Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(54)

Suddenly, I sensed a pressure under my skin, and a consciousness that was not my own examining the feel of my form, curious and searching, like a bird that visits a newfound nest. I realized I’d been holding my breath, and exhaled a mouthful of air. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to find the light inside myself, to expel the presence inside my skin.

“Ruby,” a man’s voice said. “What are you doing?”

My eyes flew open, but all I could see was a tall, shadowy figure, with only dim light coming through an open door. We were in a dusty storage room filled with broken baskets, sagging shelves, and piles of firewood.

“Where did the throne go?” I whispered.

The form moved closer, a warm hand finding mine. “You’re not really awake, are you, Ruby? Come. I’ll take you back to your room.”

With those words, I felt the dark presence shift, felt its reluctance as it flowed out of me, leaving me limp and shaking.





FOURTEEN



A WOODEN BRIDGE WITH ROPE CABLES spanned two cliff faces. Lava poured from one cliff like a waterfall, gathering in a wide pool under the bridge before flowing away in a thin river that cut through the narrow canyon, meandering out of sight toward the northern edge of the island. In the center of the bridge, missing boards left a gap a couple of yards wide. A large glass cube sat over the gap.

I squinted, ignoring the elevated rush of my heart as I tried to figure out what it was and how it might relate to my second trial. I heard Kai swear under his breath and Master Dallr hiss at him to be silent.

The glass had a bluish sheen and was too thick to see through. I’d never seen—

I drew in a breath and stopped. Not glass. Ice.

Only a Frostblood could create ice in this warm climate—shape and craft it so carefully. And I hadn’t seen any Frostbloods since coming here, aside from the queen’s servant. Had he made this on her orders?

Kai appeared at my side, speaking quickly. “You can do this. You are ready. You just can’t let yourself—”

“Silence,” said Master Dallr. “Remove your shoes and stockings.” I did so, dropping them beside the path. He motioned for me to approach the bridge.

“You see the chamber of ice,” he said quietly.

I swallowed convulsively and nodded.

“The ice will hold if you remain still and calm. It’s a test of restraint and endurance, control over your mind and body. Vital qualities in a master.” He pulled a small hourglass from a pocket and held it up. “You must sit in the chamber for one hour, at which time, you will return here. If you move from that spot before I permit you to move, you will forfeit.”

I turned to stare at the pool of lava below. My fingernails bit into my palms, frustration already raising my temperature. I had never been able to repress my heat under stressful conditions. Brother Thistle had warned me that I needed to learn. Why hadn’t I listened?

“You may begin,” said the master.

His face was a mask of indifference. How many young students had he watched die in tests like this? For a people with fire in their veins, it was such a cold way to measure its masters. And this trial in particular—a test of my ability to deny my very nature—seemed devoid of pity.

I couldn’t afford to get angry, not now. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then started toward the bridge.

“Stay calm,” Kai instructed, grabbing my arm as I went to pass him. “Don’t get upset, no matter what happens. Think only of controlling the beat of your heart, of keeping your skin cool. Deep breaths.”

He pulled me tight against him. I had a moment, pressed to his chest, to ponder the irony of his advice. He counseled me not to grow warm, not to worry. Meanwhile, I could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly against my cheek, his overheated skin, his heart thudding in my ear. His warm lips pressed hard against my forehead, and then he let go.

I grasped the rope cables that ran like handles on both sides and stepped on the bridge. It was just wider than my shoulders but sturdy under my bare feet. I followed it until I reached the center. A small opening allowed access into the ice chamber. I climbed in and slowly sat, crossing my legs. I wouldn’t look down.

Brother Thistle’s lessons in mental control had never been so vital. Breath after breath, beat after beat of my heart, I sought the word he’d taught me and returned to it, trying to clear my mind. Without the freedom to coat myself in extra layers of warmth, I started to shiver.

Several minutes passed before I realized that my legs weren’t just cold; they were growing damp.

The ice was melting.

My heart stuttered and pumped faster. My fingers tingled with pings of heat. I took several shuddering breaths. Calm. Cold. Slow. Slow. I thought of Arcus, his cool skin, his command of his gift. His lessons on control. I struggled to master my responses, not to panic.

Without deciding to, I looked down. Oh, Sud. Under the blur of ice, the orange of hot lava. How would this hold? How could it possibly—

Stop. Focus. I squeezed my eyes shut and returned to the task at hand: slowing my heart, my breathing. Keeping the heat at bay, ignoring the biting discomfort of the cold.

The minutes crawled.

When next I opened my eyes, I was sitting in a groove in the ice. My leggings were soaked. Still, I focused on the word, on not letting panic rule. The ice was melting quite slowly. If I could just keep myself as cool as possible, this would all be over and I would pass the test. I could do this.