“It’s my observatory,” he pointed out.
I cleared my throat, opting to be blunt. He had shown me in small ways that he wanted to gain my trust. I hoped I wasn’t wrong about him. “When you followed me to the school that night, you told me to come see you when I realized my time had run out. I’m out of time.”
“You were looking at my bookshelf rather hopefully,” he remarked.
“There’s a book I need. And I have a theory you might have it.” I wasn’t ready to tell him I needed a map of the tunnels. Telling him about the book would be a safer way to gauge whether he was willing to help me.
He didn’t even ask which book. He just pointed. “Bottom shelf, far right, behind the volume on ocean currents of the Vast Sea.”
I hadn’t expected him to tell me so easily. Hiding my surprise, I bent and found the book.
The Creation of the Thrones stood out in gold letters on the black leather cover. I touched the spine with reverence, lifting the book gingerly and placing it on the table. Elation and relief made my hands tremble.
“You had it this whole time,” I breathed, opening to the first page.
“For a while, anyway. Long enough to translate the old tongue and understand most of its contents. The masters have the knowledge, but they do nothing with it.” He paused, as if deciding whether or not to go on. “They don’t care if my wife is taken over by a curse. They only care about the power the throne gives her.”
“So the throne is on Sere!” Triumph surged through me. In my dream, the throne had been in an underground cavern. Once again I wondered if Sage was sending me visions. “Does the queen know?”
“No. She believes it was destroyed in the last eruption. Only the masters—and I—know the truth. Shortly after Rota disappeared, their father, King Tollak, died and there was an uprising on some of the islands. The masters saw that series of tragedies as a sign that the curse was awakening in the throne. The curse has periods of dormancy and activity, according to the book. At any rate, when a volcanic eruption occurred within months of Nalani being crowned, the masters saw an opportunity to hide the throne, to claim it had been destroyed. In truth, the castle was destroyed, but the throne remained. As there seemed no way of destroying it, the best they could do was hide the throne, hoping the distance would protect the queen.”
“Is that all in the book? Or did the masters tell you?”
He shook his head. “The book is ancient, and the masters are an outrageously secretive lot. No, I confess I found out by accident. Years ago, while using the tunnels between the observatory and the castle, I sometimes noticed a master or two passing by. One day, I followed. I saw the cavern where they keep the throne and the guard who is always posted.”
“You’re convinced the curse is affecting the queen?”
“I am. I noticed changes in Nalani when King Rasmus took the throne in Tempesia. Her understandable grief and anger at his massacring Firebloods could have accounted for the changes, but I began to grow nervous. I started actively trying to find out more. Finally, I stole the book.”
“Are her veins black? That’s a sure sign of possession.”
He came forward, close to the other side of the table, and gestured to the book. “A black vein is a sign of full possession by the Minax, but the creature exercises a lesser influence on people outside its immediate vicinity. Even with the throne hidden at a distance from the castle, the curse affects the queen, although the changes in behavior are less obvious. At first, I didn’t want to see the signs, but when she had Frostbloods executed—” He broke off. His expression darkened. “That is not the woman I married.”
“And now she’s planning a war she can’t win. That’s exactly the kind of thing the Minax craves. Death and chaos and all the lovely grief that follows.” All this time the Minax had been right under my nose.
“May I show you something?” Eiko reached forward and flipped through the book, pointing when he found the page he sought. “There.”
An illustration showed two indistinct figures, one throwing fire and one throwing ice, the two streams meeting in the center to form a blue-white flame directed at a dark, orange-veined throne.
“A Fireblood and a Frostblood creating frostfire. Destroying the throne of Sud.”
He turned to the next page. The throne was gone. In its place was an oval outlined in black, a malevolent pair of eyes staring out of it. Even the illustration was enough to make the back of my neck prickle.
“The Minax,” he said calmly. “Trapped in a remaining shard of the throne. I’ve translated the ancient Sudesian and the instructions are quite specific: The shard must be at least as large as an ancient Sudesian coin.” He opened a small wooden box and produced a gold coin, which was not much larger than modern Tempesian ones. “A smaller stone would risk its escape.”
“But how could anyone know this?”
“Well, Pernillius devoted his life to recording the prophecies of Dru. She was—”
“A prophetess, I know. I understand enough. We need to destroy the throne with frostfire but keep the Minax trapped in a shard of the throne. And then what? A friend of mine in Tempesia found something that indicates a Minax can destroy another. Could I use the shard to kill the other Minax?”
“Only one who can master or control the Minax can use one against the other. What was the phrasing in the book?” He flipped a few pages and translated. “‘Only shadow can create shadow. Only shadow can move shadow. Only shadow can destroy shadow.’ It seems we cannot destroy the ‘shadow’ in the throne without the other one. The best option is to trap the Minax in the shard and remove it from the island completely.”
“And who is going to do that?”
“You, I hope. On the ship of your friend the king, if he is willing?”
I nodded. Arcus would surely agree once he knew that removing the curse from the queen’s island might be our best chance to prevent a war. If the queen was free of the Minax, she might change her position on Frostbloods. And I needed to take the shard back to Tempesia to destroy the frost Minax.
“We’ll need to get him back to his ship once the throne is destroyed,” I said. “I hear you know the tunnels well?”
“As well as the masters themselves.”
Some question lingered at the back of my mind. I turned the page to the illumination of frostfire destroying the throne, then stared, narrow-eyed, at Prince Eiko. “What a happy coincidence that the two people you needed to make frostfire ended up in Sudesia.”
“Not such a coincidence,” he admitted hesitantly. “I suspected you had royal blood after hearing that you melted the throne of Fors. You see, Pernillius believed only the gifts of two people of royal blood can make frostfire. When Nalani sent Prince Kai to recruit you, I suggested to him that if it turned out your situation in the Frost Court was unsafe, he should bring you here and I would smooth things over with the queen.”
“Lucky for you that I was in danger, then.”
“It wasn’t luck so much as probability. It was likely that you would be in danger. The Frost Court isn’t known for its acceptance of Firebloods. To put it mildly.”
“What about Arcus? The mysterious letter implying I was in danger?”
“I sent the letter to lure him here, instructing Kai to have it delivered before he left port and only if he was bringing you to Sudesia. He had no idea of the letter’s contents, so do not blame him. I gambled that you were the princess and, if so, I needed the king to come here so you could destroy the throne together. There was certainly no way Nalani would see past the Minax’s influence. She’d never agree to combine her fire with your king’s frost.”