I breathed a sigh of relief when we reached the south tower.
“Hurry,” Eiko whispered, finally showing signs of strain as we moved through the empty entrance hall to a servants’ door, which opened to a dark stairwell leading down. “There’s a hidden entrance to the tunnels down here.”
When we reached the musty lower level, he passed a few doors and opened one to a dusty storage room filled with empty barrels and empty baskets. The prince slid a shelf away from the wall. A hidden door lurked behind it.
He moved into the dim space and we followed. The torches were spaced far apart, with chunks of near darkness in between. Our footsteps echoed against the rock. As we went deeper in, the air thickened and heated. I listened with concern as Arcus’s breath grew labored.
More tunnels branched off at random intervals, but Eiko didn’t hesitate as he led us along. I tried to memorize the path, but after innumerable twists and turns, all the squiggly lines of my mental map blurred together.
Now that we were safe from listening ears, I told Arcus what I knew about the throne, how Prince Eiko was convinced it was influencing the queen, how the book said the throne could be melted with frostfire, how the Minax could be contained by a small shard.
“And if Brother Thistle is right,” I concluded, “then the shard containing the fire Minax could be the key to destroying the frost Minax.”
Eventually, the tunnel opened into a vast cavern. Black pillars stretched from floor to ceiling, disappearing as they exceeded the reach of light from wall-mounted torches. In the center of the room, a large, blocky object glinted with pulsing veins of orange.
The throne of Sud.
Its presence dominated the air, commanded the flow of blood in my veins. Its power beat against me like great black raven wings, soft and swift and irrefutable. When I’d encountered the frost throne, I’d felt a sense of awe mixed with repulsion. Now, the awe was there in full measure, but without the counterbalance of aversion. Instead, I trembled with the need to prostrate myself, to swear allegiance, to serve.
My knees turned to water. I locked them to keep from crumpling to the floor. Arcus stood close, his hand briefly touching my elbow in support, but I was too overcome to respond.
I exhaled, long and slow. A corresponding intake of breath came from the throne, as if the sacrifice of air from my lungs provided the first full, satisfying breath it had taken in an age. I knew from experience that no one could hear the Minax but me.
A whispering started, a silky caress. I have waited. I have waited. You are here. You are here.
The fire Minax tugged at something inside me, as if a thread connected a spot behind my rib cage to the consciousness in the throne. How I longed to rush forward and fling myself against it like an insect against a lit window. Yes, I’m here, I thought, then shook myself. I was aware of the Minax in the same way one is aware of a gentle rain pattering over the roof. The whispers rustled in my mind, persuading rather than demanding. A ceaseless backdrop of chatter.
You are here, you are here, come closer, come to me.
It took vigilant effort not to obey. I put my head against the bumpy rock wall and closed my eyes. I counted to one hundred in Sudesian—anything to keep my mind busy, to drown out the compulsion to move closer to the voice.
“We have very little time,” Prince Eiko reminded me sharply.
I struggled to regain focus. By now, the Fireblood masters would have realized I was late for the initiation ceremony. They might be searching. If they found us, not only would we lose our chance of destroying the throne, but Arcus would face recapture. If the queen had decided to execute him, I didn’t know if I could stop her.
We had to work fast and get him back to his ship. I might even be able to leave with him. If we could melt the throne. If the book was right that a shard would contain the Minax.
A shiver ripped through me as I finally realized the odds against us.
“Ruby, are you ready?” Arcus asked, leaning close. I nodded. We moved toward the throne in tandem.
I knew the exact moment the fire Minax noticed Arcus’s presence.
Frostblood! The bloodthirsty cry echoed in my mind. I clapped my hands over my ears.
Even Arcus seemed to sense it. He recoiled, the sudden jolt and catch of his muscles making him tremble slightly, as if he were an arrow shot into the ground.
I spoke softly, because the throne was on edge, its consciousness straining toward Arcus the way a dog tugs at the end of its leash when it sees a nice fat rabbit nearby. Everything in me wanted to soften the Minax’s craving, to appease it. With my voice, if not my actions.
Kill him, kill him, the throne chanted.
“Stop it,” I whispered to the throne. “You don’t need his death. You have the blood of all the Frostblood servants who made these tunnels.”
Not enough, never enough, the throne chanted. Powerful beyond measure. His frost vastly strong. His death would be a feast. Yours for the killing, Daughter of Darkness. To make you strong beyond measure, your fire and your dark. Unmatched power. Incendiary power. Bliss.
I turned my back on it angrily, my whole body shaking with the effort of separating its desires from my own.
“Arcus,” I said, trying to reclaim myself, to reassert my identity. “Remember the shard must be no smaller than a coin.”
The Minax screamed, a howling excoriation of the quiet places in my mind, like a gale-force wind that scrapes mountains bare. I covered my ears, but the sound was inside me, shearing my nerve endings and stabbing through my veins. My shoulder bashed the rough wall as I tried to escape. Then arms came around me.
“Ruby, I’m here. You’re not alone. We have to do this.” The low rumble of Arcus’s voice soothed me. I grabbed his collar and held on as the scream faded.
“It wants…” I shook my head, eyes wide but unseeing, as if the sound had stolen all other senses.
“Don’t listen to it,” he said, pulling my attention back with his commanding tone. “Listen to me. You can do this. We can.” He held me tight for a few seconds, his cold lips pressing firm kisses to the top of my head, brushing the pulse at my temple, gliding across my cheek.
Everything else faded as the mindless pleasure of feeling his cool lips took every ounce of my attention. It had been so long since we’d touched like this. I realized in that moment how scared I’d been that he would never hold me again. Layers of distance between us fell away, melted by his hands curved tenderly over my shoulders, the gentle brush of lips on my forehead. I wanted to burrow into the comfort he offered and live there for a while, cherished and protected.
The reassuring scent of his skin calmed me, and I drew strength from his size, from his natural self-assurance, from his steadfast belief in me. When I felt ready, I nodded and pushed him away, straightening.
“Let’s get it done,” I said, all calm resolution on the outside, while my insides quaked with nerves.
“If you melt the rock completely, you will free it,” Prince Eiko warned. “You must leave a portion intact.”
Do not trust him. Do not trust him, said the Minax. This throne is yours for the taking. Our union will bring you extraordinary power. Embrace me.
“I know,” I replied to Prince Eiko, shoving the voice away. “Arcus, I’m not… myself right now. I may… I may lose track of the size of the shard.”
His eyes were shadowed, but I felt their intensity. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”
We moved forward until we stood about two arm lengths from the throne. Close enough to attack, but far enough that I couldn’t touch it. I knew instinctively that physical contact with the throne was dangerous for me. The frost Minax had been an invasion, an insidious voice in my head. The fire Minax felt like an extension of self. A universe where I could happily dwell forever.
I shuddered.