Her moment came after a few minutes of hiking, when sounds of distress from the plateau reached her ears—the Aflame must have arrived. Her captor turned his head just a bit, perhaps to see if they were within view.
It was likely the best opportunity she would have. She fisted the icicle necklace she wore and jabbed it into the hoplite’s neck, in the two bare inches between helmet and breastplate.
He swore, flinched, and she kicked. Not successfully enough that he would have dropped her, but enough that his hand lost contact with her leg for a second.
A second was all she needed. The connection to the water around her sang again, and she froze the blood in his veins, put a coating of ice all over him, and then slid free.
Victory gathered with her first running step, burst with her second.
Then something collided with her temple, and the world went black.
21
Daemon wanted to make the volcano shout. Wanted to rain fire down on all of Reykstoll. Wanted to send a ball of it toward the triremes hovering just outside Fjordlandi waters. And maybe he would have, if he had a clue which one had Nik and Kyrja on it or dared to assume that if he set the thing on fire, they’d find a way out.
For all he knew, they were unconscious, like he’d been until twenty minutes ago. He and the rest of his family had been hurrying to the surface at Nik’s call, only to feel their power gutter out the moment they stepped foot Above, when Ellesian soldiers grabbed them, then knocked them out with blows to the head.
If he set the entire fleet ablaze, they could die. Kyrja would be susceptible to the flames. Nik to the waters that would be quick to crowd in.
And that was assuming they lived, that it had been kidnapping and not murder the Ellesians had committed.
Perla, when she’d found them, had reported seeing them both being dragged onto a trireme, Kyrja lax but Nik fighting.
His newest Aflame, then, was alive. As for the queen?
Well, he just had to trust that Stefanos didn’t want a dead bride. Just as he had to assume that Elianne’s offer had been refused.
They ought to have known the snake wouldn’t take an unknown quantity when he could, by rights, have a queen.
He strode past the last of the windows and looked out to sea, even though he couldn’t see the Ellesian vessels from here. Another part of the problem. He couldn’t sense them in the water like Kyrja or Perla could. He’d be raining fire without aiming, if he tried it.
“I should have been there.” It was the ninth time Perla had muttered it since she’d wakened them all with water in the face and told them they’d better hurry to the Ice Prison, if they didn’t want Isidor and the old High Council to break free in the next hour. “I shouldn’t have risked a rendezvous.”
Daemon sliced a gaze her way but said nothing. The first time she’d muttered it, and had confessed that she’d been seven miles out at sea giving a report to one of her father’s people during Stefanos’s raid, he’d silently agreed. She should have been here instead of there. If she had been, everything could have gone differently. From the skies, she could have evaded those destructive hands of the Ellesians, and…
What? Pelted them with rain? Blown them off the mountain with a gale? Would it have made a difference? She was still one woman against a regiment of the most elite fighters on the planet, fighters well trained to withstand the elements, natural or otherwise.
“Your loyalty is to your own people first,” Ember said from behind him. “No one faults you for that.”
Some of them did. Elianne’s body pulsed with heat. He’d never seen her so furious, so out of control, in all the years he’d known her. If she couldn’t get a handle on it by the time they reached the prison, he’d have to make her stay outside.
He looked to Perla as they turned the last corner before the stairs into the prison. “Still holding?”
“Barely.” Despite the cold in the palace corridors, sweat gleamed on her forehead and dripped down her neck. She wore her honey-brown leathers, at least, instead of a ridiculous gown. Not that the clothing would aid in her attempts to maintain Kyrja’s locks, but as distracted as she was, long skirts might have tripped her up. “Saltwater is my forte—ice doesn’t sing to me like brine does. And those Blessed are all attacking at once, with what I seriously hope is renewed vigor, otherwise I’m about to have an identity crisis over here and whine about how much stronger than me Kyrja is, despite being a wee bit younger.”
If he dared to smile at her, she’d probably remember to make one of her ridiculous flirtatious remarks, so he kept his mouth neutral and felt for the veins of lava nearest them. “I only need you to maintain it until we’re down there. Once I can positively identify the spring that feeds the locks, I’ll be able to work my way backward and replace the water with lava.” He and Kyrja had spent several hours, over the last two weeks, discussing, diagramming, and planning the new locks they both agreed they needed as soon as possible. But it was a complicated process. He couldn’t sense the water, she couldn’t sense the lava, so they’d had to make their own separate maps to a careful scale and then overlay them.
He’d known they were close. Another hour or two, and they’d expected to be able to implement the change from a distance, which would allow the young queen to rest for the first time in weeks.
They’d just have to hope they’d been close enough that he could bully his way through any gaps. Proximity would help.
Temperatures dropped as they descended the stairs and approached the guard-protected entrance to the Ice Prison. Theguard snapped to attention at their approach, suspicious gaze flicking from one of them to the next. “State your business.”
Daemon tensed. He’d never been down here before, and he knew none of his Aflame had either. Had Perla? He didn’t think so. Which meant they were just six strangers about to demand entrance to the most fortified place in all Fjordlandi.
“To whom are you loyal?” Perla shoved back a few brown curls clinging to her sweaty face. “Valkyrja or Isidor?”
The guard frowned. “I am loyal to Fjordlandi.”
