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  Around us, the light had dimmed considerably, and the cold sun was making its descent behind the mountains, ushering in the bitter Vysanthean night. Navan had warned me that the days were short on this planet, and when night did come, not even the fur coat would protect me from the freezing temperatures. Coldbloods could endure it, but humans could not.

  With so little time before sunset, I could only wonder where he was taking me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  With the sun setting in the distance and the ghostly sphere of a moon rising behind the mountains, the Snapper soared across the towns and villages that glowed below. Eventually, all signs of civilization faded away, leaving a vast expanse of barren wasteland, the glint of ice and frost showing on the surface, making it shine like a mirror.

  Up ahead, a few dim lights appeared. A makeshift town rested in the shadow of a hillside, a glittering lake beside it, the water dark. Navan set the Snapper down, pulling me to him as we exited the vessel, heading in the direction of the ramshackle town. There was a high wall around it, with metal spikes pointing upward, but the guard on the door—a gruff, scarred brute—simply nodded to Navan as we passed.

  “Nice to see you back, man,” he grunted.

  Navan nodded. “We won’t be long.”

  Inside, there were leaning stalls selling vials, as well as structures with people inside calling out names and numbers at the tops of their voices. Coldbloods crowded around these particular stalls, brandishing what looked like money in their direction. I’d seen enough derbies to know they were gambling.

  Navan didn’t say a word until we reached the edge of a large pit. Coldbloods surrounded the perimeter, their eyes focused on what was going on below. I glanced over the muddy lip, and the sight shocked me.

  In the gaping hole were several small arenas. Inside, bare-chested coldbloods lunged at one another, some bare-knuckled, some wielding weapons, some fighting off huge beasts with dripping jaws. The scent of blood and fear rose up, stinging my nostrils. Whenever one of the warring coldbloods landed an exceptionally nasty blow, a roar of excitement went up from the surrounding crowds. I stared at one arena in particular as a toned female coldblood in light leather armor swiped a scythe at her opponent, knocking his head clean off his shoulders. My hands flew to my face.

  I turned to Navan, horrified. “What is this place?”

  “These are the fighting pits,” he replied solemnly, his eyes on the battles.

  “Wh-Why have you brought me here?” I gasped, as a different coldblood lost his arm to the slash of an enormous broadsword.

  “I was a champion here, before I joined the Explorer’s Guild,” he said, distracted. “I needed to get the pain out… and this was the only place I could do that.”

  “You fought here?” I whispered, watching two coldbloods circle each other, their knuckles drawn up to their tattooed faces.

  He nodded slowly. “When Naya died, the guilt was unbearable. I felt like I should have done more to stop it… to stop my father. So I fought to ease the pain.”

  I pictured him in the pits, brandishing one of those deadly weapons, taking the life of a fellow coldblood. I saw his anguished face, the guilt weighing him down as he lashed out to rid himself of the ghosts that haunted him. Had it not been for Jean and Roger, I wondered if I’d have ended up on a similar path of destruction. Maybe not fighting, but definitely something bad. It ran in my blood, after all.

  “Did you kill anyone?” I asked.

  He grimaced. “No, not here,” he said softly. “To be honest, I came here because… well, I thought I’d lose.”

  I stared at him, letting the words sink in. He’d done more than come here to ease the pain. He’d basically come here to commit suicide.

  His grimace deepened at my alarmed expression. “I know,” he said. “I’m not proud of what I did. It was the darkest period of my life… a period I’m determined to never return to. Nobody had trained me, so I was as good as dead, but by some miracle I won, and the crowds cheered my name, baying for the blood of the loser. I couldn’t do it, but the voice that wouldn’t shut up had gone. I fought a few more times, never killing my opponent, until the management asked me not to come back—I was bad for business.” He smiled wryly.

  “Is that how you got those scars?” I asked, thinking about the lines that crossed his chest, back, and, partially, his neck and jawline.

  He nodded. “I figured you must have wondered about them but were too polite to ask… They remind me of my penance. I would have gone mad without them.”

  “You didn’t kill Naya,” I reminded him gently.

  “I may as well have,” he replied miserably.

  The night was setting in, and the bitter cold penetrated the warmth of the fur coat bundled around me. My teeth had begun to chatter; my fingertips had gone numb. Seeing my discomfort, Navan put his arm around me and shepherded me back to the waiting Snapper.

  “You’re missed in the pits,” the brutish guard commented as we left. “Never seen anyone fight like that.”

  Navan flashed him a look. “Well, I won’t be coming back anytime soon,” he said. “Have a good night, Joden.”

  The guard nodded. “And you, boss.”

  The warmth inside the Snapper welcomed me like a longed-for hug, and I hurried to my seat in the cockpit, drawing the coat closer to my body. Despite the horror of the fighting pits, I was excited to see where Navan would take me next. A sliver of dusky sunlight still glanced over the hillside—there was still time.

  “Where to now?”

  Navan smiled. “Home.”

  Confused, I sat back as the engine roared to life. I didn’t think he wanted to visit his family, and I sure as hell didn’t know how they’d react to me. In the outside world of Vysanthe, I could get away with hiding my humanity and avoiding unnecessary attention, as long as I drew my hood up, but in the confines of a house I would be outed as an alien immediately.

  Turning the ship around, Navan flew it back toward the spot where we’d visited the chapel. I expected him to stop there, so I was surprised when he continued on, the Snapper’s metal base brushing against the canopy of an expansive forest. We reached a clearing in the trees, where he set the ship down.

  Stepping out, I saw a low structure in the shade of the gloomy, dark-leafed trees. It looked like a hut of some kind, with long-dead hanging baskets dangling from a wraparound veranda. No lights shone from the windows. Whoever lived here, it was clear they weren’t home.

  “What is this place?” I asked, my teeth chattering.

  “My ‘man cave’,” Navan replied with a smirk, leading me up to the front door. Opening it up, he ushered me inside.

  It was simple, with a lounge to one side and a kitchen to the other—though there was no oven or fridge in sight. I guessed coldbloods had no need for such things. In the back, there was a bathroom and a bedroom, with basic furnishings. Still, it felt homey now that I was inside.

  Navan wandered around, lighting lamps, before disappearing into the back bedroom. He returned a minute later with a bag, a few clothes trailing out of the top. In his hand he held a black box, which he set down on the surface of his coffee table. I eyed it curiously, sitting down next to Navan.

  “It’s the device I was telling you about,” he said, seeing my confused expression. “I’m going to upload the contents of the disc and transmit the information to Orion.”

  I watched with bated breath as Navan placed the disc into a small drive. A screen flickered up from the black box, showing the progress of the file. The blue line crept along the screen, taking its sweet time.

  “This is going to take a while,” Navan muttered. “Let’s go somewhere while we wait for it to finish.”

  I nodded, eager to see more of Navan’s world. Leaving the black box on the table, he rose and rummaged in a closet. He pulled out another bulky fur coat and wrapped it around me as a second layer, then led me out of the cabin. Clutching a flashlight that lit the way, he walked with me through the e
erie trees of the forest. My ears were pricked for the curious sounds of creatures in the undergrowth. A rustle close to my arm made me jump back, but Navan caught me, an amused chuckle rising from his throat.

  “There isn’t anything bad in these woods,” he promised. “The worst creatures live up near the mountains. Here, we’re pretty safe.”

  Not entirely convinced, I clung to Navan as we continued through the shadows of the forest. It wasn’t as cold here as it was out in the open, but I could still feel the bite of the Vysanthean wind on my face, nipping at any bare flesh it could find.

  Before long, we emerged from the tree line into a tiny grove. I had never expected to see such color in Vysanthe, but the trees here were bright with vivid purple blooms and sunny yellow flowers. A pond stood in the center, with the same luminescent skeleton fish as before turning circles beneath the water. In the darkened sky, huge fireflies flitted to-and-fro, lighting up the air like lanterns.

  “This is my favorite place,” Navan said, pausing to admire the grove. As my eyes drifted across the scenery, I noticed a squat, glass igloo to one side of the pond.

  Navan led me to it, urging me through the door. The warmth within was blissful. On the floor was a pile of more furs, which I quickly sat down upon, wrapping myself up in the layers. Navan sat beside me, putting his arms around me as I nestled into him, feeling the cold in my limbs ebb away.

  Staring up, I saw the twinkle of stars in the distance, the sky blanketed in constellations. With no light pollution for miles, it felt like I could see every single one. Galaxies overflowing with stars streaked across the black velvet of the night’s sky. My eyes went wide in awe. A shooting star shot across the scene, but I had learned to be wary of such things. Where once I might have made a wish, now I prayed it wasn’t a ship, come to steal me away.

  Soon, I began to feel toasty in the shelter of the igloo. In fact, the heat was so intense that I began to feel sleepy. It was like coming in after playing in the snow, the glow of a fireside having a soporific effect.

  My eyelids grew heavy, my body leaning into Navan’s. He smiled, pulling me closer. Mumbling, I leaned up and kissed the curve of his neck, prompting him to lay me back down on the furs. He put one hand behind his head, while the other cradled me to him, my head resting on the smooth contours of his chest. It was the perfect pillow, his heartbeat my lullaby. Fighting with my need to sleep, I managed to catch one last glimpse of a beautiful, starry night, before it claimed me.

  * * *

  A pale dawn roused me from my slumber. My stomach was aching with hunger pains, making me realize I’d eaten nothing since that taste of blue fruit Queen Gianne had offered me, before cruelly swiping it from my grasp.

  Navan stirred, smiling down at me. “Morning,” he murmured.

  “Morning yourself.” I grinned, pushing thoughts of food from my mind.

  “We should be getting back,” he said, sitting upright.

  I nodded, scrambling to my feet. Rain was pattering against the glass curve of the igloo, the droplets icy cold on my face as we left its shelter. Racing back through the trees, we stopped by Navan’s cabin, but the crawling blue line on his device had yet to reach completion.

  Navan cursed. “We’re going to have to come back for it,” he said.

  “Can’t we… take it with us?”

  He shook his head. “We’re remote enough here that the signal won’t be noticed, but if I take it back to the palace, security will likely sense it. We’re going to have to leave it, and send it when we return.”

  “Can’t you program it to transmit once it’s loaded?”

  Again, he shook his head. “I need to check it first, make sure it’s in one piece.” With a disappointed expression, Navan picked up the bag he’d packed and headed for the door.

  “Don’t suppose you’ve got any food in there?” I said hopefully.

  He grimaced. “Rask, I’m an idiot—you must be starving! I’ll get something for you once we’re back at the palace,” he promised, gesturing for us to leave. With my stomach still growling, I followed him to the Snapper and got in, watching the fields and towns and wasteland disappear as we headed for Regium.

  “So are you gonna finally tell me who Rask is?” I asked as we flew.

  He smirked. “He comes from an old fable Vysanthean parents tell their kids—about an ancient god from the old days, when Vysanthe first rose from the ice. He’s a god of mischief and balance, offering a trick or a treat wherever he goes. It’s why we say his name when something good or bad has happened.”

  I suppressed a smile—finding it funny that what seemed to be one of their worst swear words came from a kid’s fairytale. I looked out at the view, picturing a shadowy deity, lauding his power across the frosty landscape of Vysanthe.

  It was only half an hour before we reached the imposing, glacial façade of the palace. Hurrying out, we headed for the vast silver doors that served as the palace entrance. Immediately, guards swarmed around us, demanding to know what our business was.

  “Queen Gianne is expecting us,” Navan announced, and we were ushered inside.

  The palace interior was as impressive as the exterior. Cavernous halls chimed with a thousand dangling crystals, icy chandeliers lining the route, with statues scattered about the place, looking like coldbloods frozen in time. Tapestries hung from the walls, depicting great scenes of war and the beautiful Queen Gianne standing in various poses, usually dominating a conquered species. Beside every single door that branched off from the main hallway, a guard stood, wielding a crackling staff.

  A moment later, we were taken through another set of huge double doors, into a grand room with a throne at the very end. Queen Gianne was sitting atop it, an angry look on her striking face. She eyed us with tangible annoyance.

  “And where the hell have you been?” she snapped, as soon as we were brought in front of the throne.

  “Getting reacquainted, Your Highness,” Navan replied coolly. “I visited some old haunts.”

  Queen Gianne glowered in his direction. “While I did tell you to explore, I didn’t mean you could just go wherever you pleased, for as long as you wished,” she growled. “I’m of two minds about whether I want to throw this celebration in your honor now.”

  “My apologies, Your Highness, I should have known to return sooner,” Navan groveled—a disturbing sight to see.

  “You were spotted near the boundary dividing the queendoms,” she remarked. “When my advisors informed me of this unfortunate news, I have to say, I feared the worst.”

  Navan looked up at her. “I would never cross the boundary, Your Highness. There were friends in a nearby border town I wished to visit. That is all,” he assured her.

  I frowned, wondering when we had reached this invisible boundary. I didn’t remember seeing it. Although, now that I thought about it, there was something strange about the location of the fighting pits. They had been so far from any other settlement—perhaps that was where the boundary lay, just beyond the pits? I reminded myself to ask Navan later… if Queen Gianne allowed us a later.

  The queen’s eyes narrowed to two furious, burning slits. She approached Navan, lifting his chin roughly with her hand so he was forced to look her straight in the face. Rage poured off her in waves.

  “Perhaps my first suspicion of you was correct, Navan Idrax,” she snarled, her beautiful face twisting into something ugly. “Perhaps you mean to betray me to Queen Brisha, like Jethro and Ianthan wanted to? Maybe they were the true followers, and you are the traitor.”

  It was clear that news of those two men’s betrayal had crept into the deepest parts of her paranoid mind. And I wasn’t sure that I could blame her—being a queen must be tough, especially when everyone wanted you dethroned, or worse. After all, Jethro had been high up in her esteem, once upon a time, offering his engineering wisdom. She had clearly trusted him as a close associate, and now… Well, it would be enough to make anyone paranoid. Distrust lingered in the air.

  Nav
an shook his head. “No, Your Highness. You are the one true queen—you have always been my queen. I would never betray you.”

  “My sister sends messages, you know, telling me there are spies in my midst,” she hissed. “That changeling witch wants to frighten me. She wants me to doubt everything so she can swoop in and take my throne. She thinks she’s better than me, but she has no idea. I know her better than she knows herself. She will not get to make the first move—you can be assured of that! I will kill everyone I have to before I let her take what is mine,” she roared, shoving Navan’s face away violently. I could see small marks where her nails had dug into his flesh.

  “Your Highness, we were just exploring,” Navan insisted. “I am no traitor.”

  Slowly, the queen’s chest stopped heaving, and she calmed down, brushing an elegant hand through her copper locks. Striding back up to her throne, she turned to glance back at us. A glimmer of cold amusement passed across her features.

  “Good,” she remarked. “Because, if you betray me, I won’t stop at just killing you.”

  Her eyes flickered to me, and in that moment, I knew I was in trouble.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “You!” she barked, looking right at me.

  I lifted my head, trying to look innocent. “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “You see that water in the fountain over there,” she said, gesturing toward a gem-encrusted water fountain a short distance away.

  I nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “Fetch a dish of it, and bathe my feet,” she instructed. “They are sore from my morning endeavors, and I would like them soaked and refreshed.”

  I went to stand, but Navan’s hand shot out and grasped me by the wrist. Torn, I crouched, half sitting, half standing, not knowing what to do. I couldn’t very well disobey a direct order, not if I wanted to live.