Phoenix nodded, giving Kyrja a smile as she sat up.
Nik’s leg went warm with the absence of her coolness, but he made himself focus on the conversation instead of the instinctual need to reach out for her, draw her against him again. “Fire,” he said, calling some into the palm of his hand.
“And earth?” Shoving her mass of hair back from her face, Kyrja repositioned herself so that her side just brushed Nik’s, sending her snow-blanket scattering. “Have we seen that Awakened? Is that the lava?”
“No, though I grant it could seem like it, given how lava can create new earth. But there is another gift that still sleeps.” Phoenix looked about to say more.
Raf interrupted him, head in his hands. “Wait. Seraph? What…is that an…?”
“Angel. The flesh I wear now, I cannot hold very long at a time before my nature must break free.” He pressed the flint blade to his palm, and light spilled out instead of blood, healing over before their gasps had dissipated. He grinned. “This form does have blood, mind you. I can harness the elements to take on any form—we all can, angel and daemon alike. This is part of the gift Elyon has given to mankind, through us, after the Great Cataclysm. To equip humanity for this epoch.”
“So you really are like Queen Arden’s mother.” Kyrja leaned into Nik’s side, making his soul give a happy sigh. He slid an arm around her.
How could he feel at home, here in the frozen wastelands, the moment she did that?
Phoenix nodded, lips turned up again. He certainly smiled more than Daemon did. “We were two of several seraphs called before Elyon and given this choice. To take on human flesh for the purpose of sharing part of our nature with mankind. The one your friend Perla and her family call Ora chose a man she’d been watching as her husband, in the land you call Daryatla. I chose a woman here in Fjordlandi as my wife.”
Nik’s fifth-great grandmother. Daemon’s mother. He had to wonder what she’d been like, to capture the attention of an immortal, a created but undying being.
Kyrja gave a slow shake of her head. “But…Perla said something about tiny machines in our blood. Nanites. That the ancient humans had created.”
That arch of Phoenix’s brow looked exactly like Daemon. “You think the Most High cannot create anything that man can?That he cannot take it, change it, use it as he sees fit? You think that, perhaps, this was not his perfect timebecauseof those nanites?”
She drew back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
Phoenix chuckled. “Be easy, Majesty. You have many years yet to wrestle with who Elyon is—and he is deep enough, mysterious enough that even the long life ahead of you will be insufficient.”
Kyrja relaxed against Nik. “I know I have much to learn.”
“The human mind will never fully grasp Elyon. It is the trying that matters. The seeking heart.”
How strange it was to hear such words coming from a mouth that looked so like Daemon’s. Though when Kyrja shuddered, Nik’s attention moved from Phoenix back to the woman at his side. “What is it? Your father?”
“He’s fighting me for the currents I have holding the triremes away from our shores.” Her voice sounded strained, taut. “I don’t even know if it’s doing any good. What’s the range on their canons?”
Phoenix leaned against a rock. “The king of Ellas will not fire on the domes.”
“He was bluffing?” Did Phoenix know that, or was he just guessing? Nik had no idea how much of the Giver’s will a seraph was privy to.
“He is not the monster you think him.” Phoenix’s lips turned up into a strange smile. “He is worse. And better. One of Elyon’s more complicated creations. But he is intrigued by your offer, Majesty. Elyon assures me you have guaranteed your people’s safety—and also that the king will seek youon the throne and not your father.”
Raf turned toward them. “What offer?”
Nik looked down at Kyrja. Her brows were knit. “I don’t know, actually. I left him a note saying I had something hewanted more than he wanted a bride. It was a bluff. I was hoping to intrigue him enough to stay his hand and give us time to come up with a real offer while I secured the government and established the rest of the High Council.”
Chuckling, Phoenix pushed to his feet. “Perhaps you don’t yet know what you have, Majesty. But Stefanos does. There is indeed something he wants far more than one Fjordic bride whose blood may or may not be compatible with Ellesian blood for making magic. Something he asked your father for first—something your father refused.”
Nik sucked in a breath. The wordscompatibleandbloodandmagicequaled one thing.
“The Machine for the Test?” Kyrja pushed to her feet too. Which of course meant Nik rose with her, rather than let his side be empty. “I can’t hand over the one piece of technology Fjordlandi has that the other kingdoms don’t.”
Phoenix spread his hands. “I didn’t say you must. I said it was the thing Stefanos wants more than he wants you. It is the thing currently guaranteeing he will not fire on your domes even if the other kingdoms give him permission, and that he will side with you above your father. You may not have intended your note to read like that is what you were offering—but it is how he read it.”
Kyrja leaned into Nik again, but this time it felt to him more like she actually needed support, rather than that she wanted the comfort of his touch. “The cost is too high. I cannot—I cannot choose my own life, my own happiness above the thing that sets our people apart, gives us an edge.”
“Can’t you?” Phoenix moved his gaze from Kyrja to Nik. What was that, shining in his eyes? Something more than the reflection of the flames. “Your Test is a guillotine hovering over the throats of your people, Majesty. One word from the Councils, that a Fjorder has been chosen to receive a Blessed Union, and every heart under the domes freezes. Your Test doesn’t care ifthe thanes tested are already wed, have families. It does not care who they may be in love with, or what responsibilities they have at home that they’ll be taken from.”
When she stiffened at his side, Nik rubbed a hand over her back. “Things we can fix, Kyrja. You can remove the demand that all thanes of a given age be tested, can make it voluntary—”
