Kalórin’s night roared with the sound of panicked men.

  Kayode heard it all from the back of the post office—the sprinting boots, the shouted orders, the snap of Levy prongs clamping around resisting necks, and the static crackle of electricity as numbers were burned into skin.

  In the last Loop, it had been him being caught, branded.

  This Loop, he stayed far from it, watching from the shadows. And he would do the same the next night, and the night after that, until he got a response from Lami.

  Now all Kayode could do was wait. And wait he would.

  “By the Ancestors, I do not believe my eyes,” the shadows next to Kayode themselves spoke.

  Winter’s Teeth!

  The shard went flying into the dark, and Kayode heard it shatter. Like glass against a wall.

  “Who’s there?!” Kayode growled.

  “That actually hurt, you know?” the darkness replied, sounding distracted.

  Then the shadows themselves seemed to draw back like a veil, revealing a man whose features spoke of a rare unity. His skin was dark like Kayode’s, yet washed pale in an almost inhuman way. His eyes were a rich brown, his hair a vivid blue. His ears were thin and sharp like an Elf’s—though only half as long.

  A half-elf.

  And one of his parents had been Ayédán.

  He wore a cloak and a hood as dark as the night itself, and Kayode saw thin runic lines engraved into the material, betraying the fact that it was a Relic. And from the quality of its make, certainly not a cheap one.

  The halfbreed wore shock across his features, eyes on Kayode as if looking through him and into the very substance of his being. He caught himself. “Ah, yes, where are my manners?” he smiled and then bowed. “Great Lord Balógun, Xirio Wispapholk at your service,”

  Kayode did not shake it. “Who are you?” he pressed.

  The man pulled his hand back casually. “I was the closest person in the area,” Xirio told him. “So I was told to come get you.”

  “By Lami?” Kayode asked.

  Xirio shook his head. “No. By the Duchess Gimba—her mother.” And then something flashed behind his eyes and he was looking at Kayode with awe again. “The Kingdom Maker itself…things are truly about to get interesting…” he grinned. And that let Kayode know he had some form of Class seeing Skill—he’d suspected, or maybe more ‘feared’ that such a thing was possible. He’d even heard of them whispered about in the odd rumour, though nobody important enough to prove anything about their existence had ever given him the time of day. Now he knew. Then Xirio turned around and began walking out of the alleyway. “Follow me if you’d rather not get pressganged.”

  Kayode hesitated only a moment—then stepped out of the shadows, leaving the post office and the night behind him.

  ###

  There was something surreal about walking with Xirio. Around them, soldiers dragged men and women from the streets, chasing down anyone who looked even half fit for military service.

  And yet not one soldier—man, woman, or even child—turned their gaze toward Kayode or the half-elf. It was almost as if they were invisible. Only Almost though.

  Because the people sprinting through the streets went out of their way to avoid them, swerving at the last moment, flinching as if they sensed something they could not see.

  “It’s a perception bubble,” Xirio grinned proudly. “They know we’re here, but in the same way you might be aware of a pole standing in the middle of the road. Actually, no hold on it’s not like that at all because you don’t passively avoid noticing a pothole with all your will…um…ah! It’s like a homeless person in the middle of the road!”

  Interesting.

  “And you used a Skill similar to this on me while we were behind the post office?

  Xirio nodded proudly, and then added, cautioning. “Just don’t go around punching people in the face and we should be fine.”

  It seemed the System did not count this as Mind Control, otherwise Vessel of Stone would have let him see through it. An illusion then. Kayode decided to add that to the list of things to look out for.

  They soon reached the docks, where the air was thick with the stench of fish and sweat no matter where they turned. Xirio pointed to a ship across from them—sleek and brown, and not making any direct contact with the sea. It hovered just above the water, bobbing gently as if balanced on an invisible string. “That’s ours,” he told Kayode with an almost giddy excitement.

  A Driftship.

  “Have you ever been in one?” Xirio asked, perhaps seeing Kayode’s reaction.

  Kayode shook his head. “Could never afford to.”

  Xirio smiled. “Oh, you’ll love it.”

  ###

  Kayode was puking overboard.

  The wind was roaring.

  Xirio was laughing. “Travelling across the Kingdom on a ship with the myth by which all myths are measured! Oh the stories I’m going to tell!”

  Like Skyships, driftships were a feat of magical engineering—more mass-producible than their cloud-soaring daughters. They were the stuff of the Kingdom: the backbone of its military, and a key reason Velúndé was so dominant.

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  It still fucking sucked to be on one—bouncy, uneven, rough. A craft that seemed precisely engineered to be the most nausea-inducing vehicle Kayode had ever had the displeasure of standing on.

  He wiped the vomit off of his lips.

  “Oh, don’t make that face,” Xirio said. “You’ll get used to it. Especially with all the other things you’re going to be getting up to.”

  “I think I’ll go get some sleep,” Kayode replied, and headed off.

  And sleep thankfully came quickly enough.

  ###

  “We’re here!” Xirio announced.

  Kayode awoke to see the man standing on his bed, grinning from ear to ear. He did not bother asking how the halfbreed had gotten into his quarters.

  He rolled to his feet, joints stiff, and groaned.

  Xirio was already out the door, rushing up the stairs.

  Kayode followed and emerged into daylight.

  The ship was still moving—but where Kayode had once seen sea stretching to the horizon, a mountain world now rose to meet them. Stone and snow climbed together, the land folding upward into cold, jagged heights. White dusted the slopes and roofs alike, softening the hard lines beneath.

  It was not his first time seeing Karsūna; It did not take long for a Blighted in search of a cure to find the capital of the Qarsan Duchy.

  Just like he had then, today he was arriving with hope. Kayode was yet to see if, like before, it would be crushed.

  Smoke rose from hundreds of chimneys, dark threads drifting into the pale sky—signs of life clinging stubbornly to the cold.

  The stories said that House Gimba chose the mountains because it allowed them to see all the secrets of the world. It was those very same secrets that once allowed them to hold the crown for three generations straight. A streak officially broken by the now late King Seyi’s coronation. But it truly ended when Kayode's father beheaded King Yaro Yusuf Gimba—the Duchess’ husband.

  “You look… uneasy,” Xirio hummed. “Is it because your father brutally murdered the Duchess’ husband, and now you find yourself in the domain of a Cryomancer of the Tenth Awakening with cause to hate you?”

  Kayode frowned. “Something like that, yes,” he admitted with a sigh.

  Xirio laughed and patted him on the back. “Relax! If the Duchess wanted you dead, I would have already killed you.” He paused, then frowned. “Unless she intends to do it herself. Slowly. In an unimaginably painful manner. Possibly taking days. Weeks. Months.”

  He considered it a moment longer. “…Years.”

  “...”

  “Ooop, we’re here!” Xirio beamed.

  And the vehicle lurched to a halt.

  ###

  The Ducal Palace Sarauta had been built—or at the very least renovated—by someone who knew the ins and outs of Asoburgh well.

  Its great passages followed the same long, winding logic: corridors twisting and curving in deliberate, disorienting patterns, seemingly designed to unsettle visitors and residents alike. The walls were lined with familiar Ayédán motifs, symbols whose meanings scholars and historians still argued over, with no consensus ever quite reached.

  Kayode imagined it was one of the three Monarchs—likely one who had grown up in Kalórin—who was responsible for the renovation. They likely wanted visits to their motherland to feel like a home away from home.

  It was, however, far from a perfect recreation. The winding corridors were less smooth, less organic, less wide; for nothing in the world could truly replicate Asoburgh’s structure. Walking through the royal palace there felt like moving through the veins of some ancient being, and not being able to shake the sneaking suspicion that it was aware of your presence within it. And watching you.

  Walking here felt like an imitation of that life created by a truly talented artist.

  If he had to guess, he would say that the reason this place felt even this close to the original was largely due to the fact that Sarauta itself was built during the time of the Kingdom Maker.

  “Just beyond is history,” Xirio said, walking next to him.

  Ahead of them loomed a massive great door of ancient metal, soft prismatic light coursing through its veins like blood under beaten skin. Forged into its form was the symbol of a cowry shell. The symbol of House Gimba—a relic from when it was a house of trade rather than secrets.

  In front of the armored individuals, faces hidden behind visors, chest plates emblazoned with the symbol of a snake coiled around a heart. Oathguards. They tensed at the sight of Kayode.

  Xirio flashed them a gesture.

  The Oathguards relaxed at it.

  They were soon at the door. Xirio pushed it open, and gestured to Kayode to enter. He did.

  The ducal hall was vast. Its walls rose high and wide, draped in deep purple banners displaying the image of a shell. The floor and ceiling were worked from ancient marble, veins of color running through stones of a sort that no one living could name. Gemstones worth a marquisate were set into the architecture.

  At the hall’s center stood a single, imposing seat.

  And upon it sat the most powerful woman in the world.

  Kayode, no stranger to custom, got on one knee and bowed. “Great Lady Duchess Ladi Khadija Gimba, Leader of the Great House of Gimba,” he said evenly.

  “I, Great Lord Kayode Nathaniel Balógun, Leader of the Great House of Balógun, am honoured to be received, and grateful for your hospitality.”

  The Duchess Gimba looked very much like her daughter: same deep, dark skin, same purple northern Ayédán wears, same delicate beauty—though hers was of a more aged kind—and the same sharp eyes.

  “So this is the man?” she asked, not even looking at him, eyes on Xirio.

  “He is, your Grace. The Kingdom Maker, I checked. And I was pleased with the results,” Xirio replied, voice formal where it was once playful. “Kingdom Maker Class, Second Awakening.”

  Right, Gimba probably hadn’t told Xirio what to look for in case he had cause to lie about Kayode’s Class. A bit paranoid, but not a bad precaution.

  Wordlessly, the Duchess’ eyes flicked to Kayode.

  [Skill: Numb Mind — Negated by Vessel of Stone III.]

  [Skill: Frozen Terror — Negated by Vessel of Stone III.]

  [Skill: White Charm — Negated by Vessel of Stone III.]

  Vicious old cunt aren’t you.

  The Duchess raised an eyebrow. Not shocked, not amused, just cataloguing new information and sequestering it away for later consideration.

  “You have a Class that many, myself included, had long since dismissed as a fable, boy,” she told him. “And I am sure that its Substance, lying beneath your veins, has made you hungry for power. Hungry for the throne. But power is a dangerous thing in the hands of those who grew up without it. So tell me, young Balógun—why should I make you into my King? Your father not only killed my beloved, but your blood has proven to be of the unstable kind. Why entrust the Kingdom to a future drunk? Why give my daughter to one who might one day beat her to death. What can you give me to make this gamble worth my time and blood?”

  She was trying to own him. Like the Grand Duke did. Like Okechukwu did, But Kayode was done being owned. All of Velúndé was one man trying to own the other. Kayode would probably never change that, not if he became King now and reigned for ninety more loops.

  But he was done being at the bottom of that ladder. There would be no more chains on him.

  Lami had made it all but clear that their marriage was going to be a certain thing in the last Loop. And the reason was because of one unequivocal fact. “I am the Kingdom Maker,” he told Gimba, eyes hard. “I am the best investment you will or could ever make. Xirio has told you this. But if you need further confirmation I’ll wait while you fetch your A Tier Class Identifier Stone.”

  Now there was a flash of surprise in the woman’s eyes. “How did y—” she caught herself, then frowned. “Speak to me out of turn again, and you have lost your greatest patron.”

  “Speak to me out of turn again and you would have lost your best chance at the throne,” Kayode warned her back.

  He would restart this Loop again if he needed to. But under no circumstance was this going to be anything like the last.

  Silence hung between them like a noose. Kayode well aware she could kill him, and the Duchess far more aware that she would be killing her golden goose.

  “Xirio,” she called, eyes locked on Kayode as she spoke.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” the half-breed replied.

  “Tell Lami I have a new Fiancé for her.”