Prince's Fire (24 page)

And yet political scheming was not unknown here.

“We've learned some important things we need to share with you,” she told Lornis.

The Legaciatti took up positions around the room, ensuring that they would have privacy, and Celeste and Vitala told Lornis what they'd learned from Bayard: that Councilor Worryn had arranged for the assassination attempts, that Zoe was no Inyan woman at all but a Riorcan assassin sent to Inya first to produce an illegitimate heir, then to remove Rayn from the line of succession.

Lornis looked grave as he took in these facts, but he did not seem surprised. “Councilor Worryn is a known enemy,” he said, “but Rayn needs to be warned about Zoe. She recently abandoned the palace.”

“She's gone?”

“Just up and left, yes,” said Lornis.

“That might be good, or it might be bad,” said Celeste. “Take me up on the mountain, and I'll tell Rayn what I know. He may be in danger.”

Lornis nodded. “I'll contact the base camp and see what I can do.”

C
eleste had never felt as small as when she looked upon the lava flow on Mount Drav. When she'd seen the mountain from a distance and observed the glowing red line of lava, she'd imagined something akin to a river. Now that she was up on the mountain, viewing the flow from up close, she realized that she'd vastly underestimated its size. It was nothing like a river. It was a slow-moving beast of colossal size, well over ten feet tall and wider than she could see from her vantage point. Everything it touched, it devoured utterly. Trees in its pathway burst into flame; bushes vanished in puffs of steam.

Her horse, borrowed from the Inyan stables, shifted uneasily on the mountain trail and tossed its head. Its muscles tensed beneath her, and she could tell the animal wanted nothing more than to turn around and head back to the lowlands.

For all its power, the lava flow was eerily quiet. Flames crackled and spat when it set the vegetation afire, but the lava itself was silent, inevitable death. Mostly all she heard were the shouts of the Fireturners.

Rayn's voice rose above the others, sharp and crisp as he gave orders. The other men—and some women, she realized—responded with equal brusqueness, putting her in mind of a military operation.

How could they stand being so close to the lava? She was a hundred yards away at least, on a rocky trail overlooking the scene. Even at that distance, heat spilled off the lava in an asphyxiating wall. Much closer, and the air would be stifling. She understood now how important the fire mages' magic was—without their ability to heat or cool the air around them, they wouldn't be able to do this work at all.

“How do they turn the lava in the desired direction?” she asked Magister Lornis, who sat beside her on his horse. Vitala was also present, staring at the spectacle.

“They cool it at the edges,” said Lornis. “When lava is cooled, it hardens into rock. Do you see how they're building a wall along that ridge?”

Indeed they were. It was hard to tell, since most of the Fireturners were clustered about that area, blocking her view. But she saw that a wall of cooled lava was in fact taking shape.

Sometimes the Fireturners walked directly over the lava. There was a man up on the flow now, gesturing at the people on the ground. When he spoke, Celeste realized that man was Rayn.

Rayn lifted his head and spotted Celeste. For a moment he stood completely still. Then he spoke to his people again—words Celeste couldn't make out from this distance—and hopped from the lava to a rocky ledge, then from the ledge to the ground.

He jogged toward her.

Celeste dismounted from her horse and ran to him, heedless of the wall of sweltering air that engulfed her.

He held up his arms. “I'm filthy, covered with ash—”

Celeste flung her arms around him. Yes, he smelled of brimstone and fire, but he was her Rayn, and it was nothing a good bath wouldn't take care of.

“You came for me,” he murmured into her ear, hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. A wave of wintry air surrounded her, countering the heat of the lava. Rayn's magic was at work again, this time cooling her instead of warming her.

Suddenly she remembered that she was uncertain of her welcome—that Rayn had left Riorca abruptly with no word of where the two of them stood. “Why did you not come to see me before you left Riorca?”

“I tried.” He pulled back just enough to stroke her face. “Did you not receive my letter?”

“What letter?”

Rayn's brows lowered. “Lucien's men intercepted me when I tried to come from the
Water Spirit
to speak to you. They forced me to return to my ship, but I gave them a letter that they were to deliver to you.”

Gods, a letter? It would have made all the difference in the world. “I never received it.”

He frowned. “I think somebody must have decided they didn't want you to have it. Never mind—you're here. That's all that matters.” He glanced back at the lava flow. “What do you think of Inya so far? This is, I suppose, a rather rude introduction.”

“It's beautiful and fascinating.” She studied him, noting the weary cast to his face. He must be exhausted. “How long have you been up here fighting the lava?”

Rayn shrugged. “I lose track of time on the mountain. Two days? Maybe three?”

“Do you sleep in shifts?”

“Yes, at the base camp. As little as we can get away with and keep our magic strong. It takes many of us, working together, to cool the lava enough to build the walls that will contain it. This is no trivial bit of magic.”

“How in the world do you walk on top of the lava?”

Rayn glanced back at the massive flow. “Fire magic isn't just about warming things. We can also draw the heat out of things—cool them down. I just cool the surface of the lava where my feet step, enough that it hardens a little and becomes walkable. I have to keep moving when I'm doing it, because the hardened bits of lava tend to sink.”

“What about the other lava flows? When I was in Tiasa, looking up at the mountain, I saw quite a few of them—smaller ones, I mean.”

“This is the only one that matters,” said Rayn. “The others won't even make it off the mountain.”

“They'll dry up on their own?”

“Yes, they'll cool and harden into rock, right here on the mountainside. My people are monitoring a couple of the larger ones, but I don't think we'll have to do anything about them.”

“So this big one—it's not going to stay on the mountain like the others?”

He shook his head. “This one we have to send into Four Pines. The good news is that Mount Drav tends to erupt in a similar way every time, and we've directed many flows to Four Pines over the centuries. We know the critical places where our walls have to be built up to divert the flow, and in most cases those walls are already in place. We just have to shore them up and make sure the lava doesn't overrun them.”

One of the Fireturners shouted Rayn's name. Rayn turned, looking torn.

“I won't keep you. This is important work,” she said.

“When I'm done here, I'd like to talk to you,” said Rayn. “At length.”

“Absolutely,” said Celeste. “Let me tell you one thing, though. Zoe is a Riorcan assassin.”

Rayn's mouth twisted. “I thought she might be. She's disappeared of late. I was going to send someone to look for her—”

“I'd be very careful if you did that. She may have joined her fellows. She's got two other assassins with her, here on Inya.”

“Soldier's Hell,” he said. “I'll tell you what little I know when the eruption is over, and you can fill in the blanks for me.”

“If you see her, keep your distance. She's got Shards. Like the empress.”

His brows rose.

“Also . . .” Perhaps now was not the best time to tell him that Zoe was a wardbreaker. “Never mind. I'll tell you later.”

Rayn nodded to Vitala, who was still on her horse. “Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Your Highness,” answered Vitala. “This is quite a spectacle. I've never seen the like.”

“It's a dangerous spectacle for those without fire magic,” said Rayn. “Do keep well back—I wouldn't want harm to come to you or your sister-in-law.”

“Nothing would induce me to go any nearer,” said Vitala.

Rayn turned to Celeste. “Kiss for luck?”

She'd been hoping for such an invitation. She threw her arms around his neck, heedless of the ash that smudged his face. He tasted of fire, and his skin was hot against hers. Muscles flexed as he wrapped her in his arms, and she felt his strength—the strength of a man who could tame a mountain.

As their lips parted, he stroked her cheek with a gentleness that belied the power of his body. “I wish I could stay,” he murmured.

She shook her head. “Go. We'll settle everything later.”

•   •   •

When it was over, and the lava flow had been safely directed into Four Pines, Rayn washed the mountain's filth from his body and slept for sixteen hours straight. The fires would burn in Four Pines for a while, and needed to be managed so that they did not get out of control, but his cousin Tiannon had volunteered to organize the shifts for that work so that Rayn could prepare for his ratification vote. When Rayn awoke the next morning, he could think of nothing but Celeste. He dressed with a great deal more care than usual and went in search of the Kjallan princess.

He found her at breakfast with Empress Vitala and Magister Lornis. Though his heart beat a tremor against his rib cage just at seeing her, he was frustrated that she had company. He wanted to speak to her alone.

Celeste's eyes lit up when she saw him. “Rayn!”

“Princess.” He inclined his head in formal greeting, yet couldn't stop himself from pasting a huge, sloppy grin on his face. Lornis would scold him for the diplomatic impropriety. He took a seat at the table. A servant delivered his coffee, which he sipped gratefully. “Are you enjoying your stay in Inya?”

“It's a beautiful country,” said Celeste. “I love everything about it.”

The words warmed his heart. If she loved it, maybe she'd be willing to stay. He took a seat, and a servant placed his favorite breakfast in front of him, seasoned rice topped with a fried egg and surrounded with crisp vegetables. “Has Lornis shown you around?”

“He offered,” said Celeste. “But I felt . . . Well, I was hoping
you
would do it.”

Rayn grinned again. She'd just handed him the perfect excuse for spending some time alone with her. “Princess, I would love to show you my favorite places around Tiasa.” Then he realized he could hardly exclude the empress of Kjall. “And the empress as well.”

Vitala gave him a sly smile. “Much as I'd like to spend the day touring, Lornis and I have business to attend to.”

Praise the gods—she was on his side.

“Rayn,” said Lornis, “I have plans for you. Now that the Kjallans are here, we need to visit the Merchants' Guild again. Plus I'd like you to make some public appearances with Celeste. And you should talk about the lava flow that went into Four Pines. Those farms are burning. You did the right thing, but we need to make sure the people of Tiasa don't draw the wrong conclusions.”

Lornis was right about Four Pines; there was no doubt Councilor Worryn would try to paint his successful fire-turning in a negative light. But to make appearances with Celeste was premature. He hadn't even established yet why she'd come all this way to visit him. “Tomorrow I'll put myself at your disposal, Lornis. But today I'm spending time with Celeste.”

“Your ratification is in five days—” began Lornis.

“I know that,” said Rayn. “This is important.”

“Let them go,” Vitala urged Lornis. “Rayn's been up on the mountain for days, and Celeste has eagerly awaited his return. They have much to discuss. Let them have a day to themselves.”

Lornis grudgingly agreed.

Rayn was glad of it, since nothing was going to stop him anyway.

R
ayn presented her with a dozen interesting ideas for where they could go, but Celeste wanted to start with something simple: a visit to the beach. Ever since she'd seen that pale white sand near the Tiasan harbor, she'd been dying to feel it between her toes.

Rayn wanted to take her to a different beach, however: one he said was more private. Celeste decided to bring Patricus, who would enjoy a swim in the ocean.

Rayn frowned when Atella and a second Legaciattus trailed them to the stables. “Must we bring your guards?”

“Lucien would have my head if I went anywhere without them,” said Celeste.

“But it's not Inyan custom,” said Rayn. “In fact, it carries a stigma here.
How do you tell a good king from a bad king?
”

“
The bad king is surrounded by bodyguards
—you told me. But I'm not Inyan. Your people must understand that Kjallans operate by a different set of rules.” She'd never been without bodyguards in her life, excepting those few days in the Riorcan wilds. And with a known group of assassins targeting Rayn, she wasn't going anywhere without an escort. While she doubted anyone would attempt to harm her, Rayn was certainly in danger. By bringing along a Kjallan escort, ostensibly for herself, she could offer a measure of protection to Rayn that for Inyan cultural reasons he could not provide on his own.

However, she shared his disappointment that they would have no privacy. That had been part of the magic of the Riorcan wilds, a time that had been physically stressful and frightening, yet which she nonetheless regarded with wistful longing. For once in their lives, she and Rayn had been entirely on their own. They'd made their own decisions with no one watching, no one protecting, no one judging.

At the stables, Rayn mounted his blood bay, and Celeste swung up onto the smoke gray gelding she'd ridden on the mountain during the volcanic eruption. The grooms produced two additional horses for the guards, and they set off. Patricus loped at their side.

They wound their way through the streets of Tiasa. The Tiasan townsfolk did not scatter aside in fear, but actively engaged Rayn, calling his name and waving to him. He answered them with waves of his own and the Inyan greeting,
“Gama!”
It had no translation in Kjallan but meant something along the lines of “I see you.” This interaction with the people in the streets was a new experience for Celeste. When Kjallan imperials rode into Riat, their bodyguards surrounded them, and everyone scrambled out of their way. Most Kjallan civilians, especially those living outside of Riat, wouldn't recognize their rulers on sight, since the imperial family left the palace grounds infrequently and rarely spoke to anyone outside the nobility and the military command structure. Lucien's profile was on the Kjallan tetral, but the iconic representation didn't look much like him.

Yet Rayn was known to his people not as an image on a coin but as a living, breathing man. The townsfolk recognized him and apparently liked him. He must have spent a great deal more time in Tiasa than she or Lucien ever had in Riat. The thought intrigued her. What would it be like to be queen here, in a country where the people would actually know her?

She steered her horse alongside Rayn's. “The people here seem to like you.”

“I've been popular since that business with the King's Lands,” he said. “And it doesn't hurt that I'm a Fireturner.”

Of course Rayn would be loved by his people when he served them in such a direct and useful way. Sadly, she could think of no equally visible service that Lucien and Vitala provided for the people of Kjall. Not that they weren't excellent rulers; they were some of the best Kjall had ever possessed. But their work wasn't so visible. They kept Kjall out of wars, rebuilt its neglected infrastructure, weeded out corrupt bureaucrats, and trained retired soldiers in new skills.

She had no idea what the people of Kjall thought of her or of Lucien or of Vitala. Maybe her family could take some lessons from the Inyans. They could be less aloof and more personable toward the townsfolk. Perhaps the men of the Mathematical Brotherhood had rejected Celeste not simply because she was a woman, but because she was an
imperial
, and the imperials weren't popular in Kjall.

They left the city and cantered down a road of soft dirt, riding abreast. Trees overhung the road, while ferns and bushes crowded close to the edges. The jungle loomed over and around them, not overtly threatening, yet quietly asserting its power. She felt the jungle would, given half an opportunity, swallow up this road entirely.

Rayn turned his horse off the main path, and she fell in behind him since there was no room to ride abreast. They traveled a ways, and Rayn pulled up his horse. She yanked on the reins as her horse ran up against the blood bay's hind end.

They were pinned between two rocky cliffs, each overhung with vegetation. The cliffs converged on their position, blocking further progress, but ahead, a rock tunnel carved its way through the cliff face. A pair of guards stood before the tunnel, which surprised Celeste since Inya used so few guards in general. Why station two of them way out here? Rayn spoke to one of them in rapid-fire Inyan. He glanced back at Celeste with a nod of invitation and urged his horse forward into the tunnel at a walk.

She followed. It was cool in the cave, but not dark. She could see daylight up ahead. The clops of her horse's footfalls changed to pats as the ground beneath them transitioned from stone to sand. They emerged from the tunnel into the sun. Celeste sneezed at its bright glare and blinked at the white sand beach that lay before them. Beyond it, the ocean glittered as if a thousand sapphires were strewn across its surface.

Patricus, upon spotting the water, barked in delight. He dashed forward a few yards and turned to stare at Celeste, his head cocked and his body poised for action.

“Go,” she said, granting him permission, and he raced for the water.

Rayn grinned as he awaited her reaction to the scenery.

“It's beautiful,” she said.

“And it's private,” he said. “Reserved for the exclusive use of the royal family.”

“Are these King's Lands?” she asked.

“No, the King's Lands are public,” said Rayn. “This is something else. Look, you'll see there's no access to this beach at all except through the tunnel. Or by boat, I suppose, if you want to sail around all this way.”

She clucked to her gelding, who stepped out onto the beach. The animal's hooves sank into the deep sand. Right away she saw what Rayn was talking about. This wasn't an open beach, stretching away endlessly on either side, but a sheltered cove enclosed by two rocky cliffs. Nearby was a cluster of palm trees, providing a bit of shade. “Let's put the horses over there,” she suggested. She wanted to feel sand between her toes.

Beneath the palm trees, they dismounted and handed their reins to the Legaciatti. “Stay here,” Celeste ordered them. “I want to walk with Rayn by the water, alone. I don't think we're in any danger.”

“Your Imperial Highness—” Atella protested.

“Look around,” said Celeste. “The whole place is enclosed. No one can touch us here.”

Atella nodded grudging acquiescence.

Celeste kicked off her shoes.

Rayn took her hand and led her out onto the sand. “Let's see if the ocean has left us any gifts.”

The sun, still low in the morning sky, was warm but not blistering. Later she might wish for Rayn's magic to cool them down, but for now the air was pleasant. Patricus, spotting them, came in from the ocean, shook off the seawater, and gamboled about the beach, sniffing at everything.

Celeste's feet sank into the sand as they walked, but as they neared the water, the sand became firmer. They reached the water's edge. A shallow wave rolled over her feet, tickling her toes.

Rayn glanced back at the guards, who were out of hearing range by now. “I think we've enough privacy to talk now. Will you tell me why you came to Inya? When I left Riorca, your brother was adamantly opposed to our having any further contact.”

“I wish I could say he'd changed his mind, but the truth is I'm here without his consent. He wouldn't let me come, so I stole his ship.”

Rayn stared at her. “You
stole his ship
?”

“I did.”

“But the empress is with you.”

“She caught me stealing it and decided to go with me. That makes this trip somewhat official, I suppose. But we don't have Lucien's support, and I expect he will come looking for me as soon as he manages to find a way here. When he arrives, he's not going to be happy.”

Rayn eyed her. “Why did you want to come?”

“You know already that Bayard was behind the assassination attempts. After you left, we persuaded him to confess, and we learned a few things. One of them was that Zoe was in his service. I felt we had to warn you immediately.”

“You came here to warn me about Zoe.”

“Yes.”

A line appeared in the middle of his forehead. “Was that your only reason?”

Celeste's cheeks warmed as she looked down at the sand. “I might have had another reason.”

Rayn lowered his hand into the shallow water. He grasped something and shook it in the water to rinse off the sand. “I believe the ocean
did
give us a gift.” He examined the object, and then, smiling, he placed it in Celeste's hand.

It was a shell of a variety she'd never seen before, flat on one side and rounded on the other. The flat side opened into what looked like a toothy mouth. The rounded side was smooth and glossy white, encircled with a bright band of gold.

“It's a ring cowrie,” said Rayn. “My ancient ancestors used them as currency.”

“Cowrie? Isn't that the word for the Inyan coin?”

“It is,” said Rayn, “and now you know why.”

Celeste turned the shell over and over in her hands. It did make a nice makeshift coin, of sorts. It was small and pleasant to hold and distinctively marked with that gold ring. She could imagine carrying a pocketful of these as currency.

“This is the actual coin.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver Inyan cowrie, and handed it to her. “See the ring on the back?”

She turned the coin over. It was marked with a golden ring, like the shell. “How interesting. I couldn't tell you where the Kjallan tetral comes from.” She handed both coin and shell back to Rayn.

He accepted the coin but pressed the shell into her hand. “Keep it. It's my gift to you.”

Though it was a small thing, she felt oddly touched. As an imperial princess, she was no stranger to gifts. On her birthdays she was practically buried in expensive presents by nobles and military officials hoping to curry imperial favor. Yet none of those gifts had any meaning. She would have traded them all for this tiny shell, because Rayn had found it and freely offered it to her.

“How did you get Bayard to confess?” asked Rayn.

Celeste told him the story: how the Order of the Sage had searched Bayard's house and discovered the letters from his secret wife, which Celeste had deciphered. How she'd interrogated the wife using mind magic. How Justien and his people had found the hidden enclave and arrested Bayard's coconspirators, and Bayard had agreed to talk so that his wife and children might go free. “He also told us he'd been hired by Councilor Worryn to assassinate you. Be careful around that man. He's not just a political enemy—he literally wants you dead.”

Rayn stopped walking. “So Worryn's behind everything?”

“Bayard said as much under truth spell. Worryn paid Bayard to somehow secure an heir from you and then assassinate you on foreign soil. It was planned well in advance. Zoe was sent here years ago as part of a plan that was to unfold over a long period of time.”

“But Zoe—the heir—are you telling me Zoe's not even Inyan?”

“Correct,” said Celeste. “She's Riorcan. She was born in Riorca and trained as an assassin there, by Bayard himself—the same man who trained the empress. She was taught your language by an Obsidian Circle enclave. And she's a fully qualified mage.”

“What sort of mage?”

“Wardbreaker. Like Vitala, she carries Shards, tiny weapons that she keeps hidden in the Rift until she needs them. The Shards are spelled. If she stabs you with one and breaks the ward on it, the spell takes effect. Usually it's a death spell. And she'll have learned other skills at the enclave as well.”

“Such as what?” His mouth twisted. “Seduction?”

Celeste swallowed. “I was thinking combat skills. I don't really know what else.” Vitala was rather guarded when talking about her Obsidian Circle training.

“This is a lot for me to think about.” He looked out at the ocean. “Will you give me a moment?”

“Of course.” She'd had the entire voyage, plus several additional days, to accept this new reality herself—and it didn't affect her personally as much as it did Rayn. She couldn't imagine how he must feel, knowing that a woman he'd once loved, or at least been attracted to, had seduced him entirely for the purpose of doing him harm. That the woman had lied to him from the first day she'd met him. “I can go back to the trees if you like.” She glanced at the Legaciatti, who watched them from beneath the stand of palms.

“No, just . . .” He gestured vaguely. “Away from the water.”

Celeste retreated inland past the tide line and sat in the soft sand.

Rayn waded through the waves into deeper water, where he stopped and stood motionless. His back was stiff, his muscles rounded and tense. She wished she could rub his shoulders and release some of that tension, but she'd promised to leave him alone.

He reached into the water and pulled something out—a rock or a shell. He drew back, winding up with his whole body, and flung the object out into the sea. It landed with a faint splash in the distance. He reached into the water and swirled his hand around again. This time he came up with a handful of dripping sand. He flung that.