“I am King Arelius Arkanus, son of Akur, ruler of Tempesia and the frost throne.” His chin rose infinitesimally and his voice, deep as oceans, so dear and familiar, was at the same time so cold and distant that shivers traced my skin.
The courtiers, who had been muttering nervously, were stricken into sudden silence, as if an axe blade had severed all threads of sound. The air had been sucked from the room, and now it resided in the bursting lungs of twenty or so nobles who collectively held their breath.
“If you were any other Frostblood,” the queen enunciated rigidly, “I would inquire what unfortunate mishap of fate had deposited you in the land of your enemies. But I must assume, as ruler of a land that has murdered my people”—her voice shook as she pounded her fist on the arm of the throne, then stood, rage suffusing her face, heat radiating from her whole body, until even members of the court gasped at the onslaught—“that you have come with some fatally misguided intention to harm myself or those close to me!”
“Harm you?” he said with angry confusion. “I came at your summons. I received a letter just after Ruby departed, demanding my presence here. It contained veiled threats that implied she would be in danger if I didn’t come immediately.”
“I sent no such letter!” she said impatiently.
“It bore your royal seal.”
“Impossible! Can you produce this message?” She gestured to his cloak.
“I don’t have it with me.”
“How convenient.”
“If harming you were my intention,” said Arcus with icy calm, “would I not send an assassin? Why would I risk myself?”
“Indeed, if you are foolish enough to come willingly into my domain, you may be foolish enough to risk anything. Let me assure you, you have made a grievous mistake.”
“I would agree, Queen Nalani, that I was a fool to come here,” Arcus said. A muscle jerked in his jaw. His refusal to look at me spoke volumes. If he was merely angry, he might have glared or curled his lip. Instead, he stared stonily forward with a cool, metallic disdain. His expression bore no hint of his feelings, aside from that tiny muscle in his jaw that he couldn’t control. He’d seen the announcement, the kiss—everything. I closed my eyes as a rush of regret surged from my throat to my stomach. He must be hurt and furious.
Then again, he knew me too well to think I would promise myself to someone else within weeks of parting from him. Even if his initial reaction had been shock, he would soon realize that I’d been maneuvered into this. He had to understand.
The courtiers seemed to realize that they needed, at some point, to breathe. The chatter started up again, quiet but fervent, until it sounded as if the throne room teemed with whispering mice.
“Get out, all of you!” the queen railed, waving a hand toward the door. The exiled court removed themselves in short order, the scrape of their feet sounding much like the scuttle of frightened rodents.
Only Kai and I remained. No one seemed to notice, anyway. Certainly not Queen Nalani or Arcus, who were locked in a battle of eye contact that neither was prepared to forfeit.
“How many?” the queen demanded.
Arcus waited. When no clarification followed, he asked, “How many what?”
“How many ships? How many ships and how many soldiers are en route to attack my kingdom?”
“None. None are on their way. I came on a single ship as you instructed. In your letter.”
She scoffed. “You insult me.” She stepped forward. “And I do not let insults go unanswered.”
She pulled back and slapped him across the face with the back of her hand, her rings slicing his cheek with thin ribbons that welled with blue blood.
“No,” I cried, rushing forward and falling to my knees next to him. His head had barely moved when the queen struck him, but now he reared back as if my very nearness lashed him with a burning whip. He kept his head and eyes forward, not acknowledging me at all.
“Arcus,” I breathed, and reached toward him. Could he really blame me for all this?
“Clearly there has been some… mistake,” he said. “I will leave by dawn, and as compensation for my unwanted presence, I will leave behind many treasures from my kingdom, which I’d intended as gifts. I hope that will be acceptable to you.”
“That will not be acceptable,” the queen replied scathingly. “You will tell me how many ships and how many soldiers are on their way to invade my kingdom. Your crew will be questioned. And one of them will die every day that you do not reveal this information to me.”
“There are no more ships,” Arcus said, less calm now that she’d threatened his crew. “There is no planned invasion, no act of aggression of any kind. I came here virtually alone, with only enough sailors to crew the ship.”
“Because of my letter, which I didn’t write, and you cannot produce.”
“Forget the letter,” Arcus said angrily. “Clearly your seal was used without your consent.” He turned his head to look at Kai with a narrowed, speculative expression.
Queen Nalani laughed bitterly. “My seal remains on my finger at all times.” She held up her hand to show a heavy gold ring. “And what tale will you feed me next? That you had an irresistible impulse to explore? Perhaps you indulge a hobby as a cartographer and wished to fill out your maps? By all means, tell me. What nonsense do you expect me to swallow?” She resumed her seat, tilting her head to one side in a mocking imitation of an interested listener.
“Perhaps we could speak privately—”
“The only private audience you will enjoy with me will be in your prison cell, where I will employ some ancient but very effective means of extracting information from your lying Frostblood lips. These are my close and trusted family members: my husband, my niece, and her husband-to-be.” I didn’t miss how Arcus’s eyes narrowed at the word niece and his nostrils flared at husband-to-be. “It does not get any more private than this.”
“Then I respectfully decline to answer any more questions until you’re willing to listen to reason.”
“There is nothing respectful about denying me,” she replied. The blood drained from my face as she continued. “Speak or die now. I may as well cut your invasion off at its quite literal head. I don’t believe there is a clear heir to your throne, is there? Your death will throw your court into chaos. I’d like nothing more than to watch the wolves tear each other to pieces without the leader of their pack.”
Arcus took a steadying breath. “My death could lead to the very thing you and I would both like to avoid.”
“And what is that?”
“War.”
“And who said I wished to avoid it?” Her voice and the expression in her eyes was so magnificent and terrible that I had to look away. “I relish the opportunity to avenge my fallen people. Bring war now or later. We are ready.”
Her demeanor was so fierce, I wondered again if the Minax could be present and I was unable to sense it.
“That is brave talk,” he replied, “but neither your navy nor your army is a match for my own. Not that it matters, as I have no wish to challenge you or your authority in your kingdom in any way. I merely wish to leave peacefully.”
“The only way you’ll leave here,” she said, leaning forward, “is on a funeral boat that has been sent out to sea. And I wouldn’t give any Frostblood that honor, least of all you.”
“You seem to hold me responsible for the death of Firebloods in Tempesia. You must know that none died by my hand or my order during my first rule or my current one. It was my brother, Rasmus, who gave orders for the butchery of Firebloods in Tempesia. I am not Rasmus.”
The queen made a show of glancing around. “Do you see him here? Shall I punish him instead?”
“My brother is dead,” Arcus stated.
“Indeed. And so, the burden of reparations falls to you.”
“Tell me what you need, then. What reparations will satisfy you?”
“Your death.”
His mouth firmed. “Be reasonable.”
“Your brother was not reasonable. Why is it required of me?”