by Amy Raby
Worryn. Celeste studied him warily. This man was a criminal. He had paid Bayard’s enclave to assassinate Prince Rayn.
“Thank you for allowing us to anchor our ship,” said Vitala.
“I’m sorry for the confusion earlier. The situation is an awkward one,” said Worryn. “I’m sure you noticed we’re experiencing an emergency. Mount Drav has erupted, and while hosting you would be a great honor for our country, Tiasa is unsafe for visitors at this time. My conscience demands that I send you back to your ship.”
“We accept the risk of the volcano,” said Vitala. “Don’t your Fireturners direct the lava away from the city?”
“Leadership is wanting among the Fireturners,” said Worryn. “I cannot be certain they will succeed.”
Celeste suppressed an eye roll. If Worryn truly feared that the lava flow would reach Tiasa, she guessed he’d be the first to leave town. But he wasn’t evacuating, and neither were the others. The townsfolk were going about their business, apparently with total confidence that the Fireturners would keep them safe.
“Our business here is urgent,” said Vitala. “I’m sure the Fireturners have the situation under control.”
Worryn tilted his head. “What is the nature of your business?”
Vitala glanced at Celeste, who spoke up. “When Prince Rayn visited Kjall, we were in the middle of some negotiations regarding a trade agreement between our countries. He had to return home unexpectedly, leaving our talks incomplete. We are here to continue them.”
“How interesting.” The expression on Worryn’s face didn’t change, and Celeste couldn’t tell if he was indifferent or openly hostile toward this proposal.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Lornis broke in smoothly, “our imperial visitors are weary from their journey.”
Worryn remained unreadable. He bowed to Vitala and Celeste. “When you are recovered from your travels, we’ll discuss this further.”
Celeste hoped he didn’t make good on that threat. She wanted nothing to do with the man.
Lornis led them to a spiral staircase, and they began to ascend.
“I’ve placed you in the Hibiscus Tower,” he said. “It’s not where visitors of your stature would normally be housed—typically you’d be in that hallway on the left.” He pointed. “But Rayn and I are in the tower right now, and given the unstable political situation we’re in, I think it’s safest for you to be near us.”
“I agree,” said Vitala.
So did Celeste. She wanted to be close to Rayn, not to that treacherous snake. They ascended another flight and walked down a pillared hallway with open archways along the sides. The hallway opened up into a balcony. Before her was one of the suspension bridges she’d seen earlier. From the ground, the bridge had looked appealing, a little arc in the shape of a smile. She had not anticipated what it would look like from up here. The bridge curved steeply downward. It had handrails, but no supports at all to keep it upright.
She halted uncertainly at the edge. “Is this safe?”
Lornis walked out onto the bridge. “Absolutely safe, Your Imperial Highness.”
She followed with a couple of tentative steps. The bridge wasn’t stable; it shifted and jounced beneath her feet. Lornis didn’t seem to mind. He strode forward with no concern for the bridge’s movement. She decided she was being silly to worry about this, and trotted across the wooden slats to catch up to him.
Her room in the Hibiscus Tower was lovely, though a little stuffy and woefully insecure compared with her rooms in the Imperial Palace. Her bedroom opened through a double archway onto a balcony overlooking a garden. The Inyans seemed not to use window glass; their windows were artfully shaped openings exposing them directly to the weather, and potentially to enemies. She was several stories up and saw no trees offering access to her balcony—that was a relief. Nor did the ivy climb this high.
Vitala joined Celeste on the balcony and frowned. “We’re going to have to put Legaciatti up here.”
“We have guards patrolling the grounds,” offered Lornis.
“Not enough for imperial security,” said Vitala.
Lornis nodded. “Do as you deem necessary. Inya is a smaller country and not as security-minded as Kjall.”
It wasn’t just that Inya was smaller, Celeste thought. It was different in character. These rooms would never have been built in such an open way if political assassinations and coups were common here. While she accepted the need for placing Legaciatti to make up for the room’s defensive shortcomings, she envied Inya for not needing such precautions, at least most of the time.
And yet political scheming was not unknown here.
“We’ve learned some important things we need to share with you,” she told Lornis.
The Legaciatti took up positions around the room, ensuring that they would have privacy, and Celeste and Vitala told Lornis what they’d learned from Bayard: that Councilor Worryn had arranged for the assassination attempts, that Zoe was no Inyan woman at all but a Riorcan assassin sent to Inya first to produce an illegitimate heir, then to remove Rayn from the line of succession.
Lornis looked grave as he took in these facts, but he did not seem surprised. “Councilor Worryn is a known enemy,” he said, “but Rayn needs to be warned about Zoe. She recently abandoned the palace.”
“She’s gone?”
“Just up and left, yes,” said Lornis.
“That might be good, or it might be bad,” said Celeste. “Take me up on the mountain, and I’ll tell Rayn what I know. He may be in danger.”
Lornis nodded. “I’ll contact the base camp and see what I can do.”
26
Celeste had never felt as small as when she looked upon the lava flow on Mount Drav. When she’d seen the mountain from a distance and observed the glowing red line of lava, she’d imagined something akin to a river. Now that she was up on the mountain, viewing the flow from up close, she realized that she’d vastly underestimated its size. It was nothing like a river. It was a slow-moving beast of colossal size, well over ten feet tall and wider than she could see from her vantage point. Everything it touched, it devoured utterly. Trees in its pathway burst into flame; bushes vanished in puffs of steam.
Her horse, borrowed from the Inyan stables, shifted uneasily on the mountain trail and tossed its head. Its muscles tensed beneath her, and she could tell the animal wanted nothing more than to turn around and head back to the lowlands.
For all its power, the lava flow was eerily quiet. Flames crackled and spat when it set the vegetation afire, but the lava itself was silent, inevitable death. Mostly all she heard were the shouts of the Fireturners.
Rayn’s voice rose above the others, sharp and crisp as he gave orders. The other men—and some women, she realized—responded with equal brusqueness, putting her in mind of a military operation.
How could they stand being so close to the lava? She was a hundred yards away at least, on a rocky trail overlooking the scene. Even at that distance, heat spilled off the lava in an asphyxiating wall. Much closer, and the air would be stifling. She understood now how important the fire mages’ magic was—without their ability to heat or cool the air around them, they wouldn’t be able to do this work at all.
“How do they turn the lava in the desired direction?” she asked Magister Lornis, who sat beside her on his horse. Vitala was also present, staring at the spectacle.
“They cool it at the edges,” said Lornis. “When lava is cooled, it hardens into rock. Do you see how they’re building a wall along that ridge?”
Indeed they were. It was hard to tell, since most of the Fireturners were clustered about that area, blocking her view. But she saw that a wall of cooled lava was in fact taking shape.
Sometimes the Fireturners walked directly over the lava. There was a man up on the flow now, gesturing at the people on the ground. When he spoke, Celeste re
alized that man was Rayn.
Rayn lifted his head and spotted Celeste. For a moment he stood completely still. Then he spoke to his people again—words Celeste couldn’t make out from this distance—and hopped from the lava to a rocky ledge, then from the ledge to the ground.
He jogged toward her.
Celeste dismounted from her horse and ran to him, heedless of the wall of sweltering air that engulfed her.
He held up his arms. “I’m filthy, covered with ash—”
Celeste flung her arms around him. Yes, he smelled of brimstone and fire, but he was her Rayn, and it was nothing a good bath wouldn’t take care of.
“You came for me,” he murmured into her ear, hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. A wave of wintry air surrounded her, countering the heat of the lava. Rayn’s magic was at work again, this time cooling her instead of warming her.
Suddenly she remembered that she was uncertain of her welcome—that Rayn had left Riorca abruptly with no word of where the two of them stood. “Why did you not come to see me before you left Riorca?”
“I tried.” He pulled back just enough to stroke her face. “Did you not receive my letter?”
“What letter?”
Rayn’s brows lowered. “Lucien’s men intercepted me when I tried to come from the Water Spirit to speak to you. They forced me to return to my ship, but I gave them a letter that they were to deliver to you.”
Gods, a letter? It would have made all the difference in the world. “I never received it.”
He frowned. “I think somebody must have decided they didn’t want you to have it. Never mind—you’re here. That’s all that matters.” He glanced back at the lava flow. “What do you think of Inya so far? This is, I suppose, a rather rude introduction.”
“It’s beautiful and fascinating.” She studied him, noting the weary cast to his face. He must be exhausted. “How long have you been up here fighting the lava?”
Rayn shrugged. “I lose track of time on the mountain. Two days? Maybe three?”
“Do you sleep in shifts?”
“Yes, at the base camp. As little as we can get away with and keep our magic strong. It takes many of us, working together, to cool the lava enough to build the walls that will contain it. This is no trivial bit of magic.”
“How in the world do you walk on top of the lava?”
Rayn glanced back at the massive flow. “Fire magic isn’t just about warming things. We can also draw the heat out of things—cool them down. I just cool the surface of the lava where my feet step, enough that it hardens a little and becomes walkable. I have to keep moving when I’m doing it, because the hardened bits of lava tend to sink.”
“What about the other lava flows? When I was in Tiasa, looking up at the mountain, I saw quite a few of them—smaller ones, I mean.”
“This is the only one that matters,” said Rayn. “The others won’t even make it off the mountain.”
“They’ll dry up on their own?”
“Yes, they’ll cool and harden into rock, right here on the mountainside. My people are monitoring a couple of the larger ones, but I don’t think we’ll have to do anything about them.”
“So this big one—it’s not going to stay on the mountain like the others?”
He shook his head. “This one we have to send into Four Pines. The good news is that Mount Drav tends to erupt in a similar way every time, and we’ve directed many flows to Four Pines over the centuries. We know the critical places where our walls have to be built up to divert the flow, and in most cases those walls are already in place. We just have to shore them up and make sure the lava doesn’t overrun them.”
One of the Fireturners shouted Rayn’s name. Rayn turned, looking torn.
“I won’t keep you. This is important work,” she said.
“When I’m done here, I’d like to talk to you,” said Rayn. “At length.”
“Absolutely,” said Celeste. “Let me tell you one thing, though. Zoe is a Riorcan assassin.”
Rayn’s mouth twisted. “I thought she might be. She’s disappeared of late. I was going to send someone to look for her—”
“I’d be very careful if you did that. She may have joined her fellows. She’s got two other assassins with her, here on Inya.”
“Soldier’s Hell,” he said. “I’ll tell you what little I know when the eruption is over, and you can fill in the blanks for me.”
“If you see her, keep your distance. She’s got Shards. Like the empress.”
His brows rose.
“Also . . .” Perhaps now was not the best time to tell him that Zoe was a wardbreaker. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”
Rayn nodded to Vitala, who was still on her horse. “Your Imperial Majesty.”
“Your Highness,” answered Vitala. “This is quite a spectacle. I’ve never seen the like.”
“It’s a dangerous spectacle for those without fire magic,” said Rayn. “Do keep well back—I wouldn’t want harm to come to you or your sister-in-law.”
“Nothing would induce me to go any nearer,” said Vitala.
Rayn turned to Celeste. “Kiss for luck?”
She’d been hoping for such an invitation. She threw her arms around his neck, heedless of the ash that smudged his face. He tasted of fire, and his skin was hot against hers. Muscles flexed as he wrapped her in his arms, and she felt his strength—the strength of a man who could tame a mountain.
As their lips parted, he stroked her cheek with a gentleness that belied the power of his body. “I wish I could stay,” he murmured.
She shook her head. “Go. We’ll settle everything later.”
• • •
When it was over, and the lava flow had been safely directed into Four Pines, Rayn washed the mountain’s filth from his body and slept for sixteen hours straight. The fires would burn in Four Pines for a while, and needed to be managed so that they did not get out of control, but his cousin Tiannon had volunteered to organize the shifts for that work so that Rayn could prepare for his ratification vote. When Rayn awoke the next morning, he could think of nothing but Celeste. He dressed with a great deal more care than usual and went in search of the Kjallan princess.
He found her at breakfast with Empress Vitala and Magister Lornis. Though his heart beat a tremor against his rib cage just at seeing her, he was frustrated that she had company. He wanted to speak to her alone.
Celeste’s eyes lit up when she saw him. “Rayn!”
“Princess.” He inclined his head in formal greeting, yet couldn’t stop himself from pasting a huge, sloppy grin on his face. Lornis would scold him for the diplomatic impropriety. He took a seat at the table. A servant delivered his coffee, which he sipped gratefully. “Are you enjoying your stay in Inya?”
“It’s a beautiful country,” said Celeste. “I love everything about it.”
The words warmed his heart. If she loved it, maybe she’d be willing to stay. He took a seat, and a servant placed his favorite breakfast in front of him, seasoned rice topped with a fried egg and surrounded with crisp vegetables. “Has Lornis shown you around?”
“He offered,” said Celeste. “But I felt . . . Well, I was hoping you would do it.”
Rayn grinned again. She’d just handed him the perfect excuse for spending some time alone with her. “Princess, I would love to show you my favorite places around Tiasa.” Then he realized he could hardly exclude the empress of Kjall. “And the empress as well.”
Vitala gave him a sly smile. “Much as I’d like to spend the day touring, Lornis and I have business to attend to.”
Praise the gods—she was on his side.
“Rayn,” said Lornis, “I have plans for you. Now that the Kjallans are here, we need to visit the Merchants’ Guild again. Plus I’d like you to make some public appearances with Celeste. And you should talk
about the lava flow that went into Four Pines. Those farms are burning. You did the right thing, but we need to make sure the people of Tiasa don’t draw the wrong conclusions.”
Lornis was right about Four Pines; there was no doubt Councilor Worryn would try to paint his successful fire-turning in a negative light. But to make appearances with Celeste was premature. He hadn’t even established yet why she’d come all this way to visit him. “Tomorrow I’ll put myself at your disposal, Lornis. But today I’m spending time with Celeste.”
“Your ratification is in five days—” began Lornis.
“I know that,” said Rayn. “This is important.”
“Let them go,” Vitala urged Lornis. “Rayn’s been up on the mountain for days, and Celeste has eagerly awaited his return. They have much to discuss. Let them have a day to themselves.”
Lornis grudgingly agreed.
Rayn was glad of it, since nothing was going to stop him anyway.
27
Rayn presented her with a dozen interesting ideas for where they could go, but Celeste wanted to start with something simple: a visit to the beach. Ever since she’d seen that pale white sand near the Tiasan harbor, she’d been dying to feel it between her toes.
Rayn wanted to take her to a different beach, however: one he said was more private. Celeste decided to bring Patricus, who would enjoy a swim in the ocean.
Rayn frowned when Atella and a second Legaciattus trailed them to the stables. “Must we bring your guards?”
“Lucien would have my head if I went anywhere without them,” said Celeste.
“But it’s not Inyan custom,” said Rayn. “In fact, it carries a stigma here. How do you tell a good king from a bad king?”
“The bad king is surrounded by bodyguards—you told me. But I’m not Inyan. Your people must understand that Kjallans operate by a different set of rules.” She’d never been without bodyguards in her life, excepting those few days in the Riorcan wilds. And with a known group of assassins targeting Rayn, she wasn’t going anywhere without an escort. While she doubted anyone would attempt to harm her, Rayn was certainly in danger. By bringing along a Kjallan escort, ostensibly for herself, she could offer a measure of protection to Rayn that for Inyan cultural reasons he could not provide on his own.