As The World Catches Fire

Chapter 4: New Management

Andiya could hardly stand. Yulia and I kept our distance as she wobbled on her feet, her face pulled with strain. I didn't ask if she needed help. Her fury already told me she wouldn't accept it.

Andiya staggered after us as we left the interrogation room. Just outside, a line of Eons blocked our way.

"Her Majesty requires your presence," said the Eon with the orange braid and bear-like Bestial. Unlike the other Eons, I realized that she had two maroon dots under each eye, rather than one. So she was the Eon commander. Hadrion, if I remembered correctly. Chains clinked in her hand. "Restrain your daemon."

"That's not necessary," I replied.

"I did not ask your opinion on the matter." Hadrion swept past me and clamped the irons around Andiya's wrists. Andiya swayed on her feet, and a low burn stung my own skin.

"Follow."

The Eons led us down a central hall towards the new archon's quarters. We arrived at a set of silver doors etched with the Canavar history: a longship heralding when humans arrived on the continent, scenes of righteous conquest over the daemons, and new human cities built from felled greatwood trees.

"Her Majesty is waiting," said Hadrion. As Yulia tried to ender, Hadrion grabbed her arm. "Rozin Kain and the High Order only." The door slammed behind me.

I hung at the entrance. I had never been somewhere so wealthy in my life. The first room had walls of white stone and floors of dark wood, silvery silk curtains hanging from the windows. A great fire roared in an iron brazier, surrounded by seats of blown glass. In a lavish octagon sitting area, furs were thrown over sofas and living chairs, and behind them, tall shelves held thousands of leather-bound books. But the real centrepiece of the room was the ceiling: made completely of pale blue ice, and carved with life-size wolves that seemed to run across it as though they were real. The cut mountains behind them wavered like a mirage, lit by green and blue streaks of light that wove between them in an aurora.

"Take a seat," called a cold voice from one of the connected archways.

We took places on the sofas, Andiya beside me. She seemed to wilt with exhaustion as she sat, her wounds still weeping grey smoke.

I kept on my guard. No one entered the archon's chambers but their most trusted. Why would the princess call a High Order here, when it had murdered father not hours ago?

"A true High Order, they say," said the voice again, and Princess Irina Volkov stepped into the room. "I had to see it for myself."

Up close, her beauty was heart-stopping. But it was not a kind, soft beauty—but razor sharp, stretched tight over high cheekbones and an angled jaw. She was in white furs and a long samite gown, the jewels on her diadem, ears, and hands glittering against the fire. Princess Irina seemed barely older than Yulia and I, but her eyes were lit with a cunning that spoke of someone twice her age.

"The daemon is looking worse for wear," Irina said. "Seylas's work, was it? He never did know when to stop."

Andiya's disgust rattled the bond. I looked at her in warning. "Remember what I promised you," I whispered. Her nostrils flared in anger, but she didn't make any move to lunge.

"I bid you welcome, Rozin Kain," said Irina. She took a seat across from me, crossing her legs casually. She smiled without a hint of warmth.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," I managed to croak.

Irina's icy blue eyes examined Andiya head to toe. I waited in terse silence, Irina's fingers tapping on her thigh.

My throat went dry. "Your Majesty," I blurted. "I'm sorry. I failed your father. I failed you, Your Majesty. I will take whatever punishment—"