Nightblood

by Elly Blake

  I wished I could reach up and, with a wave of my hand, erase the fear I saw lurking in his eyes. So little scared him. It didn’t seem right that I was the cause of his worst fears.

  “Not all the time,” I said with a little palm-open gesture. “Sometimes I’m as cautious as a baby rabbit.”

  “Really.” He raised a brow. “Like when you set someone on fire?”

  “Only people who choke me. And it was technically her hat. An ugly one. That hat needed burning.”

  His lips twitched. “It was a particularly grotesque hat, I’ll give you that much.”

  “I am sorry I lost my temper, and right when we had the council ready to vote in our favor. That was poor timing.”

  After a pause, he admitted, “As they did vote in our favor, I’m not upset about her hat or your temper.”

  “They did?” Relief whisked through me. “That’s wonderful news.”

  He shook his head impatiently. “The fact remains, you need to be more careful with the Minax.”

  I nodded. “You mean that I could hurt someone if I lose control.”

  “No!” Suddenly, he was shouting again. “You could hurt yourself!”

  My hands twisted in my lap. “The Minax was still alert and active from the arena. I should have realized that,” I admitted. “I should have been more careful. But when Lady Blanding burst in hurling accusations, I couldn’t help but react.”

  He raked a hand into his hair, then both hands. “I know that! Dammit, I know you were provoked. But the thought of that thing taking you over…”

  I reached up and batted his hands away, smoothing the ruffled strands. “Don’t pull out your hair. I like your hair.”

  He flopped on the bench again, his tone frustrated but with shades of affection. “What am I going to do with you?”

  I let out a relieved breath. We were past the worst of his anger. And he hadn’t asked me too many questions about the Minax.

  “I have suggestions, but you always say no.” I looked up at him from under my lashes.

  After a beat, he laughed, then scowled. “I’m not ready to forgive you.”

  “Of course not. Frostblood forgiveness is like wine. It takes years to fully mature.”

  “That isn’t even… How is that…” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was wearing a crooked smile. “You are truly ridiculous sometimes.”

  “I try.” Was it too soon to kiss him? When he smiled like that, I could think of little else.

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “I said sorry! Weren’t you listening?”

  “You said sorry for everything except the arena.”

  Back to this again! I puffed out a breath. “If I hadn’t done the demonstration, how do you think that council meeting would have gone?”

  His voice rose. “There would have been no council meeting!”

  “Right! No meeting, and no vote, and no confession. We’d still be trying to figure out a way to prove the existence of the Minax!”

  He scowled down at his boots and then swore. And I knew I had won this match.

  “Don’t lie to me again,” he said finally, one hand coming up to cradle my cheek, but this time his thumb pressed firm against my chin, as if he were trying to press his words in with it. “Can you at least promise me that much?”

  I hesitated, struggling for words that would satisfy him but didn’t contain either lies or promises. “I hated lying to you. I never want to lie to you again.”

  Tension eased from his shoulders. I breathed a little sigh of relief that he’d accepted that.

  His gaze dropped, and his thumb moved to drag across my lower lip, leaving a trail of tingling cold. “You know, sometimes my jealousy over Kai isn’t just about him wanting you. I envy the bond you share, the innate understanding of each other as Firebloods.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You make plans that I’m excluded from. I don’t like that he was there when I wasn’t. I know that he’ll go out of his way to protect you, but”—his voice deepened—“I would give my life for you.”

  I swallowed twice. Don’t cry, don’t cry.

  “If you want in on our plans, you have to stop being so overprotective. Just because it involves risk doesn’t make it foolish. You can’t just stand in judgment, saying no.…” The image of him glowering from the balcony rose up in my memory. My brow furrowed. “Wait. Why were you even there?”

  He stroked my lip again, nearly distracting me from my question. “You’ve lost me.”

  “In the arena,” I said, fighting the urge to press my lips into his palm and forget this whole conversation. “In your balcony. You said you didn’t suspect what I had planned, so why were you there?”

  His hand froze. “I can go there whenever I please,” he said defensively. “It’s my balcony, Ruby. It’s my blasted kingdom.”

  “You came back to check on me, didn’t you?” So much for supposedly trusting me.

  His eyes shifted. “I came back… no. Not to check on you.”

  I crossed my arms. “Then why?”

  His hand dropped to his lap as he blew out a breath. “Fine. Since you won’t leave it alone, I’ll tell you. But it’ll just make you feel guiltier for deceiving me.”

  “Hmph. Go on.”

  “I came back because I wanted to share your moment of triumph. I couldn’t resist watching from the shadows as you told them who you are. I couldn’t wait to see my courtiers bow to you. All right? Happy now that you have my full confession? I wanted to feel quietly proud that my future—” He broke off and cleared his throat. “That you had risen so far from where you started.”

  Though his confession moved me deeply, I fixated on one point. “Your future what?”

  “Hmm?” he asked, his eyes heavy-lidded, almost bored. But that vein was pulsing in his jaw again.

  “How did you mean to finish that sentence?”

  “My future nemesis,” he said, emphasizing the word with deadpan gravity.

  I burst out laughing. “That is not what you were going to say.”

  “But it’s accurate.” His eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t hide the beginning of a smile. “I’m almost positive you’ll bring about my downfall.”

  I couldn’t stop laughing. “Now who’s being ridiculous?”

  “If you don’t stop, I’m going to kiss it out of you.”

  I leaned forward, eyes challenging, still grinning. “Do it. Make me pay.”

  “You think I won’t?” He reached out and pulled me closer, hemming me between his powerful arms and his hard chest, just where I liked to be. “I have a punishment in mind.”

  I snuggled in. “The lash?”

  “Far worse.” He pushed back far enough to touch his lips to mine lightly, then drew away.

  Instantly beguiled by the feel of his lips, I put my hand behind his head. “More.”

  His voice was deep and soft and far too smug. “Now, see? That’s the torture part. It’s not up to you.” After another abrupt kiss, he drew away.

  I growled and put my other hand up, trying to tug him toward me. It was like pulling on a boulder. “Come here, you stubborn iceberg.”

  “Oh, an insult. You deserve another punishment for that.” This time, he lingered before drawing away.

  “I don’t think you have as much self-control as you think you do.”

  “How dare you?” he murmured, still staring at my mouth. “A Frostblood is always restrained.”

  “All right, then.” I hopped to my feet, full of sunny mischief, knowing what would break down his resistance. “If I can’t tempt you, I’ll have to try my wiles on someone else.”

  He snagged my waist, pulling me with a jolt into his lap. “Your wiles are mine.”

  This time, his lips did not hesitate. His tongue was cold and tasted of mint, but his mouth soon warmed. We struggled closer. His thumb rested just under my jaw, meeting my wild pulse with soft strokes, his other palm resting on my hip. My fingers kneaded his shoulders and the nape of
his neck. Our breathing was shallow by the time we came up for air.

  Pushing strands of hair from my cheek, he said, “I can’t seem to stay angry at you.” He stared at me for a second, then shook his head. “What have you done to me?”

  “Not enough.”

  He laughed.

  Pulse hammering, I touched where his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Do you need to yell some more? It’s not good to hold it in.”

  His forehead dropped to rest against mine. “I’m tired of shouting.”

  He stared into my eyes, and I was lost in ice, but it was the kind I liked. The kind I would never try to break or harm, though I did enjoy when it melted for me.

  “Good.” I gave him one more warm kiss. “I’m glad you used it all up.”

  “So am I.”

  SIXTEEN

  AN HOUR AFTER DAWN, BROTHER Thistle, Arcus, Kai, and I stood in the arena. The sky was unusually clear, a vivid disc of robin’s-egg blue. The tiers of seating were empty, but a few members of Arcus’s council occupied balconies, their colorful clothing standing out against the ice.

  “Are you ready to make frostfire?” I asked, barely able to contain my nervous anticipation for the next phase of our plan. The results of this test would determine whether we had a weapon, however imperfect, against the Minax.

  Brother Thistle nodded. Kai made a “get on with it” gesture. Arcus said nothing, as he and I were merely spectators.

  According to Cirrus, frostfire had the effect of slowing and weakening the Minax. Arcus and I had made frostfire together more than once, but Brother Thistle believed it was our royal blood that gave us that ability. A handful of royals making frostfire wouldn’t be much defense against thousands of Minax if they broke free. We needed to be sure that others could make it, too. Soon we would know for sure. We planned to leave the capital in the next day or two, so this was one of our final and most important bits of preparation before we set off in search of the Gate.

  Kai faced Brother Thistle in the center. Arcus and I stood together a safe distance away. When I gave the word, they brought their streams of fire and frost together. Ribbons of orange painted their faces, reflected from the flames. A crackling sound echoed over the icy walls.

  Arcus and I waited anxiously for the fire and frost to merge into one color, the telltale mark of frostfire.

  “More,” I urged them.

  Kai’s arms twitched, and he sent out more flame. Brother Thistle poured out more frost.

  The two streams remained obstinately separate.

  Arcus stared with a fierce expression, as if he could will them to combine.

  I spoke softly. “Kai is a Fireblood prince. Brother Thistle is descended from Frostblood nobles. They’re as close to royalty as we’re likely to get. If this doesn’t work for them, it won’t work for anyone.”

  Arcus gave a single nod but didn’t break his stare. “Direct it at something,” he suggested. “The platform.”

  The wooden platform intended for the Manus executions was still standing. Kai and Brother Thistle moved closer, then turned their flame and frost toward the thick planking, but the ice doused the fire too fast to let it burn.

  “Kai, bring the heat up just a bit,” I called out. Brother Thistle had a powerful gift. Maybe the two forces had to be equally matched.

  He nodded and his flame burned brighter, sweat beginning to dot his forehead. Come on, come on, I thought. A second later, the red and blue streams intertwined. The separate colors together grew brighter, then pulsed with a pale light.

  I watched the bright shape grow into a rotating torque of blue-white flame. Pressure built behind my rib cage. Discomfort turned to pain. The Minax stirred testily inside me.

  Leave! Danger! Flee! it hissed in my mind.

  My legs tensed, muscles bunching with a nearly overwhelming urge to run, escape. I took slow breaths, battling the impulse, wincing at the pain as I engaged the creature in a silent contest of wills. I hated the parasite that drew power from my blood, hated my emotions for feeding it, hated this situation.

  “Ruby?” Arcus turned to me, concerned.

  I didn’t want him to see how badly I was affected, how little control I had. I stared hard at the platform, as if so rapt I was unable to look at him. I didn’t know what he might be able to read in my eyes.

  “It’s close, isn’t it?” I asked, a touch breathless.

  He nodded. “It’s not exactly frostfire. But I hope it’s close enough.”

  His gaze stayed on me. I wished he’d look away. I didn’t want him staring, worrying, assessing, judging. I felt my nostrils flare, my temper budding into heat for no good reason except that I would rather hide my weakness, and he was watching me too closely. He was too perceptive, too in tune with me.

  I didn’t like it. Wait.

  The Minax didn’t like it.

  My agitation increased when I realized I couldn’t, at this moment, tell which statement was true. Which thought was mine.

  Then Brother Thistle took a step back, weaving unsteadily. As powerful as the monk was, he was flagging.

  “You can stop now!” Arcus called out, his attention pulled away. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  The fire and frost separated into two strands and petered out. Brother Thistle and Kai dropped their arms. Kai shoved a lock of hair from his forehead and grinned at us, glowing with the thrill of success. Brother Thistle leaned heavily on his cane, panting. Arcus moved forward to help him, only to be waved away.

  “I am fine, son,” Brother Thistle said. “Offer your assistance to this puny young Fireblood. He is about to faint from his exertions.”

  Instead of snapping back as I expected, Kai chuckled. “You’re right, old man. I could barely keep up.”

  Now that the show was over, the council members rose and left their balconies, filing out as quietly as they had watched. Arcus, Kai, and Brother Thistle began discussing the test—analyzing the point at which the two elements combined, making plans to train Frostbloods and Firebloods, and sharing theories on how to improve the process. Normally, I would have joined in and shared my own ideas, but I held back, crossing my arms to hide my tremors, my chest tight. Turning away so they couldn’t see, I dug the heel of my palm into my breastbone to ease the ache.

  The Minax was passive now, but I could still feel its awareness. Listening. Always listening. Waiting for that next dark feeling, that gleam of sadness it could nurture into despair, the spark of resentment it could kindle into violent fury.

  With the Minax, I was never truly alone. And never truly myself.

  If only I could expel the thing, reach into my heart and rip it out, burn it, stomp it underfoot, sever its body with a sword. Anything! But my fire was useless against this enemy. The sense of powerlessness made me want to scream.

  “I’ll get rid of you,” I whispered, hitting my fist once, hard, against the middle of my chest. “Someday soon, I’ll destroy you,” I vowed.

  The Minax lapped up my hate and preened.

  “What’s wrong?” Kai asked as he caught sight of me. Alarmed, he strode forward. “What is it, little bird?” His hand came to my back, rubbing gently.

  “Take your hands off her,” Arcus said between gritted teeth, moving to intercept.

  “Something is wrong!” Kai shouted, sending him a fulminating glare as he held on to me. “Can’t you tell?”

  “I—” Arcus stopped, suddenly defensive as he registered my distress. “It’s not for you to comfort her.”

  Kai wheeled on him. “Isn’t it? That’s what I’ve been doing for a long while now.”

  “I’m right here,” I said, still struggling to subdue the Minax. But they were too busy glaring at each other to notice.

  “Are you implying I haven’t been?” Arcus’s brows lowered dangerously.

  Kai’s eyes hardened. “That’s right. You have not. I was there when she risked her life taking the Fireblood trials. I was there when she was delirious with fever. I was there when she wandered my
ship at night, possessed by a creature bent on destroying her. Did you know she almost threw herself overboard during one of her nightmares?”

  Arcus turned to me with a look of horror. “You—”

  Kai’s voice rose to a shout, heat flowing from him. “And I will be there for her when she has to face a hateful deity who wants to kill us all! Where will you be? Wooing your court? Conferring with advisors? Subduing uprisings?”

  “Stop,” I tried to yell, but it came out as a whisper. The Minax was growing in power, devouring the energy of the argument, exuberant at this turn of events.

  “I will not apologize for having responsibilities!” Arcus shouted back, his hands balled into fists.

  Kai’s arm tightened around me. “I have them, too, but I put Ruby first. She deserves that much!”

  Arcus looked murderous, but I saw guilt there, too. Kai’s accusations had hit home.

  “What has gotten into you, Kai?” I asked softly, more bewildered than angry. “He’s been there for me in every way he could be, from even before I met you.”

  Kai bent a frustrated look at me. “But since you met me, who has been the more reliable one? Your supposedly steadfast Frostblood king, or the temperamental prince who vowed to marry you?” His golden-brown gaze burned into mine. “You see me as flighty and irresponsible—you’ve implied as much. And yet I’ve been the one at your side whenever you needed me.” He shook his head. “You never gave me the opportunity to show that I can be steadfast, too.”

  Arcus’s hands twitched with leashed violence. I could hear his breathing, too rapid, as his frigid gaze shifted between Kai and me.

  My mouth opened, but no words came out. Why was he saying all this? Why now? I’d thought everything was resolved between us. He couldn’t still think of me that way, after I’d made it clear what I wanted. Who I wanted.

  “You and I are friends,” I said, willing him to agree.

  “Yes, but did you ever consider that I could have been much more?” He never took his eyes from me. “That I still could be?”

  “Enough, princeling,” Arcus warned with an edge of violence.

  Kai ignored him. My heartbeat stuttered as he slid his hand to my cheek. “Ruby?”