Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(21)
It was the closest thing to hope I’d felt in weeks. “But… Arcus will never agree to my traveling to Sudesia. He’ll say it’s too dangerous. And even if he would allow it, you know he would send warships and soldiers to accompany me. We might as well declare war.”
“We need that book,” he said. “I’m convinced it has the answers we seek.”
I saw my own certainty reflected in Brother Thistle’s eyes. There was no alternative: I had to go. But we couldn’t tell Arcus.
Even as worry and guilt churned in my stomach, I couldn’t help a surge of excitement at the prospect of boarding that ship. Sudesia was a land of warmth and fire. I had longed to know where Firebloods came from, the customs and practices of a place that seemed mysterious to me now but was home to my ancestors. Home to my mother before she’d come to Tempesia, though she’d never told me why. Maybe in returning to her homeland I would find that part of myself that echoed with empty longing since the day she died. “When I get there,” I said, “if I get there safely… where should I start?”
“There is a library in the school for Fireblood masters that is second to none, and older even than ours. If you can find the ancient text, or perhaps a scholar with an obsession for esoteric knowledge, there lies our last hope of finding out how to destroy the Minax.”
“Then you should come with me. No scholar is more obsessed than you.”
“I highly doubt your Sudesian friend would allow me on his ship.”
“Why shouldn’t he? After all, if it weren’t for you, King Rasmus would still be on the throne.”
“If it weren’t for us.” He reached out and patted Arcus’s hand where it lay limply on the covers. “Whatever our mistakes, we did accomplish that.”
I covered Arcus’s other hand with mine. We sat like that quietly for a minute, the three of us connected. We’d been through so much together. I didn’t want to leave them. The thought alone made it feel like a steel clamp was squeezing my heart.
“But it does not matter that I helped you,” he continued. “The Sudesians would see me only as a Frostblood. An enemy.”
“Then I’ll go alone,” I said softly. “But how can I leave Arcus like this, wondering if he’ll recover? He’ll worry about me.”
“I will tell him our plans as soon as you’re gone. He will be angry, but he will forgive me. Try to send us a message when you arrive in Sudesia. Perhaps if the southern provinces are aiding the passage of Sudesian ships, they would also be willing to let messages pass.”
“I will. And I’ll find the book.”
“Do not tell the queen your intentions. If she is under the influence of the curse, she will protect the throne at all costs. Your best chance is to ingratiate yourself with her and the Fireblood masters. If they see you as some sort of hero for destroying the frost throne, you might be welcomed.”
I noticed a thin coating of frost covering the monk’s chair, a sign he was losing control of his gift and more anxious than he let on. And no wonder. There were so many hopeful assumptions in our plan. And so much on my shoulders. It was dizzying. For a minute I just gripped my hands together and breathed deeply until I regained my composure.
“So if you think about it,” I said, “not only will I be searching for the book, I’ll be trying to mend ties between our kingdoms, which is just what Arcus wants. In that light, I could be called a sort of unofficial ambassador on behalf of the Frostbloods.” I caught his eye and we both smiled at the irony, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Really, Brother Thistle, who would have thought?”
“As much as I cringe to think of sending you on a mission of diplomacy,” he said, “you are our best hope for peace. And our only hope for destroying the Minax.”
We discussed the plan until my eyes grew heavy, and Brother Thistle left. Arcus’s bed was so large that I was able to curl up at the foot quite comfortably. Exhaustion took over and I drifted off immediately, opening my eyes only when I heard Arcus asking for water. Dawn seeped through the crack between the curtains, laying a yellow stripe across the floor. I hopped from the bed, shivering in the morning chill. I poured water from a crystal pitcher and held the cup to Arcus’s blue-tinged lips.
He struggled to lift his head. I slid one hand behind to help him, my heart contracting at the sign of weakness. Even in the battle for the throne, he hadn’t been hurt like this.
He took a sip and nodded, settling against the pillow as I put the glass back on the table.
“I didn’t expect you to be here,” he said, his voice rough from sleep.
I smiled, light-headed with relief that he was awake and lucid. “At your service.”
“I need to be ill more often,” he said. “My own personal—”
“If you say ‘servant,’ I’m leaving.” The truth was, he could say whatever he wanted and I wasn’t going anywhere. I would savor these last few moments with him.
One eyebrow rose. “I was going to say ‘healer.’”
“Ah.” I smoothed my fingertips over his forehead and he closed his eyes with a sigh. “That’s acceptable. Although I have no idea what to do other than keep you in bed.”
A mischievous grin spread across his face.