Chapter 35
It had been the fastest she’d ever traveled, calling on the ice to move her, yet the longest journey of Kyrja’s life. She’d built a sledge of ice and snow to cradle her father’s body and pulled it along with her too, much as she’d sent him to the prison.
But that day, he’d been alive. Fighting her. Now he was gone. A singed and blistered shell who couldn’t hurt her anymore.
So why did it hurt?
He’d never loved her. Had resented her very existence. Even if she’d always done everything right by his definition, she knew now that she never would have won his approval—because her life interfered with his plans. Delayed what he’d wanted.
Some part of her must have still been hoping, praying, up until the last, that he’d look at her and say, “Well done, daughter.” That he’d recognize she was more than a weakling. Not a curse or his shame or the one who’d ruined everything.
But he hadn’t. And now he never could. Even while that relieved her, it hurt. Her father had tried to kill her, tried to destroy Fjordlandi to undo what she’d done.
She knew that behind her, a crowd had surged—not just in Reykstoll when she hit the city limits, but across the Ice Plains.
She could feel the sheer volume of them on the ice, pouring out of Harroby Dome and coming toward the city.
Even as she was desperate to know how they’d fared, whether any damage had been done, she needed to do this first.
Take her father’s body home. Thank the Blessed who had helped her. Face Stefanos.
Her going was slower in the city, where there wasn’t so much untouched ice and snow she could use to propel them.
But that was all right too. She slowed their pace and pushed on, toward the harbor where Nik and Elianne had promised to meet her, where she’d been urging Stefanos’s trireme.
As she walked, people emerged from houses and businesses and fell silently in behind her.
Her people. Thanes, in their wools and fur. Fjorders in their cottons and linens. Mingling in the street as she’d never seen them do before.
Fodur would have been furious. But she liked to think that the Giver in Himmel smiled down on them all.
The scent of salt and fish grew stronger, and then the harbor was in view, the sun shining down on the cluster of people standing before the massive ship.
Stefanos, once more in his state colors.
His logade behind him. A collection of Blessed—Laila, Magnus, many of the others she’d sensed helping her—stood intermingled with the Aflame.
And there, her very heart. Nik turned toward her, left Daemon’s side, and strode to meet her.
They’d only been apart for an hour, but even so, she welcomed his arms around her as if it had been a year.
They turned together toward the Ellesians, tugging her father’s ice-coffin along with her magic and letting it slide to a rest at the edge of the crowd.
Stefanos’s gaze shifted down to it, but if he was surprised to see Fodur in such a state, he didn’t look it. “It seems condolences are in order once again, Your Majesty.”
“As a daughter, I thank you. As the queen whose allies just put down a rebellion, we will accept your congratulations instead.” She looked away from the king, toward the strange assortment of Aflame and Blessed. “Thank you, friends. I could not have done it without you.”
The men bowed, the women curtsied. “It was our deepest honor to work beside you, Your Majesty,” Laila said. “To fight for a free Fjordlandi.”
Even Daemon had bent at the waist. “In your absence, my queen, I filled an interim High Council. I pray my choices please you.”
He sounded so very official that her lips wanted to twitch into a smile at the strangeness of it. “You did well, Lord Daemon. You all did. Now.” She turned back to Stefanos. “We have much to discuss. Would you like to adjourn to the palace?”
“I would not,” Stefanos said, voice easy. Posture perfect. “You have defied our Accord, Kyrja. You will make retribution—now, or I’ll be forced to appeal to the other kingdoms and declare war upon you.”
“As I indicated in my note, I believe I can make you an offer you would far prefer to me, Your Majesty.” She didn’t let herself glance at Nik, but she could feel him there, supporting her, his heat warming the unsure parts of her heart.
Stefanos tilted his head. “I’m listening.”
She didn’t spare a glance toward the Blessed, either, to see what they would think about this. She kept her gaze on the king’s. “The Machine for the Test. It will do you far more good than I would—it will be able to show you the actual matches that would bring magic to Ellas.”
Gasps came from all around them—not just the interim High Council, but the crowd that had gathered.
“Your Majesty.” Was that Magnus? She still didn’t turn. “We have only the one Machine. If you give it to him—”
“What terms do you propose?” Stefanos’s voice cut through the babble, and she could tell from the gleam in his eyes that Phoenix had been right. This was what he wanted most, far more than a magical bride whose power might or might not overcome his anti-power.
“Your Majesty, you cannot—”
She held up a hand, silencing whoever else had been speaking.
“We have been ruled by Test results for long enough, friends. Who among us has not had a family cobbled together and then torn apart because of it? Because we prioritized magic and yet refused to forge the true bonds that would create it?” Now, finally, she looked away from Stefanos, toward her High Council.
Toward her people. To the Blessed, the Aflame, the princess from Daryatla.
“We do not need a Test to tell us who our spouses should be. When we overcome our biases and seek unity, magic will follow—as it has for Daryatla, for Soltierra, for the Sunken Kingdom. Restrictions will be lifted. Each person will be given the free choice to marry whomever they please, thane or Fjorder, Blessed or Aflame. We are all equal.”
As she watched, the implications settled across the different faces. Some looked mystified. A few in the crowd, horrified. But surprisingly, it was the Blessed who stood beside the Aflame who reacted the most.
Laila swiped tears from her cheeks—and curtsied low. “To Queen Valkyrja and the freedom she brings! So shall it be.”
Some of the crowd bowed or curtsied—others leapt and pumped fists in the air. “So shall it be!”
Kyrja reached toward Nik, and his fingers found hers as she looked to Stefanos again.
“My terms are simple. We will offer you the Machine, its equipment and research, as a substitute for me in the Accord you made with my father. If I have volunteers among my scientists, then they will go to Ellas with you to set it up and train your people—if not, then you may send your scientists here to train in how to run the Test. Is that satisfactory?”
Stefanos’s lips curved up the slightest bit. “Quite. The Machine is hereby accepted in place of you, Queen Valkyrja. For the same term? Twenty years?”
Did she really want it back, even then? She looked to Nik, but he gave a small shrug.
A glance to the others didn’t give her any clues either.
“What if we were to reevaluate in twenty years? Discuss which of our people need it most at the time? My prayer is that Fjordlandi will be flourishing without it and will not desire its return, but I would like to retain the possibility, if I prove wrong.”
“Wise of you. I agree. And we can adjourn to the palace to work out the details at our leisure. Perhaps after you’ve had time to refresh yourself?
” He arched a brow at her dress, which had definitely not fared well throughout the ordeal of the last few days.
But he sounded amused, not sneering. Though something in his eyes shifted when he looked to Nik.
“And perhaps you would like time to gather your things this time before we leave, Nik.”
“I beg your pardon?” Kyrja’s throat went tight, to match her chest.
Stefanos’s smile was nothing short of mocking this time.
“We have reached a satisfactory agreement for you, Your Majesty. But Nik and I had a separate agreement, did we not? In which, if I recall, you agreed to give my scientists access to you in return for your choice of rooms in my palace and the freedom to use your time otherwise how you wish. You did not specify him in the agreement we just made.”
Her fingers went tight around Nik’s, her throat going tight.
How had she—why had no one corrected her?
But he was right, she’d only said it was in exchange for her.
What had the exact wording been in the agreement with Nik?
She couldn’t recall, just knew he’d agreed too fast to whatever Stefanos had offered, because at the time, it had meant being with her.
Much like Stefanos had just agreed so quickly before she could evaluate her own faulty language.
“You can’t mean to separate them.” Elianne, of course, pushed forward, looking refreshed after her journey through the lava flow. “Take me. I surely proved myself today by overpowering Isidor. I’m at least worth studying, aren’t I?”
“No.” Daemon stepped forward too, but this time he didn’t sound angry like he had before when she’d suggested it.
Certainly didn’t look like he was about to open up a vent and suck her down into the lava beneath their feet.
He looked perfectly calm. And something more, something she’d never seen in him before.
He looked…at peace “You should be here, Elianne. With Nik and Kyrja.”