Chapter 22 #2
“This is nothing but wild speculation,” Kyrja said.
She took a sip of water, ice cubes clinking where there’d been none in what he handed her.
“And wild speculation is not worth the collapse of my nation. Especially since it isn’t as though Ellas is in mortal danger if you don’t introduce magic in the next generation. ”
He was silent for a beat, two. “You presume to understand our motivations—don’t.
You also presume that Fjordlandi cannot survive without you—an assumption challenged by your own long history.
Are you truly so prideful, agapoula, that you think yourself indispensable after so short a tenure as queen?
You surprise me.” A lift of a black brow.
“And not in the way you did when you defeated your father and his High Council.”
If he called her his “little love” again… Nik’s cup of water began to steam.
Kyrja stared at the rising vapor for a long moment, then shifted back toward the image.
“It has nothing to do with pride and everything to do with the chaos I know well I’ve thrown the government into.
I have been working on reestablishing order, but my High Council is not yet full and is certainly not balanced.
I had been counting on the two weeks remaining in the month I had to appoint the new members.
Please, if you would just grant me that—”
“Then what? You’d come willingly?” Stefanos scoffed. “You are surely not fool enough to think me fool enough to fall for that.”
“So what’s your plan then? To hold me in a crystal chamber for the next twenty years? Force yourself upon me?”
The very suggestion made Nik’s blood heat so fast, he had no choice but to tangle his fingers with hers, lest he melt the glass in his other hand. Partly for the chill she lent him—partly as a silent promise that he would not let that happen.
Somehow.
She squeezed his fingers.
Stefanos gave no indication that he saw the move, though that didn’t mean much.
“I was under the impression that you were a woman of honor as well as reason. That you would choose of your own free will to do the right thing, uphold the law, and protect your nation through our Accord.” He leaned close again, and his arm came into frame as he reached toward the recorder.
“Uphold your end of the contract willingly, or I will use every means at my disposal to ensure you do.”
Kyrja’s fingers squeezed Nik’s hard. “And what do you mean by that? That you’ll fire on our domes?”
Stefanos’s brows lifted, that smug little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth again.
“Would I do such a thing? Without an official declaration of war, without the sworn statements of the other kingdoms, granting my rights to said war? Would I become the aggressor, when all I really need to do is wait for bureaucracy to grant me all I desire?”
The last of the water in Nik’s glass boiled off. “I wouldn’t put it past you. Everyone knows Ellas is a war-mongering—”
“Everyone,” the king interrupted, “knows very little about Ellas, as it turns out. I will say it again. Do not presume that you understand my motives. I do what I do to guarantee my kingdom survives. No less than either of you would do.”
The image flickered to nothing.
Kyrja dashed the glass to the floor, though the way it skidded rather than breaking surely didn’t provide the satisfaction she sought.
Nik set his own down and went to investigate the wall.
He was no expert on crystal recorders or players, but—there.
He found the device in a vase of silk flowers on the end table, plucked it out, and squeezed his fist around it until it was nothing but goo and smoke.
Record that, Stefanos. “Help me search, see if there are any others.”
She nodded. They scoured every inch of the chamber, as well as the attached bathing room—in which they ran the water only to find that it must have some sort of crystal valve work. It came only in spurts before cutting off, the drains cycling as well.
Discouraging, yes. But at least they’d turned up no other recorders or players. He could only pray they’d been thorough enough. “It’s as safe to talk as we can make it, I guess.”
“Good. I have an idea.” Kyrja’s fingers covered his. “What’s the melting point of crystal?”
“Hmm?” He pulled his gaze from the place where the recorder had been to her face, realization dawning. Though it didn’t bring his hopes up any. “High.”
“How high?”
“Too high, probably, depending on the type. There are crystal formations inside Helviti. They can clearly withstand the heat. And I’m not well trained yet.” Still, he studied the clear walls that created a barrier between them and the regular wooden walls of the ship.
“Exactly—you still overheat when your emotions are high. What if we can harness it? They built this room with me in mind, but you, Nik…he couldn’t have planned for you.
” She scurried to the porthole, visible through the crystal, if out of reach.
“We had to have sailed from Reykstoll, which is on the side of Fjordlandi farthest from Ellas. Even without my help, there’s a lot of cloud cover this time of year, and they must have depleted their energy reserves last night.
I’d bet Perla and perhaps some of the Blessed, if they know what happened, are setting the tides against their oars.
The ship is moving slowly. That’s still home out there. ”
He hadn’t even looked out the window yet, but he did so now and saw one of the familiar crags of the Ring, smoke rising from the cone.
Not Helviti—he knew the biggest volcano intimately at this point, its shape from all angles.
But given that irregular slope, it was a peak he knew even better, in some ways.
From sight, if not yet from inside. Mt. Radsla.
On the other side of which was Harroby dome.
Home. Not only Fjordlandi still, but home. The very peak he’d seen every day from the abandoned kyrka. That glint of dull sunlight behind it was from the dome that had protected him and captured the heat for his family’s farms for generations.
They’d only sailed to the west sixty miles or so. It would take days, at this rate, to get out of Fjordic waters.
If he could punch even a small hole through the crystal, give her access to the waters surrounding them, then all they’d have to do was make for shore.
And pray whatever outcasts lived on the icy shores between them and home were in a hospitable mood.