Coldbloods (Hotbloods #2)

I shuddered, wondering what that meant. Everything about Vysanthe felt Spartan. It was all about strength, and violence, and brutality. Lazar had been right—it held a savage beauty, but it was more savage than beautiful.

When Vasily returned with a small, circular disc, Navan thanked him, leaving him to watch with hopeful eyes as we departed the Observatory and returned to the Snapper. I turned and gave Vasily a delicate wave of goodbye, but the boy’s face twisted up in disgust as he saw it. It seemed few coldbloods were immune to the Vysanthean superiority complex, even if they were the runts of the litter.

“What’s on the disc?” I asked.

“Any breaches from the last couple of weeks,” Navan replied, pocketing it as we re-entered the Snapper and took off. “There should be a decent amount of information on here for Orion. I just need to find a way of sending it to him without alerting any security.”

“Can you do that?” I wondered, deeply concerned.

Navan nodded and took us back over the lip of the mountain peak. “I’ve got tech in my old place which I can use to transmit to Orion. Before we go there, though, I’d like you to see a few more things. Might as well use the chance we’ve got,” he said, giving me a smile.

“Where to first?” I asked, grinning.

“How about… the palace?”

“Sounds good,” I said, leaning back in my seat, watching the city sweep away below me.

A short while later, we drew up in front of the most exquisite building I had ever seen in my life. Twisting towers and glinting pinnacles rose up, almost as tall as the mountain that surrounded them, every single one drenched in sparkling diamonds. Where the walls of the university had been curved and strange, this building was sharp, every edge and contour cut with precision. Glittering balconies edged out every so often, with dark trees and brooding blooms sitting out, absorbing the Vysanthean sun’s cold light. The palace looked as though it had been carved from ice, like something torn from the pages of a dark fairytale.

It certainly suited the cutting demeanor of Queen Gianne. Yes, I imagined she felt right at home within a place like this.

“It’s quite something, right?” Navan said.

I nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You ready to see something else?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from the compelling, frosted walls of the palace.

“What else have you got up your sleeve?” It would take a lot to top this.

He took me to all of his old haunts, dropping the Snapper down wherever he wanted me to take a closer look at something from his past. We passed through a number of districts, though we never stopped at the place Queen Gianne had suggested—Plentha, the district where his family apparently lived. I could tell he was actively avoiding them after the way he’d violently disconnected the call the previous night. That was something I understood. Sometimes, parents just weren’t the people you wanted to see.

He took me to a winding river with a beautifully carved bridge crossing it. Underneath, meandering below the surface, were vivid silver fish with eyes that bulged out of their heads, their skeletons visible beneath the translucent flesh of their bodies. They were eerie and striking, all in one. Navan seemed pleased by them.

“We used to feed them when we were kids,” he murmured, his eyes transfixed by the fish. I had a feeling I knew who he used to feed them with, my heart aching for him. Being home must have reminded him of so much.

After a while, we moved on, heading for a park that he used to frequent, though it was nothing like the parks I knew back home. This was barren and unwelcoming, with coldbloods walking sternly around the edges. A few were walking with creatures that looked like dogs, only these were far more ferocious. They were jet black, their eyes red and their fangs razor sharp, and their wolfish heads snapped from side to side, taking everything in. As one passed by Navan and me, my insides constricted, and I found myself half expecting it to lunge for me and tear my throat out.

“Icehounds,” Navan told me, putting a comforting arm around my shoulder. With the hood of my fur coat up around my face, it was hard to tell I wasn’t a coldblood.

Wherever we went, Navan was recognized. I hadn’t quite realized I’d fallen for such a Vysanthean celebrity. Down every street, and standing on every corner, someone would stop him and welcome him back, saying how glad they were that he had returned. How did they all know? I guessed news traveled fast when you were the son of one of the queen’s closest advisors.

“There are two more places I want you to see,” he said, as we got back into the Snapper. “They’ve shaped who I am more than anything else,” he added, a grim expression settling across his face.

A foreboding atmosphere settled across the Snapper. Navan was somber, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a determined line. Ahead, I watched the mountainous district of Regium give way to the flat plateau of Plentha—the next-door district. Here, I could see towns and villages sprawling across shadowy plains, their grouped lights glowing like will o’ the wisps, keeping weary travelers on the right path.

He landed the Snapper beside a patch of woodland that was set apart from the nearby settlements. As I stepped out of the pod, I saw a chapel up ahead. It was small but perfectly formed, with a high steeple, the structure carved from pale gray stone. All around, a graveyard flanked the chapel. Although, it wasn’t like any graveyard I’d ever seen. Instead of headstones, there were colorful orbs placed at the heads of the burial sites. Approaching one, I staggered back as a holographic image burst out of the orb, startling me. An old man played on a loop, a smile stretching his face.

Navan walked past me, heading for the farthest side of the chapel. A willow-like tree with blood-red fronds dangling down stood there, and beneath it—a single, purple orb. Navan had stopped in front of it, his shoulders tensed.

Gently, I put my arm around him, and looked down to see the face of a beautiful young woman with raven-black hair, and eyes the same color as Navan’s, staring back. She was laughing in the image, though the loop was silent. Underneath my palms, I could feel Navan trembling.

“Naya?” I asked quietly.

Navan gritted his teeth, visibly steeling himself. “She shouldn’t be in the ground,” he said hoarsely. “Look at her—she was the epitome of life. Everyone loved her. She shouldn’t be in darkness, alone in there.”

I held him tighter, feeling his whole body shake. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing the words were not enough.

“She should be with Ronad. She should be alive and happy, but instead…” He trailed off, his voice choked. “This is all my father’s fault. His sick desire to pair us all off, damning anyone’s actual feelings!”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just held him, feeling him turn toward my embrace. I held him close, letting him grip me as hard as he wanted, until the worst of it ebbed away again.