“Sometimes.” In truth, it made me uncomfortable to repress my heat, and it was tiresome to continually fail. “But it hardly matters now. With Arcus on the throne, Firebloods are no longer forced to hide their heritage.”
Not that any Firebloods were left in Tempesia, aside from me. I’d hoped some had survived Rasmus’s raids, but despite Arcus’s efforts to coax them out of hiding, none had been found yet.
“You will have to be more diligent than that,” Brother Thistle admonished.
His censure always put me on the defensive. “I’ll never be a Frostblood, icily perfect with my emotions buried under mountains of restraint. Sorry to disappoint.”
“You don’t need to deny your gift. But neither do you have to remind the court of your opposing nature at every opportunity.”
The comment stung. Brother Thistle had been one of the very few people who had always accepted me. “No matter what I do, they’ll never forget what I am.”
Idly, I made twin flames sprout like wings from my open palms, then pushed my hands together, extinguishing them.
Returning his attention to his book, he asked, “What has upset you?”
Perversely, the fact that he read me so easily made me reluctant to admit to it. “Besides living in an ice castle that’s warmer than its inhabitants? Besides my very presence making it difficult for Arcus to keep his court loyal?”
He gave me a swift glance. “You are pale. Have you had another vision?”
He was too observant. “This one was… disturbing.”
I related the details and watched his brows rise in surprise as I told him that I’d recognized myself as the queen on the throne.
“Well, what do you think?” I asked with forced lightness. “Prophecy or madness?”
His fingers drummed the table. “I considered the possibility that Sage is sending you visions to warn or guide you, as we now believe she did before—when you were lost in the blizzard near Forwind Abbey, and when you needed help to fight off possession by the curse.”
“Warn me?” My voice was a little higher than I’d intended. “But I thought Sage was prevented by the gods from sharing her prophecies.”
The woman known as Sage was a healer who had nursed the goddess Cirrus back to health after she exhausted herself creating the Gate of Light and two sentinels to guard it. In thanks, Cirrus had given Sage the sun-drenched crystal used to create the Gate. The light from the crystal flowed into Sage’s veins, gifting her with a long life and the ability to see the future—knowledge she’d been forbidden by Cirrus from sharing.
Brother Thistle patted my hand, a reassuring gesture that nevertheless made me jump at the shock of his cold skin. “And that is why I dismissed the idea. I now believe your visions relate to the fact that you are the only person to throw off possession by the Minax.”
I grimaced. He made it sound like I’d been fortunate. It didn’t feel like something to celebrate, especially with the Minax still out there somewhere.
“Perhaps you are open to a connection with it,” he continued, “and it can send you these images at will. Or perhaps you are seeing things it does not wish you to see: memories or dreams.”
“You think a Minax dreams?”
He opened his palms. “It is possible.”
I shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t like the idea that the Minax shared human traits. “Have you found anything about how to stop the visions?”
He cleared his throat, his demeanor clouding over with the intense look he always wore when immersed in research. “Well, Vesperillius, a scholar from the Northern Pike Mountains, claimed to be tortured by visions of the Minax after touching the frost throne. After searching for years for a cure, he went on a trip to Safra and, on the advice of a local shaman, drank the venom of a tree snake. The visions stopped immediately.”
“Lovely. I’m sure I could choke down some venom.”
“Vesperillius died three days later.”
I grimaced. “Maybe not tree snake venom, then.” I finally voiced the question I’d asked myself so many times over the past weeks. “What if I’m possessed and we don’t know it?”
He reached out and took my hand, turning it palm up so my wrist, with its fat, red vein, was on display. The vein at Brother Thistle’s wrist was equally thick, only blue. The sure sign of the Fireblood or Frostblood gift.
“You show no signs of possession,” he said. “Your veins have not changed to black, nor do you display a desire for blood or chaos.”
He said it gently, aware the trauma was still fresh. In the king’s arena, the rules of the games had forced me to kill, but the Minax’s influence had made me enjoy taking lives. I remembered with ringing clarity what it felt like—the ecstasy, the lack of fear or remorse, the temptation to let the Minax inhabit me permanently. I almost hadn’t been able to resist.
“No more than usual,” I agreed drily. “Although I have fantasized about setting Lady Blanding on fire.”
He waved a hand. “Everyone has fantasized about setting Lady Blanding on fire.”
That drew an unwilling smile.
“I did, however, find one text that suggested a way to”—he picked up a book on his left, offering it to me—“destroy the Minax.”
I immediately opened the book and shoved it onto the table to read. In my haste, I knocked a round glass paperweight onto the rug.
Brother Thistle flashed me an irritated look and bent to pick up the paperweight, a momentary lapse in his self-control causing the glass to fog with a layer of frost. “One of the prophecies of Dru suggests that, aside from their creator Eurus, only a Minax can destroy another Minax.”
Excitement sparked through my veins. This was the breakthrough we needed!
“The only other Minax that hasn’t been sealed behind the Gate of Light is in the fire throne in Sudesia. So”—I paused as the pieces fit themselves together in my mind—“we have to go there.”
“It is not that easy to travel to Sudesia. The kingdom is a labyrinth of rocky islands and narrow channels that only experienced sailors could hope to navigate. We simply don’t have that knowledge after so many years without trade between our kingdoms. And the Strait of Acodens, which is the most straightforward and safest way there, is guarded by Fireblood masters.”
“Well, aren’t there maps? Nautical charts that show a less conspicuous route?”
“Perhaps. If they survived King Rasmus’s purging of Sudesian writings from his library. Which I haven’t found evidence of yet.”
Frustration ate away at my already thin patience. “You can believe in a hundred moldering prophecies, but you can’t conceive of us finding a way to sail to another kingdom? How hard could it be?”
“Will you instruct me on sea travel now, Miss Otrera?” His patience was clearly starting to wear, too. “You have never even set foot on a ship.”
“Well, we can’t just throw up our hands and do nothing. The Minax promised to come back for me, and I don’t know… I don’t know if I can fight it off a second time.”
A tense silence followed. He knew better than to offer me false reassurance. I made sure my voice was steady before speaking again. “Arcus sent an invitation to the Fire Queen. We can ask for her help.”
Brother Thistle looked up in surprise. “I am amazed he would think of mending ties with Sudesia.” He shook his head. “Sudesians are not known for their forgiving natures. Much as you won’t want to hear it, he likely sent that messenger ship to its destruction. She would never agree. It was a gesture. No more.” He fussed with the items on the table—the paperweight, a quill, a strip of linen that marked his place in a book. “Even if we could safely travel to Sudesia, what would you do? Melt the throne in order to free the fire Minax? The prophecy says that the Child of Light will melt a cursed throne, and it made sense to me that a Fireblood was necessary for that task. But… the prophecy does not mention both thrones. We do not know if you are powerful enough to melt the fire throne.”