Page 16

The driver closes the trunk and moves toward the rear door. Valerie starts in the same direction, but I reach it first and place a hand at the small of her back to guide her around the wet curb.

The contact is light and entirely unnecessary. That makes me notice it more than I should.

Valerie doesn’t pull away. For the briefest moment, she leans into my palm before stepping into the car. I let my hand fall without deciding whether she meant to do it or not.

5

Just Rocks

Valerie & Sigurd

The cabin floor vibrates with the steady hum of the jet engines as the city disappears beneath a blanket of cloud. Everything around me has been built on a scale that still takes some getting used to. The ceiling arches high above my head, all to accommodate the towering wingspans and colossal bulk of the billionaire elite. I sit swallowed by one of the oversized armchairs, clutching a mug of dark-roast coffee just to keep my hands occupied.

Across the aisle, Sigurd looks perfectly at home. He removed his tailored suit jacket twenty minutes after takeoff and now sits reading the financial section of a broadsheet newspaper. Apparently, even billionaire krakens still read the morning paper.

The white fabric of his dress shirt pulls taut across his shoulders. His tentacles rest loosely against the back of the chair, familiar enough by now that the sight itself shouldn’t distract me. Unfortunately, yesterday one of them wrapped around my waist. The memory of exactly how that felt is proving considerably harder to ignore.

Stop staring at him. You’re flying into a political minefield, not a vacation. I raise the mug to my mouth and take another swallow of coffee, searching for a focus that simply refuses to come.

The newspaper rustles across the aisle. Sigurd lowers the top edge of the financial section, his glowing blue eyes settling on me.

“You’ve been quiet since we breached thirty thousand feet,” he says. “Is the coffee inadequate?”

“The coffee is fine.” I set the mug on the polished wood of the center console before my nervous hands turn it into a laundry problem. “I’m just reviewing the itinerary.”

Sigurd folds the paper in half, the crease snapping sharply.

Saltweather already felt far away while I was staying in the city. Up here, headed toward a floating mountain I’ve only ever read about, it feels farther still. Whatever happens at Mt. Qaf, Sigurd is the one person besides me who actually knows what I’ve agreed to walk into.

“So. Your mother.” I curl my fingers around the leather armrest. “If she asks about my background, do I lie?”

“You being a human librarian won’t be a problem. As for the rest, use the story of how we met.” Sigurd leans forward and sets the folded newspaper aside. “She’ll hate it, but she values protocol too much to cause a scene at Rakan’s wedding. Stay polite, answer what you can, and don’t let her provoke you.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you might think, Sigurd.”

“I have the utmost faith in you, Valerie,” he replies. “You’ll be fine.”

I’m not nearly as certain. Facing him in his office was easier. I was furious then, armed with evidence and too angry to wonder whether I belonged in a billionaire’s corporate tower. Mt. Qaf is different. I’m about to spend a weekend surrounded by monster moguls while pretending I belong at Sigurd’s side.

Still, I didn’t come this far because I expected any of this to be comfortable. I came because Saltweather needs me to see it through. A floating mountain and a kraken matriarch don’t change that.

Half an hour later, the jet touches down with a dull vibration beneath my feet. By the time the flight attendant unseals the cabin door, I’ve convinced myself I’m prepared for Mt. Qaf. Then I step outside and discover preparation was optimistic.

The high-altitude air hits first, thin and cold enough to sting the inside of my nose. Morning sunlight flashes off the surface below us so sharply that I have to squint. The private airfield has been carved directly into the mountain. Its broad landing strips and polished emerald terraces throw green light across everything they touch.

Beyond the runway, the mountain rises into an impossible skyline of towers, arches, hanging gardens, and suspended bridges. I’ve seen drawings of Mt. Qaf in old books, most of them speculative and several centuries out of date, but none of them come close. I tighten my hand around the metal railing as I take it all in.

Saltweather is weathered brick, rusted iron, and fishing boats patched often enough to work. Mt. Qaf looks as though someone built an entire city without even considering cost as a factor.

Sigurd steps onto the platform behind me. “Take your time on the stairs. The altitude catches humans faster than most monsters.”

“Good to know before I embarrass myself in front of an international guest list.”

“If you faint, I’ll catch you.”

I look back at him, but his expression remains perfectly serious. “That was almost reassuring.”

“It was intended to be.”