“You will not die.” Inkar said it gently.
“It doesn’t matter what advantages I have. Sigis wouldn’t have risked challenging me if he weren’t sure he would win.”
“You will live a long and prosperous life, and everyone in Kylma will love you,” Inkar said. I snorted. “I mean it. When you are being yourself, you are…” Her hand moved from my shoulder to my jaw. My breath caught. One finger traced the line of my cheek, and her eyes followed it. The touch was feather-soft, the skin of her fingertips velvet.
“What am I?” I said.
Her mouth curved in that eternal smile. “Interesting.”
Her palm cupped my cheek. I could nearly taste my heartbeat. Slowly, as if I were trying to touch a wild hare, I rested my free hand on her hip, adding my weight fingertip by fingertip until I could feel the crest of her pelvis under her nightgown. Muscle and sinew shifted beneath her skin.
“If I die, help Aino,” I whispered again. For the life of me, I couldn’t say it louder. I didn’t have the breath. “Help Aino, and she will help you.”
“Aino hates me,” she replied in the same whisper. Her nose brushed mine. For a moment, I thought she would lean in, close the gap between our lips. But she seemed to be waiting for something.
“Aino does what I say. And I say you’re my consort, and everyone must obey you.”
“Everyone?” Her voice was rich and low, on the brink of laughter. Her nose slid against mine and brushed my cheek. Her lips were softer than I’d imagined, pressing first into the corner of my mouth, then against the whole of it. Her hand slid up into my hair. Suddenly, more of her was pressed against me: her knees, her stomach, her chest. I gasped against her mouth and pulled her in. Her kiss became surer. Her hand moved to my neck, brushing from my jaw to my collarbone. She smelled of sweat and cloudflower.
I didn’t know what to do.
I started to shake. First, it was my calves and thighs, but when my spine went rigid, Inkar pulled back. Her eyes were dark wells. Part of me wanted to lean in, to see how long it might take me to get to the bottom. But another part of me—
“Are you all right?” Her hand moved up to cup my cheek.
“I’m afraid.” I hadn’t realized it until I said it. But I was afraid. Afraid of tomorrow. Afraid that I’d kiss Inkar now and hate her later, and afraid that she’d hate me. And I was afraid of myself.
The curve of Inkar’s lips turned down. She shifted back, leaving a cold gap of space between us. But her hand stayed on my cheek, and her legs still curled between mine. “I will do nothing if you do not want it. Do not be afraid of me.”
I ran my thumb over the hair above her ear. It really was as soft as it looked. I leaned in and kissed her, a feathery touch of mouths before I could turn coward and freeze. “I’m not. I won’t.”
I thought she might try again. Her hand ran from my cheek to my waist and rested there. But she didn’t move in. She said, in the softest voice I’d ever heard from her: “Are you sorry you married me?”
“I’ve never once been sorry,” I replied. And though that wasn’t such an achievement for a five-day courtship, she laughed, and that was enough for me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The morning of the trial Below bloomed cold and cloudless. Aino woke me when the sun was a red fire on a smoky horizon. As I slid out of bed, Inkar stirred. “Go back to sleep,” I said, tucking my head so that Aino wouldn’t see how I blushed.
“No.” She was already sitting up. “I must be ready, too.”
“For what?” muttered Aino. She was as pale as I’d seen her the night of my haphazard coronation, and she discarded over a dozen items from my closet until she settled on a coat—velvet the color of the night sky, lined with ermine and dotted with tiny diamonds like stars. “And the white dress to go with it.”
“I’m only going to take it all off again,” I said.
Aino shot me her classic motherly glare. “You are the grand duke, and you have to look like it.” Inkar nodded in agreement.
So on went the dress, with two petticoats and a crinoline underneath. On went the coat, with a tasseled hood and velvet gloves. Aino set my braid and pinned it in a crown about my head, fixing it with studded pins and clasps. As Aino dressed me, Inkar dressed herself in the green of her father and the Emerald Order, with a vest over her black leather tunic and trousers. She pinned up her hair to mirror mine and slid my enormous sapphire ring over her gloved hand for everyone to see. Last came her axes, gleaming like sunlight solidified. I wanted to kiss the freckles on her nose, but the thought of doing it in front of Aino set my ears on fire. I settled for taking her hand.
The kennel master waited with our sled. “They’re all out there, Your Grace.” Though grand dukes made grand entrances, I still wasn’t used to them. Maybe I never would be.
There’s still a chance. To wrangle the cure out of the duke Below. To save my family from our ministers and from each other.
All of Kylma had turned out. They lined the road to the gate, their faces peering out of hoods and scarves like little moons as we drove past, solemn and silent. The sun turned everything blindingly bright. The dowager’s mansion and the hunting lodge became crystal and gold. The white wall of the city rose up, giving way to sky, as though nothing lay beyond it. And then the gates slid open, and I faced the whole world in miniature.
Every delegate had come out to see the trial, sporting their colors and packed together for warmth. My entire ministry, Reko included, stood at the edge of the moat. All of them had dressed in the family colors and held white roses. I could only hope that meant something good for me. The moat rippled, each little wave tipped in gold, and behind that stood Sigis’s army. They gleamed in red and black, brass buttons and helmets catching the sun.
“Are you ready?” Eirhan said.
I nodded. I didn’t really trust myself to speak. Inkar held me up on one side, Aino on the other. I contemplated throwing up all over the bottom of Eirhan’s coat.
“Sigis will arrive soon,” Eirhan said. “I suggest trying to look somewhat regal while you wait.”
I was beyond tired of letting Eirhan tell me what to do. One battle at a time. First, I had to win the trial Below. Then I could work on firing my prime minister.
Sigis’s army let out a roar. A thousand arms pumped in the air. A gap appeared in the lines, and Sigis swaggered through, decked in a fur robe I swore I’d last seen on Father. A beaverskin cap covered his head. Diamonds glittered on both ears and in rings on his gloved fingers. Though his sword remained sheathed, it sat in a prominent place on his hip, and his hand lingered there before he raised it to the swelling of the crowd. His cruel smile played about his lips as he looked around, until, at last, his eyes found their target: me. The smile fixed, broadened, and then his hand sliced through the air. The noise cut to silence.
I curled my lip. Your army doesn’t scare me. If I thought it vehemently enough, I might even believe it. But it didn’t matter how much Sigis showed off now. I had to defeat him, not his thousand men.
The bridge lowered, and Sigis strode across. He walked right up to me, moving in until he knew I was uncomfortable. Inkar put herself between us. He laughed.