With skilled hands, Navan took us up into the skies above Vysanthe. A city lay below, enclosed between the towering walls of several mountains, though there were buildings carved into every inch of the mountainside, their lights glowing like fireflies in the near distance. Houses and structures of all shapes and sizes were crammed into the mountains’ shadow, huddled together like penguins, but every single one was sculpted in the same unusual style. I couldn’t tell whether it was beautiful or not—the lines were so severe, the colors so uniform. Sharply sloping roofs glinted with black tiles, each one decorated with a silver weathervane that depicted a different creature.

At the far end of the city itself, where the edges of two mountain ranges met, was an enormous gulley, with two gigantic figures carved into the rock, protecting the entrance to the huge city. One was female, the other male, their hands extended upward, seemingly in worship. There were crowns atop their heads, made from what looked like pure gold, that gleamed in the pale sunlight of Vysanthe.

“What city is this?” I asked, awestruck. “And who are they?”

“This is Regium—it’s the royal district,” Navan replied, evidently less impressed by a sight he’d seen countless times before. “And those two are the old king and queen—Queen Gianne’s parents. Talk about overkill,” he muttered, allowing the Snapper to swoop low over a series of ancient-looking buildings, their silver spires glistening with jewels that resembled rubies, drawing my eye like I was a magpie.

“I think they’re beautiful,” I said.

“You wouldn’t if you knew how many people died to build them,” he countered, and I grimaced, their beauty fading somewhat.

“What’s that?” I asked, wanting to change the subject. I pointed through the windscreen at the ancient buildings, with their twisting spires, curved walls, and rounded windows. It reminded me of pictures I’d seen of the architect Gaudí’s work, in Barcelona, back on Earth, and it gave me a pang of homesickness.

“That’s the university—I used to study there,” he replied. “It’s got one of the best libraries in the universe. Maybe we’ll find some time to look around.”

I smiled, wondering if there were books in there that could tell me about all these weird and wonderful species that kept crossing my path. I wanted to know all there was to know about the universe, until I knew as much as Navan. Still, time was precious, and there was so much we had to do.

“We should start gathering intel for Orion,” I said. “Who knows when we might get a chance like this again.”

Navan nodded. “We should go to the Observatory first, see what we can find out there.”

He swerved the ship around, heading away from the worshipping figures of the old king and queen. I couldn’t take my eyes off the city below. Every so often, the crowded buildings would give way to an expanse of open space, possibly a town square or what might have been a pleasant park, had the greenery not been so dark and gloomy. The trees were barely holding on to their curling leaves. Here, coldbloods walked, carrying on with their everyday lives.

I saw restaurants and cafés, with elegantly dressed Vysantheans sitting at tables outside, despite the freezing temperatures, sipping from various vials. Though I couldn’t hear them all the way up here, I could see the telltale expression of laughter from time to time, and the animated gestures of intense discussion. If I squinted hard enough, I could just about pretend they were human.

And then the city gave way to a steeply rising rockface, though the houses were crammed right up against the sheer incline. We rushed upward, the pull of gravity making my body feel heavy, before swooping up and over the snowy peak of a jagged mountain. On the other side, the Snapper descended toward a building that lay nestled on a broad ledge, looking over a black lake that lashed against the slippery cliffs below. The Observatory was enormous, its walls seemingly made from pure crystal. From where we were hovering, I could see people milling around inside.

Navan landed the Snapper outside, in a designated parking zone, before we exited the ship. I wrapped the fur coat tight around me, grateful for its warmth as the brutal winds hurtled against me, nearly knocking me off my feet. Navan held me fast, stopping me from falling.

Within a few moments, we were inside the relative warmth of the Observatory. It was a strange building, looking remarkably high-tech, with monitors showing countless regions of Vysanthe flashing up every few seconds. I knew it was Vysanthe because I recognized the cathedral building where we had met Queen Gianne, followed by the ruby-encrusted spires of the university building. There were many other places I didn’t recognize, belonging to different Vysanthean districts, with a number of coldbloods monitoring the images that flashed up.

“This way,” Navan said quietly, moving off to a vacant space around the perimeter of the crystal building. I followed him, surprised by the amount of attention he was getting. At least five coldbloods had said a warm “hello” to him in the five minutes we’d been inside the Observatory, and he had politely waved back and asked after their families. I just hoped he wasn’t attracting too much attention. We were supposed to be acting covertly, after all.

As Navan seated himself at a desk, a young coldblood wandered over. He was younger than Navan, with dark brown hair and eager blue eyes. For a moment, he just hovered close to where Navan was sitting, hopping anxiously from foot to foot. I wasn’t sure he even saw me.

“Navan Idrax?” the coldblood asked tentatively.

Navan turned. “Yes?”

“Vasily Smail, at your service,” he gushed.

Navan suppressed a smile. “You know anything about recent breaches in the queendom?” he asked. “I am curious to know about even the slightest chink in security. Now that I’m back, I’m serving as an advisor to the queen—and you must understand, this is all top secret. You are not to breathe a word of this to anyone. If you do, the queen will be most upset.”

Vasily’s eyes went wide with awe. “Of course, sir. I’ll bring you a copy of the transcripts from the last week or so,” he said, excitement bristling from him. I almost felt bad for him—this boy was clearly a big fan of Navan’s, and Navan was using that against him. Still, if it meant we got to go home again, I wasn’t exactly against a bit of harmless manipulation.

“Thank you, Vasily,” Navan replied. The boy looked like he might faint at the sound of his name coming from Navan’s lips.

As Vasily hurried away, I made a tutting sound in Navan’s direction. “Poor kid,” I murmured, half teasing.

“He’s too weak,” Navan muttered sympathetically. “Coldbloods like him don’t last long anywhere.”

I shuddered, wondering what that meant. Everything about Vysanthe felt Spartan. It was all about strength, and violence, and brutality. Lazar had been right—it held a savage beauty, but it was more savage than beautiful.

When Vasily returned with a small, circular disc, Navan thanked him, leaving him to watch with hopeful eyes as we departed the Observatory and returned to the Snapper. I turned and gave Vasily a delicate wave of goodbye, but the boy’s face twisted up in disgust as he saw it. It seemed few coldbloods were immune to the Vysanthean superiority complex, even if they were the runts of the litter.

“What’s on the disc?” I asked.

“Any breaches from the last couple of weeks,” Navan replied, pocketing it as we re-entered the Snapper and took off. “There should be a decent amount of information on here for Orion. I just need to find a way of sending it to him without alerting any security.”

“Can you do that?” I wondered, deeply concerned.

Navan nodded and took us back over the lip of the mountain peak. “I’ve got tech in my old place which I can use to transmit to Orion. Before we go there, though, I’d like you to see a few more things. Might as well use the chance we’ve got,” he said, giving me a smile.

“Where to first?” I asked, grinning.

“How about… the palace?”

“Sounds good,” I said, leaning back in my seat, watching the city sweep away below me.

A short while later, we drew up in front of the most exquisite building I had ever seen in my life. Twisting towers and glinting pinnacles rose up, almost as tall as the mountain that surrounded them, every single one drenched in sparkling diamonds. Where the walls of the university had been curved and strange, this building was sharp, every edge and contour cut with precision. Glittering balconies edged out every so often, with dark trees and brooding blooms sitting out, absorbing the Vysanthean sun’s cold light. The palace looked as though it had been carved from ice, like something torn from the pages of a dark fairytale.

It certainly suited the cutting demeanor of Queen Gianne. Yes, I imagined she felt right at home within a place like this.

“It’s quite something, right?” Navan said.

I nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You ready to see something else?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from the compelling, frosted walls of the palace.

“What else have you got up your sleeve?” It would take a lot to top this.

He took me to all of his old haunts, dropping the Snapper down wherever he wanted me to take a closer look at something from his past. We passed through a number of districts, though we never stopped at the place Queen Gianne had suggested—Plentha, the district where his family apparently lived. I could tell he was actively avoiding them after the way he’d violently disconnected the call the previous night. That was something I understood. Sometimes, parents just weren’t the people you wanted to see.

He took me to a winding river with a beautifully carved bridge crossing it. Underneath, meandering below the surface, were vivid silver fish with eyes that bulged out of their heads, their skeletons visible beneath the translucent flesh of their bodies. They were eerie and striking, all in one. Navan seemed pleased by them.

“We used to feed them when we were kids,” he murmured, his eyes transfixed by the fish. I had a feeling I knew who he used to feed them with, my heart aching for him. Being home must have reminded him of so much.

After a while, we moved on, heading for a park that he used to frequent, though it was nothing like the parks I knew back home. This was barren and unwelcoming, with coldbloods walking sternly around the edges. A few were walking with creatures that looked like dogs, only these were far more ferocious. They were jet black, their eyes red and their fangs razor sharp, and their wolfish heads snapped from side to side, taking everything in. As one passed by Navan and me, my insides constricted, and I found myself half expecting it to lunge for me and tear my throat out.

“Icehounds,” Navan told me, putting a comforting arm around my shoulder. With the hood of my fur coat up around my face, it was hard to tell I wasn’t a coldblood.

Wherever we went, Navan was recognized. I hadn’t quite realized I’d fallen for such a Vysanthean celebrity. Down every street, and standing on every corner, someone would stop him and welcome him back, saying how glad they were that he had returned. How did they all know? I guessed news traveled fast when you were the son of one of the queen’s closest advisors.

“There are two more places I want you to see,” he said, as we got back into the Snapper. “They’ve shaped who I am more than anything else,” he added, a grim expression settling across his face.

A foreboding atmosphere settled across the Snapper. Navan was somber, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a determined line. Ahead, I watched the mountainous district of Regium give way to the flat plateau of Plentha—the next-door district. Here, I could see towns and villages sprawling across shadowy plains, their grouped lights glowing like will o’ the wisps, keeping weary travelers on the right path.

He landed the Snapper beside a patch of woodland that was set apart from the nearby settlements. As I stepped out of the pod, I saw a chapel up ahead. It was small but perfectly formed, with a high steeple, the structure carved from pale gray stone. All around, a graveyard flanked the chapel. Although, it wasn’t like any graveyard I’d ever seen. Instead of headstones, there were colorful orbs placed at the heads of the burial sites. Approaching one, I staggered back as a holographic image burst out of the orb, startling me. An old man played on a loop, a smile stretching his face.

Navan walked past me, heading for the farthest side of the chapel. A willow-like tree with blood-red fronds dangling down stood there, and beneath it—a single, purple orb. Navan had stopped in front of it, his shoulders tensed.

Gently, I put my arm around him, and looked down to see the face of a beautiful young woman with raven-black hair, and eyes the same color as Navan’s, staring back. She was laughing in the image, though the loop was silent. Underneath my palms, I could feel Navan trembling.

“Naya?” I asked quietly.

Navan gritted his teeth, visibly steeling himself. “She shouldn’t be in the ground,” he said hoarsely. “Look at her—she was the epitome of life. Everyone loved her. She shouldn’t be in darkness, alone in there.”

I held him tighter, feeling his whole body shake. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing the words were not enough.

“She should be with Ronad. She should be alive and happy, but instead…” He trailed off, his voice choked. “This is all my father’s fault. His sick desire to pair us all off, damning anyone’s actual feelings!”

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just held him, feeling him turn toward my embrace. I held him close, letting him grip me as hard as he wanted, until the worst of it ebbed away again.

“I miss her so much,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head. The words sounded strained.

I looked up at him and recognized the twist of guilt on his face. “You’re not responsible for what happened to her, Navan,” I said softly. “It hurts, and it will always hurt, but you can’t hold yourself accountable. This is on your father, not you.”

“I just wish she was here instead of me.” He heaved a sigh, swiping roughly at his eyes. “She’d have loved you.” A small smile crept onto his lips then, and I sensed the worst of it had passed. I couldn’t begin to understand the loss he felt, but I wanted to be there to help him through it.

“I’m sure I’d have loved her too,” I replied, knowing it to be true. This girl looked like she had been a firecracker, sputtered out long before her time. The silence of the hologram was frustrating—I would have loved to have heard her voice, just once.

“I’ve got one more place to take you to,” Navan said finally, taking my hand and drawing away from Naya’s grave, though his eyes lingered on the hologram of her face. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but I feel you ought to see it.”

Around us, the light had dimmed considerably, and the cold sun was making its descent behind the mountains, ushering in the bitter Vysanthean night. Navan had warned me that the days were short on this planet, and when night did come, not even the fur coat would protect me from the freezing temperatures. Coldbloods could endure it, but humans could not.

With so little time before sunset, I could only wonder where he was taking me.