“Of course,” I say tightly. “I’m just surprised by how quickly you made the journey.”
“Not all ships float,” Yukiko says. “Some prefer to fly.”
Her voice is unduly self-assured, and unlike Lira’s there’s nothing I enjoy about her brand of arrogance. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and settle for a curt nod of understanding.
Págese airships are some of the best in the hundred kingdoms. They vary from the bullets – darting balloons with barely enough room for half a dozen passengers – to lavish ships that are opulent enough to be dubbed floating palaces. They have at least eight separate rotors and span up to three floors, depending on the cargo or, more often than not, the social standing of the passengers.
The Págese have always been on good terms with the Efévresic, who birth the world’s greatest inventions. They’re a kingdom at the forefront of nearly every technological triumph, and there’s rarely an invention today that can’t trace its origin back to Efévresi. Págos has been their ally for so long now that it doesn’t even matter if they exist at opposite ends of the world. There’s seldom anything stronger than two kingdoms drawn together by a decades-old marriage alliance. It means that Págos is privy to many of the technological advancements that Efévresi has, and so they’re one of the few kingdoms with the means to confine most of their travel to air rather than sea. For the rest of the hundred kingdoms, airships tend to be unreliable. Malfunctions are not uncommon, and unless the journey spans longer than a month, it’s more trouble than it’s worth.
“You’re the princess?” Lira asks.
As much as her contempt for everyone around her usually entertains me, I send Lira a pointed look, warning her not to say anything out of line. But she either doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care. I can guess which one is more likely.
Yukiko nods. “I didn’t realize the prince was recruiting new members for the Saad.”
“Oh, I’m not a recruit,” Lira says. “I’m just here to kill him.” She stares pointedly at the princess. “And anyone else who gets in my way.”
Kye makes a poor attempt to muffle the sound of his laughter with the back of his hand.
I snap my gaze to Lira and clench my teeth. Has the cold gone to her head, or is she so used to our rapport that she thinks it can be the same with every royal? I try to catch her attention, but she’s fixated on Yukiko.
Her eyes are as cold as the wind.
“She’s joking,” I say, pushing Lira behind me. “And probably drunk.”
Lira scoffs and I squeeze my hand across her waist to silence her.
“Pay no attention to my crew,” I say, giving the king a blithe smile. “When the food runs low, they tend to live off the rum.”
King Kazue dismisses the comment with a laugh, though it’s every bit as precise as his military stance. Beside him, Yukiko eyes my hand on Lira’s waist.
“There are more important things to discuss,” Kazue says. “Come, we must talk at the palace, away from the teeth of our weather. From what my sister has told me, there is a rather interesting bargain to be struck.”
AFTER BEING SHOWN TO our guest chambers and given enough food to put Torik’s mood to rest, I’m escorted to the grand hall. At the request of King Kazue, I’m alone, and yet there are seven guards who walk in step behind me as the royal concierge leads the way. I took it as a compliment when they came to fetch me from my new chambers, armed to the teeth with spears that looked like they may have actually been made from teeth. It’s almost a testament to my reputation that they trust me so little.
The grand hall hides behind a set of iceberg doors that must be rotated via wheel mechanism. The cogs make an unreasonable amount of noise as they heave the great doors open to reveal the chamber inside. It’s not a large space, but everything about it is grand and opulent. Chandeliers drip down in frozen teardrops, and icicles sprout up from the solid ice floor like weeds. I step on it, half-expecting to land with my legs in the air, but the surface is surprisingly dry under my feet.
The five siblings of Págos eye me from their thrones. Each of them is dressed in black finery that seeps from them like oil. From behind their lavish seats, there is a single window clawed with blue frost. It creeps across the pane like a flower, obscuring the last few minutes of sunshine that could penetrate the cavern.
“I trust your rooms are satisfactory,” King Kazue says. “I must admit, I’m glad your crew is a little more downsized. A hundred pirates is enough; I dread to think what having an entire legion in my palace would be like.”