Chapter 16 #2
She tried not to pay any attention to Nik’s black leather pants and shirt that got more personalized every day.
Better fitting, as the heat molded it to his form.
More scrollwork and detailing, which was apparently a rite of passage—or one of few pastimes available to them—Below.
Definitely worthy of the stares she knew he and the others earned every time they stepped foot outside.
The Aflame were causing quite a stir in Reykstoll.
But though she’d personally witnessed small children screaming and running away from the glowering Daemon, she’d also seen Eldrid juggling flaming rocks to entertain them and people swarming the smiling Nik, who’d gained celebrity status after the Coronation Ball.
Not the way she’d imagined introducing them to Fjordlandi, no—but it had been effective.
First in showing the kingdom what they could do, but also in making clear where they stood.
And showing them that while the Blessed were known for their impenetrable facades in public, Nik hadn’t been afraid to laugh before the whole assembly.
There were countless images circulating of the two of them, smiling and laughing during their dance.
She knew very well that speculation accompanied the images.
Enough that Arne had come by this morning to suggest she call for a Test. She needed to marry soon, he said. Get about the business of heirs.
She’d cursed her thane’s complexion as heat seared her cheeks.
The councilman had just given her a stern look. “Perhaps the idea of romance thrills the thanes,” he’d said, “but the Fjorders expect more of their queen. You need a Blessed Union that will provide you with a strong heir. That’s the only thing that matters.”
But was it? She stole another glance at Nik and couldn’t deny that her heart fluttered every time he walked into a room.
Not just at the sight of him, though she couldn’t blame the young women of Reykstoll for the sighs she’d heard when he walked by them on his way to the Grand Kyrka.
But because of that quick smile, the way he pointed always to the Giver, the humility she’d seen within moments of meeting and every day after, as he sat in that horrid prison cell and didn’t once complain.
She didn’t want to sign a contract with a stranger whose blood the Test said matched hers. She wanted a marriage, covenantal and forever. She wanted a husband who would love her and serve Fjordlandi beside her. Was that so much to ask?
It could be him. The way his blood had zapped through her when she finished his Awakening, the way she swore she could still feel it thrumming in her veins every time their hands brushed, that magnetic pull toward him…it could be him. He could be her best match.
But what if he wasn’t? What if the Test didn’t even know what to make of Aflame blood? If she took the Test, then she’d know, and she’d be expected to abide by it.
What if she didn’t? What if she refused?
There would be outrage, at least among the Fjorders.
Their scientists had spent centuries creating and perfecting the Machine that ran the Test. There was only one in the entire world.
One Machine, and three doctors who fully understood it.
It was the pride of Fjordlandi, their guarantee that though the Blessing didn’t seem to follow the same rules here that it did in other realms, they would still always have their magic, their Awakened.
Perla’s continual presence, though, did make Kyrja wonder at the why.
Why, in Daryatla and the Sunken Kingdom and even in Soltierra, could two Awakened produce a child with strong magic, while it didn’t seem to work that way here?
It had been tried countless times before the Test, and even in opposition to it, when nobles were convinced they knew better than whatever elusive science the Test employed.
But where King Seidon, descended from a whole line of Awakened, was arguably the strongest magical person in the world, those born of two Blessed in Fjordlandi could scarcely make a snowflake.
“The Giver’s ways are his alone,” Nik had said when they’d been musing about it over dinner the other night. “I suppose he knew that Fjordlandi needed something different.”
Her whole soul twisted. Maybe it did. But that different would mean that she couldn’t follow her heart. Because while it could be Nik that the Test pointed to, centuries of history said it wouldn’t be.
Two Awakened were never matched. Never.
Ice glazed over all her budding hopes every time she thought of it. She should protect herself from it, pull away, take care to view him only as a friend.
But heat radiated off him like a comforting hearth. She didn’t mean to lean closer, but before they’d turned the first corner, her arm had found its usual place, woven around his.
The way he sighed and relaxed at her touch made her wonder if it was a comfort to him, too.
“Did you visit with Leif again this morning?”
He nodded, that smile she was quickly coming to rely on gracing his lips. “And I didn’t so much as scorch a pew this time. We decided to start a daily prayer time each morning. You’re welcome to join us.”
The idea brought a flood of peace. She probably shouldn’t take the time away from her duties.
But maybe she should. Maybe that was exactly what she needed to do.
Give time first to the Giver and then trust that he’d help her through the rest of the day.
“That sounds wonderful. I’d love to join you.
And how went the training with Daemon?” she asked as the first scents of dinner found her nose and brought her stomach to life.
“Good, I guess. Daemon says I’m a natural. Which he also says makes no sense because Elianne is apparently the worst of the bunch.” He lifted a hand and rubbed at his neck. “Pretty sure that was intentional on her part.”
The glance he darted her way was the awkward one they exchanged whenever either was reminded of the designs her father had apparently had on his mother.
Daemon had filled Kyrja in that first day while Nik was rushed into the lava bath, and apparently Elianne had confessed it to him before his next trip to the surface.
She still hadn’t wrestled that one into a place in her mind where she could lock it away with a click of the ice.
As angry as Fodur had been after the attack, she’d thought…
well, she’d thought that somewhere inside, he had genuine love for his family—not Kyrja, of course, but the rest of them.
For Mamma, who’d stood by his side through fifty years of union.
For Einar, who had been the perfect Heir, never once disappointing him.
For Krystiana, who had been more like him in personality than any of them.
But he’d already had his next wife waiting. Biding his time for Mamma to die. That made Kyrja sick to her stomach, but even so, it made sense. In a way.
Except that she couldn’t square his disregard for her siblings.
They were everything the Blessed were supposed to be, by his definition.
He’d seemed to take what little joy he allowed himself in life from them and their accomplishments.
He’d encouraged them to strengthen their magic and push past their limits.
What had he meant to do with them, if Tristan’s attack hadn’t been so successful? Assume he’d outlive them, if he kept his own magic strong? Challenge them so he could remove them? And then what? Imprison them, kill them?
Questions she couldn’t help ask but refused to pursue answers to. That would require speaking with her father. Something she was determined to avoid.
“Any luck tracking down Raf?” A safer question, for sure, if just as elusive. His friend had obeyed her a little too well, it seemed. He must be in hiding somewhere obscure, otherwise he’d surely have heard about recent events and come searching for Nik.
Unless…unless. Every day she found new evidence of thanes who just vanished from the streets or villages, no explanations ever given to their families.
Sometimes, there were matching entries of Fjorders lobbing trumped-up accusations of vandalism or theft or disrespect.
Of patients “beyond the help of the village healers” who matched the descriptions of supposed volunteers for Fjorder medical research.
Dania had paled when Kyrja had shown her those. It wasn’t impossible, she’d said. But working in a free clinic, she didn’t move in the circles of the researchers who would have been responsible. Though she’d put out some feelers with mutual friends to confirm or deny.
Nik perked up. “I think so, actually. I had an answer to my note to my mentor indicating someone was clearly inhabiting the old kyrka I mentioned. He’d tried to get him to reveal himself, but Raf would be thinking he’s putting Brother Gylfi in danger so wouldn’t want him to know he was there.
I volunteered to join the journey to Mt.
Radsla, so I can check,” he said of the volcano closest to Harroby.
“Oh good.” And it was. Except for the part of him traveling so far, which meant his warm presence would be gone for at least a week, possibly two.
A good idea, really—maybe a bit of space between them would help her tamp down the rising feelings for him.
And yet it brought nothing but dread to her stomach.
“Your family is still eager to go, then?”
Nik smiled. “Like children at Yule. They’ve been doing what they can from here for years, of course, but familiarizing ourselves with the actual mountain will make it much easier.”
She could understand that. Keeping Reykstoll harbor frozen but for the shipping lanes was much easier than working with the unfamiliar waters on the far side of Fjordlandi. She barely had to even think about the nearest waters to…
“Kyrja?”