Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords #3)(19)

But there is one thing we share.

We depend on the other world’s climate to regulate our own. We hate each other, but need each other to survive.

The Fourth—on each planet—is the farthest you can get from the other world. The Fourth Sector of Glacium is uninhabitable, with weather so cold, you could freeze in minutes. The Fourth Rotation of Osolis so hot your clothes could burst into flame—if you didn’t die from the smoke first. The Fourth areas of Glacium and Osolis are a constant reminder to us that if Osolis does not give off heat and firelight and if Glacium does not provide cold, we will all perish. The fire will spread through Osolis and burn everyone, while Glacium drowns.

I reach the First Sector and alter my course to the Sixth where the king and his assembly are situated. The ruler and their court tend to only move through the first, second, and third areas, migrating every half-revolution to avoid the fourth. The villagers simply move around the fourth, from the third to the fifth, therefore making the most of whatever housing they’re able to find. Because the wealthier citizens move more often, the rich of both worlds have two residencies—one for living in while the other house is rotating through the fourth, fifth, and sixth. It’s unusual for a royal to be based in the Sixth. King Jovan only did this to remain close to the pathway in case of attack. It was a lucky thing he did.

I weave my way toward the ground a fair distance from the castle and after a careful landing, fold my Soar. Previously, I’ve landed in one of the courtyards behind the castle, but the watch may have orders to shoot. Unlikely, but not worth the risk. Pulling out my veil, I give a furtive glance at the thick trees around me and throw it over my head, placing the wooden band on top. My vision is instantly dimmed. I reach out a hand to the tree trunk next to me and wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I tuck my Soar underneath my arm and begin a quick walk in the direction of the castle.

I’ve landed on the outskirts of the Inner Ring, on the cobbled pathway which connects the richest and most prominent Bruma with access to the castle. A part of me wishes I could walk the other way, through the Inner Ring, then the Middle Ring, to the Outer Rings.

The rings on Glacium separated the different classes. The Inner Ring held the wealthy and was situated in the space closest to the castle. The Outer Rings held the penniless and was furthest from the castle, occupying the outer edges of this word. The Outer Rings may be the poorest part of Glacium, and riddled with danger, but some of my closest friends lived there in the fighting barracks. I’ll always remember my time there as the most uncomplicated and the most freeing part of my life. You fought, you survived, you ate and you drank.

I twist side to side as the wind catches the folded Soar under my arm, and ignore the few blue-eyed Brumas who pass me on my way. They gawk at my clothing and the contraption pinned to my side. I also have the veil on—which I tend to forget about now. That will draw almost as much attention as my clothing and the Soar. There was a time when I was painfully aware of the veil. But every time I removed the material, it became easier. Now I control the veil, not the other way around. I remember my jarring epiphany while talking to Adox. The path before me was still as clear as it had been in that soul-ringing moment. I couldn’t build my future on lies, like my mother. The only way forward for me was to reveal my true identity. Of course, I wouldn’t go about it like a fool. But if I had my way, the veil would never control me again. I will to decide how my secret is revealed. I won’t be forced into a corner.

A call goes up as I’m sighted. The portcullis is raised. I pass under the lattice of iron bars.

One of the watchmen runs toward me as fast as his full armor will allow him. I’m not sure why the watch wears such cumbersome equipment. The man gives an awkward bow, a terrorized expression on his face. “Tatuma Olina, the king has o-ordered you be taken to him immediately upon your arrival.” Well, that explains his fear. I doubt Jovan’s order was polite.

I nod calmly, despite the nervous thrill that jolts through me at his words. “That will be fine. Show me to him.” I wonder if this is one of the guards I tricked when I escaped to the Outer Rings.

The guard looks from me to the portcullis and back.

I smile beneath my veil. “Unless … you cannot leave your post?”

“But he did tell me to take you, and—”

I hold up a hand, trying to stem my laughter. “That’s fine. I’ll go to him directly and assure him of your determination to fulfill both of his commands.”

I leave while the watchman is still bowing. That one wasn’t picked for his brains.

It hits me as soon as I enter the heavy wooden entrance of the castle … I’m about to see Jovan! I stop in my tracks, halfway to the meeting room. The lack of sleep and stress of the last week has to be showing. I wonder what I look like. I shake my head to clear my foggy mind. What am I thinking? I resume my walk, ignoring the new tension.

“Uh, Lina?” I whip my head toward the sound. It’s Cameron. The little son of Tomi, one of the delegates.

“Cam, hello. Do you need something?” I ask.

“Nah, I’m all right. King wants to see you. I heard.”

Had Jovan given the order to everyone? I steadfastly ignore the warmth flooding through me. I’m tired enough to admit I feel this way because I’ve missed him. I’m too weary to pretend it’s just eagerness to relay the news of what happened in the Ire. But knowing my feelings and acting on them are two different things.