Reykstoll with you, Kyrja—and I assure you, you will find Ellas just as stunning—if a great deal warmer. I’m afraid we never seesnow. We can discuss how to divide our time between them, and when logic dictates we each go to our own domains for a time. I already have some ideas for a workable schedule.”
Of course he did. And apparently they were beginning now, if unofficially. She cleared her throat and eased a few inches away from him and closer to Nik. “I’m certain your homeland is as beautiful as you say, and I do hope to visit someday, Your Majesty. But tonight we will be renegotiating the contract per your other suggestion—Elianne has volunteered to be your bride.”
His exaggerated sigh was the last response she’d expected. “A shame. You force my hand, Kyrja.”
What? No. She pivoted to face him, Nik moving with her, so that their shoulders touched. Good. She would take all the strength she could borrow. “You said you would be happy to take Elianne in my stead.”
“I said that I would take another bride whose magic was as strong as yours.” His gaze shifted from her to Nik. “I mean no disrespect to your very lovely mother, Nikanor, but she is the weakest of your clan.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Nik began radiating heat, but he had the good sense to rest his hand on her back, to siphon some of her chill. Good.
Stefanos shook his head. “Honestly. You need to ask? Your primal jumped to her defense as if I—harmless mere human that I am—could have hurt her. Obviously in part his response was because of his feelings for her, but that wasn’t all. I’d wondered. I saw that when she was helping you regulate, it clearly cost her. Sweat lined her hairline in moments. Meanwhile, Kyrja was holding the thirteen most powerful Blessed in prison, controlling a continent’s weather, managing the ice in the harbors, and had attention to spare to create that lovely snow-globe in the dining room. Hence my little test, to see if theprimal would have to intervene.” Another shake, and a click of his tongue. “Hardly equal.”
“It isn’t as simple as you think.” Kyrja felt like a complete beast, trying to convince this man to marry her friend’s mother. “Elianne was in fact hand-selected by my father to be his next wife, after my mother died. He sent her into the mountain nearly thirty years ago to train, but she had refused to do so as a silent rebellion. Think of it as a man with the bone structure and musculature of one of your greatest athletes, with natural talent but who hasn’t dedicated himself to training yet. When put to the test in that state, he won’t win the games or the races. But once he does start training?”
“My mother wants to do this.” Nik’s heat had begun to subside. “She will serve both our lands well because it is her desire. You will need to give her access to Mt. Therios or another of your volcanoes, of course, but she will improve quickly now that she is setting her mind to it.”
“You misunderstand me.” Stefanos twitched a hand, and each of the thirty hoplites clicked their booted heels together and shifted. “I am intrigued by this fire magic, yes. Very much so. And certainly curious as to whether the newness of it gives the magic in your blood a strength that could be useful to me. Perhaps, if her raw ability matched her beauty, I would consider it a risk worth taking. But it is not skill that I need. It is proven power. Power scientifically bred by your Test, and from the information I have managed to gather in the last two days, the blood of the Aflame has not been Tested against other blood in the same way. When they are discovered, they are generally eradicated. Which does call your people’s scientific method into question.”
How in the snow had he gotten that information? Even if the Fjorder physicians were angry with her for turning the countryon its head, they surely knew that selling state secrets to the king of Ellas, of all people, would have disastrous consequences.
What were the hoplites doing now? They’d all pulled their red capes over their right shoulders….
As she wondered, Stefanos clapped his hands, and each of his soldiers pulled out a short metal tube that looked like a miniature cannon and pointed them up at the mountain.
A second later, a concussion sounded from each of the tubes—and then came the screams of her Vektors.
Even as she spun to see them all collapsing, red blooming through their uniforms, she was acting. Ice, snow, frost—she wielded them all at once, calling on the springs in the mountain, the clouds up above, the moisture in the air. She let loose torrents of freezing rain upon the hoplites, froze their boots to the ground, packed their weapons with ice.
Stefanos reached out, gripped her wrist.
And the ice stopped. Her connection with it vanished. She could still feel it, hear it, see it, but she couldn’t touch it.
