Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(43)



“I’m not scared of hard work.”

“Good.” He settled back and folded his arms behind his head. When he started to put his feet up on my seat, I knocked them off with my knee. It wouldn’t do to let Kai have his way all the time. He would become truly impossible.

As we passed the wharf, my nose wrinkled at the scent of hundreds of sweaty fishermen and laborers and ten times as many dead fish being gutted or dried or piled into baskets. In between shacks and fishmongers’ huts, the sea sparkled with flecks of sunlight that winked like a thousand cold diamonds. It reminded me a little of Arcus’s eyes when he was angry: sun-bleached blue lit with white sparks.

The bobbing ships made me think of the vision I’d just had in the Fireblood school. Whereas previous visions had been some form of memory—aside from the vision in the throne room, which was so strange it had seemed more like a nightmare—this recent one had felt real. Like a glimpse through a spyglass, as if I’d been watching something that was really happening. I had the sense I’d fallen into the Minax’s mind for a few minutes. If that were true, it had found its way to possessing some hapless sailor and was currently on a ship.

What if it was on its way to Sudesia? Would it come all this way to find me, its true vessel?

If so, it only made my mission more vital.

I couldn’t help but wonder what might happen to Kai once I escaped Sudesia. Would the queen turn on him and punish him for my disloyalty? Imprison him? Judging by our interaction in the throne room, she seemed as mercurial as the sea, capable of anything.

I watched Kai as he lazed on the carriage seat, staring out the window with a placid expression, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The only detail that belied the studied picture of ease was the hand resting on his knee. It was curled into a white-knuckled fist.





ELEVEN



“FORGET WHAT YOUR FROSTBLOOD monk taught you. I’m telling you to rein in your fire on the upswing and let it out at the end.”

Kai demonstrated by snapping a fire whip, the crack reverberating off the walls of the school. We’d arrived at the end of a morning practice session, watching a few minutes of sparring before the students filed inside for meditation. The scent of flowers perfumed the oppressively humid air. A handful of masters watched us from discreet positions on benches or stools. We’d been practicing for an hour and Kai was already impatient. It didn’t bode well for the rest of the afternoon.

“Fine.” I swished the fiery rope into the air in what I thought were impressive trails of flame. I controlled it well, but even I could see that it didn’t crack with the kind of force Kai had achieved.

He closed his eyes, his lips moving silently. Maybe he was begging Sud for patience, or more likely asking her to sweep me away with a strong wind that deposited me in a conveniently deep area of the sea. His initial optimism seemed to have worn off. He had to be so aggrieved that his second chance depended on me passing my trials.

Served him right for bringing me here in the first place.

“But yours has no bite.” He cracked another fire whip over my head, making me cringe involuntarily. “Your way is a dull sword. A toothless snake. You need to fully realize each and every move. You won’t pass the trials if you continue to—”

“I’m trying, Kai. I learned it one way and I can’t just… undo that in my mind!”

He expelled a frustrated breath. “I don’t have time to unteach you as well as teach you.”

I shared his frustration. If I couldn’t do this, all was lost. If my gift wasn’t strong enough, or if I wasn’t fast enough or clever enough to learn these lessons, everything I’d done since leaving Tempesia would be for nothing. My failure would mean the deaths of countless others if the Minax remained free.

Kai stared at his feet, his brow creased. This wasn’t any easier for him, I realized. So much rested on our combined success. We were so similar, both ready to lose our tempers at the slightest provocation. But I also saw his vulnerability. As uncertain as he was of me, he must feel a little uncertain of himself, too.

“I want to learn, Kai.” I waited until he lifted his head and looked at me before continuing. “But I’m having trouble understanding. Brother Thistle learned from watching the masters at a Fireblood school. It could have been this very school. How could his teaching be so different?”

He stared at me for a moment, his brow furrowed, then strode forward and grabbed my hands, turning them to face upward. I followed his gaze to my palms, which were dry and chafed and still smoking slightly from my last move. “The general principles he taught you are fine. But your monk is a Frostblood. He had to adapt these moves so they worked with ice, an element based in water.”

He pressed my palms together and pulled them apart. “Ice breaks, loses its form. It’s not as malleable, not as adaptable.” He curled my fingers against my palms, making fists. “As a result, Frostbloods rely more on brute force, but Firebloods…” He opened my hand again, staring down at it for a second before lifting his head to meet my eyes. “Make a small flame, Ruby. Small.”

I nodded and brought a flame to life in my palm. Kai held his fingers over it and, with a graceful manipulation as if he were sculpting clay, he made the fire twist and rise in little sections, its form almost like a castle. Or a crown.

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