Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(90)
Arcus slid the helm on and was buckling the leather breastplate as we swept down the hallway. I handed him the halberd I’d picked up off the floor.
I gave the prince a sideways look as he passed me at the stairs. “You enjoyed that too much.”
“Intrigue is rather invigorating. I don’t know why I don’t engage in it more often.”
“Thank you for getting me out,” Arcus said quietly from close behind me. “Is my crew involved?”
I shook my head. “Marella was in no condition to plan anything, and the crew isn’t big enough to face all the guards. You can thank Prince Eiko for this. He gave orders so that most of the guards were otherwise occupied.”
“A well-executed plan, which I appreciate. But why is the prince helping us?”
“We have a common goal.” I met his eyes and lowered my voice. “To melt the throne and trap the Minax. I need your help for that part.”
“Of course.” He cleared his throat and said only slightly louder, “Thank you, Prince Eiko.”
“It’s you who will be helping me,” Prince Eiko said. “I’ll breathe easier when the curse is far away.”
As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I reminded Arcus quietly, “Don’t let anyone see your eyes.” Frostblood eyes would stand out like bluebells in a bed of daisies. Luckily the helm with its horizontal eye openings around the narrow nose guard left the upper half of his face in partial shadow.
Arcus stuck close to the wall while Prince Eiko and I stayed on the outside so anyone passing wouldn’t sense the waves of cold coming off his skin. His gift became harder to control in times of stress.
One of the courtiers came around a corner, a heavyset woman dressed in a turquoise gown covered with tiny white ribbons. As she saw us, she smiled and curtsied, blocking our way. “Prince Eiko, shouldn’t the princess be on her way to the initiation at the school? I’m on my way there now.”
Prince Eiko cleared his throat. “We’ll be along shortly, of course. I merely wished to… well, now, Lady Zini, you’re spoiling my surprise. I had planned to give the princess a piece of jewelry for the occasion—an heirloom from the royal vault.”
She clapped her hands in delight. “What a splendid idea! I look forward to seeing you wearing it later, Princess.”
Eiko bent his tall form in a bow. “If you’ll excuse us.”
We left the curious lady behind. Arcus and I followed Prince Eiko along the colonnade of arched windows that ran between the towers, nodding at anyone we passed and praying they didn’t engage us in conversation.
I breathed a sigh of relief when we reached the south tower.
“Hurry,” Eiko whispered, finally showing signs of strain as we moved through the empty entrance hall to a servants’ door, which opened to a dark stairwell leading down. “There’s a hidden entrance to the tunnels down here.”
When we reached the musty lower level, he passed a few doors and opened one to a dusty storage room filled with empty barrels and empty baskets. The prince slid a shelf away from the wall. A hidden door lurked behind it.
He moved into the dim space and we followed. The torches were spaced far apart, with chunks of near darkness in between. Our footsteps echoed against the rock. As we went deeper in, the air thickened and heated. I listened with concern as Arcus’s breath grew labored.
More tunnels branched off at random intervals, but Eiko didn’t hesitate as he led us along. I tried to memorize the path, but after innumerable twists and turns, all the squiggly lines of my mental map blurred together.
Now that we were safe from listening ears, I told Arcus what I knew about the throne, how Prince Eiko was convinced it was influencing the queen, how the book said the throne could be melted with frostfire, how the Minax could be contained by a small shard.
“And if Brother Thistle is right,” I concluded, “then the shard containing the fire Minax could be the key to destroying the frost Minax.”
Eventually, the tunnel opened into a vast cavern. Black pillars stretched from floor to ceiling, disappearing as they exceeded the reach of light from wall-mounted torches. In the center of the room, a large, blocky object glinted with pulsing veins of orange.
The throne of Sud.
Its presence dominated the air, commanded the flow of blood in my veins. Its power beat against me like great black raven wings, soft and swift and irrefutable. When I’d encountered the frost throne, I’d felt a sense of awe mixed with repulsion. Now, the awe was there in full measure, but without the counterbalance of aversion. Instead, I trembled with the need to prostrate myself, to swear allegiance, to serve.
My knees turned to water. I locked them to keep from crumpling to the floor. Arcus stood close, his hand briefly touching my elbow in support, but I was too overcome to respond.
I exhaled, long and slow. A corresponding intake of breath came from the throne, as if the sacrifice of air from my lungs provided the first full, satisfying breath it had taken in an age. I knew from experience that no one could hear the Minax but me.
A whispering started, a silky caress. I have waited. I have waited. You are here. You are here.
The fire Minax tugged at something inside me, as if a thread connected a spot behind my rib cage to the consciousness in the throne. How I longed to rush forward and fling myself against it like an insect against a lit window. Yes, I’m here, I thought, then shook myself. I was aware of the Minax in the same way one is aware of a gentle rain pattering over the roof. The whispers rustled in my mind, persuading rather than demanding. A ceaseless backdrop of chatter.