~ Chapter 8 ~

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Let's get into it.

First Person - Y/n

Nikolai gave orders to the waiting dockworkers for repairs and then led our ragged, wide-eyed band to a doorway in the rock.

"Everybody in," he said.

Confused, we crowded into the little rectangular room. The walls looked like they were made of iron. Nikolai pulled a gate closed across the entry.

"You're on my foot," Zoya complained grumpily, but we were all wedged in so tightly it was hard to tell who she was angry at.

"What is this?" I asked.

Nikolai dropped a lever, and we let loose a collective scream as the room shot upward, taking my stomach with it.

We jolted to a halt. My gut slammed back down to my shoes, and the gate slid open.

Nikolai stepped out, doubled over with laughter, and said, "I never tire of that."

"I will kill you," I snapped and he raised his hands in surrender.

We piled out of the box as fast as we could—all except for David, who lingered to fiddle with the lever mechanism.

"Careful there," Nikolai called. "The trip down is bumpier than the trip up."

Genya took David's arm and yanked him clear.

"Saints," I swore. "I forgot how often I want to stab you."

"Is it still as often as you want to kiss me?" asked Nikolai and I laughed. "Ah, I haven't lost my touch."

"Please tell me there are stairs," I replied, "I'd rather set up permanent house here than ever get back in that thing."

"Of course there are stairs, but they're less entertaining. And once you've dragged yourself up and down four flights of them enough, you'll find you're far more open-minded."

"And plus," continued Nikolai, "It is a very private place for certain adventures."

"Really? An elevator?" I asked smiling.

Nikolai just winked before he interlocked our hands and began to walk me around the room.

It was the biggest room I'd ever been in—twice, maybe three times as wide and as tall as the domed hall in the Little Palace. It wasn't even a room, I realized. We were standing at the top of a hollowed-out mountain.

Now I understood what I had seen as we approached aboard the Pelican. The frost fingers were actually enormous bronze columns cast in the shapes of people and creatures.

They towered above us, bracketing huge panels of glass that looked out on the ocean of cloud below. The glass was so clear that it gave the space an eerie sense of openness, as if a wind might blow through and send me tumbling into the nothingness beyond. My heart started to hammer.

"Deep breaths," Nikolai said. "It can be overwhelming at first."

The room was teeming with people. Some bunched in groups where drafting tables and bits of machinery had been set up.

Others were marking crates of supplies in a kind of makeshift warehouse. Another area had been set aside for training; soldiers sparred with dulled swords while others summoned Squaller winds or cast Inferni flame.

Through the glass, I saw terraces protruding in four directions, giant spikes like compass points—north, south, east, west. Two had been set aside for target practice. It was hard not to compare it to the damp, cloistered caverns of the White Cathedral.

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