Chapter 23
Waiting until nightfall had seemed the wisest course.
Kyrja didn’t know a lot about Ellesian technology, but spotting them in the dark had to be harder than during the day, right?
And the delay not only gave them time to plan and eat the food that came in through a series of air-tight compartments to regain their strength—and for Nik’s internal heat to build back up after she’d dissipated it—it also took the trireme a bit closer to Mt. Radsla.
They’d used the time to scheme, to find a way to stay Stefanos’s hand once he realized they were gone—because her escape meant violating that Accord. Breaking international law. He would be within his rights to declare war on Fjordlandi.
She had to make him think it would be in his best interest not to. So, after prayer, they’d penned a note. Silly, in a way. A note, to try to save her whole kingdom? But she couldn’t forget that wisdom about the Ellesians.
They value honesty above diplomacy. And wit above honesty.
She couldn’t forget how many times Stefanos had paused and said, “Interesting.”
That’s what they needed to be—interesting. Intriguing. Present him with the promise of knowledge, the promise of something more. I have something you want more than an unwilling bride.
It was a bluff. But hopefully he wouldn’t call her on it with his canons. Hopefully he’d just pursue her back to Reykstoll, and she’d have the days in between to think up a more permanent solution.
In the last bit of daylight, she thought she’d caught the motion of figures on the shore. Maybe just seals. Possibly polar bears. Quite likely people—who could either be the greatest boon or more dangerous than the bears.
Between them, she and Nik could defend themselves, yes, from either bears or humans. But she didn’t want to fight her own people for survival, even if the bands of roving outcasts considered themselves outside the law.
“Why?” she asked Nik as the blue of dusk set in, her gaze still on the now-shadowed shore. “Do you know? Why do they live like that? Who are they? I asked once, but Mamma said they weren’t to be spoken of, so I never dared to ask Fodur or Einar or Krystiana.”
Nik reached for her, then stopped himself, brow creasing. He had to build up all the heat he could, they’d already decided that. But not until then had she realized how often they’d taken to brushing fingers or holding hands or just leaning into each other.
How could someone become a habit in such a short period of time? In so many ways, she scarcely knew this man. They’d had many conversations, but all about lofty things like law and faith. She didn’t know the stories of his childhood or his favorite food or who his rival had been in school.
But she knew his heart. She knew his pain at losing his father and regaining his mother and unlocking a part of himself he hadn’t even known to wonder about.
She knew that when he was near, she breathed easier.
Carried her own burdens lighter. Felt warm and secure in a way she hadn’t since she was a child, snuggled up against Mamma’s side.
But more than that, she felt his fire in her own veins, felt the need to draw closer still, felt dreams taking shape inside her that she’d never thought to dream before his blood mixed with hers.
She wanted to get to know him better, over however much time the Giver would grant them.
She didn’t care what Stefanos claimed. Didn’t care what the Test might show. This man was her heart. The only one she wanted to spend the next decades—centuries, Giver willing—beside.
Nik moved to their single porthole and looked out into the gathering night, hands hooked in his pockets.
“They’re a mix. Some are revolutionaries, who live outside the domes so they don’t put their families at risk.
Some are criminals that ran away rather than be caught by the law.
But most are families who had no land to farm but didn’t want to be sent to the mines and couldn’t find housing or roles in the open cities.
Fifth sons or beyond, people who had debts they couldn’t pay.
” He sighed. “If Raf doesn’t get a track of land in the new dome in the next five years, that’s what he has to look forward to.
Would have been the same for me, since Pab sold our plot. It’s why we risked the old kyrka.”
Her chest went tight, and she had to clasp her hands behind her back to keep from reaching for him.
“I…I don’t know how to fix that, Nik. Do you?
There’s only so much land under the domes, and it takes so long, so many resources, to build one.
Will it be enough, that we open up more positions to thanes in Reykstoll and the other open cities? And even within the domes?”
“Thanes as teachers, thanes as men of law, thanes as artists and writers and engineers.” He smiled. But also shrugged. “I don’t know if it’ll fix the problem. The cities are still overcrowded too, and you’re right about the domes. But it’ll help.”
The first star winked to life over Radsla—the signal they’d given themselves. It was time for Nik to gather all the heat he could, time to melt a hole through the crystal. His shoulders went tense, and he nodded.
She swallowed past the distaste for the words she knew she had to say and spat out the wretched truths she knew would call to the fire in his blood.
“We don’t know that anything will help. We don’t know if we’ll survive this.
My father and his Council could already be out of the Ice Prison and wreaking havoc.
What if they’re undoing all the things we’ve done already?
It would only take them hours to sweep everything aside and reinstate the old ways.
And they’ll punish anyone who supported us. Anyone who knows us.”
She stepped farther away, gathered her cold to herself while he sucked in as much ambient heat as he could, generating the rest from his own emotions.
“They’ll hunt down Raf. His whole family.
And Brother Gylfi?” She shook her head. “They’ll find out about him too.
Fodur will kill him, Nik, and burn every kyrka he comes across to the ground.
He’ll banish the last strongholds of faith, make it entirely illegal, not just parts of it. ”
He closed his eyes. He was warming, yes, but not enough. She had to push him further. Giver, forgive me.
“Even if we succeed tonight, even if the prison held, it won’t be enough.
” The weight of it dragged her own fears from deep inside.
“I can’t change Fjordlandi if I’m not here—and Stefanos isn’t going to stop if we escape.
Perhaps we’ve bought some time, but he’ll come back, you know he will.
He’ll destroy the domes unless I consent.
I have to marry him. I have to pray he forgives this escape, pray we’ve intrigued him enough to stay his hand and that he gives me the time I need to set up the new High Council, to make sure Fodur’s never released, and then marry him.
We have to give him what he wants, or the whole kingdom will pay the price. ”
His skin flushed, his veins began to glow, even as hers went colder.
The breath she drew in shook. “I don’t know what else to do.
I could sink the triremes, maybe, when we get out.
Kill them all—or at least him, on this one.
But that would be a declaration of war, and I would be the aggressor.
I’d have broken the Accord of Nations. The rest would have to turn on me.
And I can’t do that, Nik. I don’t want to marry him, but I can’t kill him.
Any of them. That isn’t who I want to be.
Are their lives any less sacred to the Giver than ours? ”
She shook her head, tears making a glaze of ice on her eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this either. I don’t know how to fix anything, how to rule, how to agree to be Stefanos’s wife when you’re the one I’m falling in love with.”
He pulled a hand out of his pocket and pressed it to the crystal wall, eyes locked on hers.
“You don’t.” His voice sounded as choked as hers felt.
“You don’t marry him, Kyrja, no matter what.
You deserve more than a contract, more than someone who only wants you for what you can do for him.
You deserve someone who sees your heart and wants to give you the world, not make you give it to him. ”
She blinked away the tears, sending splinters of ice onto her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter what I deserve or don’t. Don’t you see? There’s no way out.”
“There’s always a way out. We just have to find it.” His hand glowed. The crystal held firm.
More, they needed more, but she didn’t think she could offer him any more pain, anything more to be angry about. Next on her mental list was bringing up his mother, but she didn’t have that cruelty in her.
So she’d switch tactics. They hadn’t discussed this one, but if it backfired, they’d simply have to start over, and she’d resort to whatever childhood trauma she had to. For now, she closed the gap between them, wrapped her arms around him, and came up on her toes to press her lips to his.
He didn’t object. His arms were around her in half a beat, his mouth angled over hers, and it took her a long moment to realize both hands were on her back, one moving up to her hair.
She barely had the presence of mind to grab the wrist of his marked hand, to guide it away from her head and toward the crystal.
She splayed it there, palm out, her own marked palm pressed to the top of his hand.
What if it was the end of them, this night? What if their escape attempt failed, if Stefanos took him from her, killed him? What if she didn’t see him for the next twenty years? Would this die away, this fire that had somehow been lit?