by Kova, Elise
She didn’t want him to sweep her into his arms and kiss her fiercely with lips that weren’t really there. She wanted to feel like he understood—like he heard her. When he remained silent, she continued.
“All I have is you, Taavin,” she whispered. “But you’re stuck with those other ninety-two versions of me, and part of you is already expecting to meet the ninety-fourth. You’ll never be with just me again.”
“You’re wrong,” he said hastily. Emotions broke through all at once. His eyebrows pinched, his lower lip quivered slightly as he spoke. His hands trembled, as if wanting to reach for her, but they remained in place. She wondered if he, too, was held by the same invisible tethers that kept her rooted to the floor. “You are the only one I am with… the only one I have ever been with.
“You consume every thought I have. There’s not a corner of my mind you don’t fill. Or—” He was before her now, toes nearly touching. So close she could feel the phantom warmth that radiated off him like magic and sunlight. Vi raised a trembling hand, resting it on his chest, feeling the simple fabrics where there had once been intricate embroidery.
“Or?” she repeated, looking up at him through her eyelashes.
“Or my heart,” he said finally. “You vex me. I have hurt you and you’ve hurt me in ways I cannot describe. And even now, I love you. I love you in a way I don’t know if I deserve.”
“You do,” she whispered. She needed him here, now. She needed this love as much as she wanted it.
“I’m not sure.” Taavin chuckled softly. The tip of his middle finger brushed against her temple. Soon his fingertips were in her hair, smoothing it away from her face, knotting in the strands at the nape of her neck.
“It’s not your decision to make.” Her head tilted upward, obliging his unspoken guidance. Her eyes dipped closed. “You’ll be hurt again,” she breathed across his lips.
“So will you.”
It wasn’t quite a kiss, but a trembling of lips brushed together. Vi pressed forward eagerly, and Taavin obliged. His arms tightened and she was swept against him.
Vi pressed her eyelids tighter together. This kiss… it wasn’t the same. She willed her mind to ignore the slight shimmer of magic, the heat of the glyph at the watch that brought him into her world, the thin barrier that couldn’t be lifted between them. She wanted to scream, and the only way she could keep the feeling contained was to smother it with his mouth.
When they pulled apart, his cheeks were lightly flushed. His fingers caressed her face.
“What should we do now that I have the sword?” Vi pulled away, flashing him a smile when she saw the confusion in his eyes at the swift change in topic.
“You still need to tell me how you got to it so swiftly.” Taavin rested his palm on the small of her back.
“Right… Well, I went to the ball just as we had discussed…”
Vi recounted the events of the morning, the attack on Fiera, and her efforts to convince Fiera to take her to the sword.
“What did you say to her, specifically?” Taavin didn’t miss when she’d glossed over that part. “Usually Fiera is far more cautious with the sword.”
“I told her I was chosen by the Mother herself to defend this world and that I need to prevent the sword from falling into the wrong hands.”
“Vi, you can’t let them know who you are and why you’re here. If the Dark Isle gains knowledge of the Champion, it could change the course of events.”
“Just how easy is it to change the course of events?” Vi asked. “If I’ve failed ninety-two times, it must not be that easy.”
He crossed his arms, a sour expression dousing his features. “You’re right. It’s not entirely easy.” Taavin sighed, bringing his hand to his forehead. “Think of time as a river, flowing along. There are three types of things you will find in that river.
“The first are leaves floating along—these are people, pulled along by the course of fate, thrown this way and that by the flow of the world around them.
“The second are stones—things that are immovable. They will happen regardless of what you do. The river runs around them, its current and pace distorted by these events.” He held up two fingers.
“So… some things can’t be changed?” Vi said quietly. Taavin nodded. “What if Raspian being set free is one of those things?”
“It’s not,” he said quickly. “Raspian being set free is a result of other actions, not an action itself.”
Vi thought about that a moment and finally hummed in agreement. Raspian was set free because of the crystal weapons being destroyed. Prevent those actions, and he wouldn’t be freed.
“And the third thing in the river?” she asked.
“You—the dams and floodgates you create to guide the currents. The few locations where the river is quiet enough, or shallow enough, or narrow enough, to change how it flows.”
Vi leaned against the table, Taavin at her side, the sword behind her. She hung her head, eyes on the floor, staring at nothing. She had to function like a surgeon of fate—cutting and stitching carefully, or the whole world would bleed out and die.
“The Apexes of Fate,” she said slowly. “I can make them?”
“Yes. You, the previous Champion, and the crystal weapons.”
“That’s why there were so many in the North,” Vi realized. “Because the axe was there for a long time and helped shape the North itself?”
“Exactly.”
“So here in Norin, there must be many, too?”
“Indeed. And now that you have access to the sword, we will seek them out in time. At the Apexes, you will peer into the future, and there we’ll learn if your actions have led to a change in fate overall.”
“So where is the first one?”
“Don’t be so eager. You’ve done enough for now. Lie low for a bit, build trust.”
“There isn’t time,” Vi said hastily. “Fiera will be wedded soon, and then Aldrik will be born. That’s when the Knights take the sword, and my father told me that Fiera dies trying to protect it. We have months, Taavin, to prevent that from happening.”
“Remember what I said about stones in the river,” he said cautiously. Vi didn’t miss the ominous undercurrent to his words.
“Are you saying Fiera is—” Vi didn’t have a chance to finish.
The flames at their right brightened as a woman pushed her way through. The fire licked around her skin but didn’t touch it, thanks to a protective barrier. When she was through, that barrier shattered with a snap of light.
“Mysst soto sut,” Denja said instantly. Light spilled from her palms, weaving and solidifying into the shape of a war axe she hoisted with ease. Her muscles bulged against the thin fabric covering her arms. Her bright blue eyes leveled with Vi, Taavin having vanished. “We should talk, you and I.”
Chapter Twelve
Magic collected under her palm, ready to be unleashed. Vi bet they were about to do a lot more than talk.
“We clearly have a lot to discuss.” Vi’s eyes darted to the weapon. Denja was a Lightspinner. No wonder Vi didn’t hear the crash of the sword she’d propped against the door. Denja had likely used durroe sallvas tempre to hide her movements. “Why don’t you release that, and we can do so calmly?”
“Why don’t you summon one of your own like you did in the streets?”
Damn. She’d seen. Vi pressed her mouth into a thin smile. “I really don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’ve yet to decide what I want to do with you,” Denja said casually. “I know you’re not one of the queen’s women. And I’ll assume you know that travel to the Dark Isle isn’t permitted, so I’ll give you one chance: why are you here?”
What Vi wouldn’t give to have a simple answer to that question. Instead, she said, “How do you know I’m not one of the queen’s agents?”
“If you have to ask, you’re not.” Denja had some kind of communication with Meru, Vi would bet. “You’re wasting a lot of what could be your last breath
s not answering my question.”
Vi locked eyes with the woman, swiftly debating her options. She could fight her way out—kill Denja. It wouldn’t be hard to get in a juth calt. Even Taavin had been surprised when she’d used the words in that way. Then again, there was always juth mariy—destroy magic; Denja would use that on her the moment she started chanting.
Firebearing, then?
No, killing one of the Queen Lumeria’s agents would create more problems than it would solve.
“Really? Nothing to say for yourself?” Denja narrowed her eyes, blue and almost purple-ringed. She slid her feet forward and sank into her stance. “Then—”
“Your name isn’t Denja,” Vi whispered. Her whole body relaxed, overcome with a sense of knowing. But this wasn’t magic. What she felt was the overwhelming relief of recognition. How had she not noticed sooner?
“What?” She seemed genuinely startled, her grip relaxing slightly. Perhaps, Denja recognized her too, with some phantom echo of past lives they’d shared.
“Deneya?” Vi asked softly, trying to superimpose the face of the slightly older knight who had taken her to see Queen Lumeria over top of the woman before her. “It’s Deneya, isn’t it?”
“So you know my name. That’s possible for any good spy to find out.” Deneya tightened her grip again. “Especially one who could be working with the elfin’ra.”
Vi balked. “The elfin’ra are still sealed away on their island, aren’t they?” They should be, if Vi’s memories and understanding served her. The elfin’ra were sealed away along with Raspian, a barrier on their island tied to the Crystal Caverns.
“They’re constantly looking for ways to escape. Or finding agents to serve them who are not limited to the island.” This woman was vastly different than the level-headed, quiet knight Vi had met briefly. Yet her eyes were the same as the woman who had found Vi in the Archives.
“Deneya, a world away, you promised me that I would have your sword if I sought you out… Well, here I am, seeking you out.”
“What’re you talking about?” Deneya chuckled. “You’re not going to distract me, agent of evil.”
Vi sighed heavily. There was no way Deneya was going to believe her, not without doing something drastic. Vi would just have to hope Taavin forgave her.
“I’m going to use narro now, to summon someone who can help explain things. Will you allow me this?”
Deneya seemed to weigh her options. She lifted her axe, resting it over Vi’s left shoulder. The blade was a hair’s width away from the flesh of her neck.
“If I hear even the start of a chant that begins with anything other than narro, your head comes clear off.”
“Fine,” Vi agreed easily. “Narro hath hoolo.”
Taavin appeared off to the side as he usually did—rebuilt from glyphs of light until he looked nearly solid. Only the faint outline of magic around his form betrayed that he wasn’t actually there. He looked from Vi to Deneya, then back to Vi.
“Well, this is early,” he murmured. Then, with his attention squarely on Vi, “Did you miss where I told you to keep yourself a secret and act cautiously?”
“Believe it or not, I’m actually trying to keep myself alive right now.” Vi ground out the words. Couldn’t he see she had a war axe at her throat?
“What sorcery is this?” Deneya whispered, staring at Taavin.
“Can you tell her who I am? You know her from before, right?”
“Yes, I do.” Taavin turned to face Deneya. “Deneya Tallois, daughter of Arullia and Rox. Currently the first knight in Lumeria’s Order of Shadows. She who has been on the Dark Isle defending the Caverns for the past hundred years… It is a pleasure to meet you, again.”
“H-how?” Deneya stuttered. The axe at Vi’s neck quivered and nearly bit into her flesh. Deneya was too startled to notice. “Begone elfin’ra specter!” She swung the weapon toward Taavin. It cut straight through him as though he was made of nothing but mist. It didn’t seem to harm him, but the sight was a phantom blow to Vi’s gut.
“I am not wicked. I am the eternal Voice of Yargen,” Taavin continued calmly. “I have served her for hundreds of years. In my last lifetimes, in this, and in the next.”
“You are not the Voice of Yargen. She is—”
“Fathima, and she has been the voice for the past two hundred years,” Taavin finished. “And she will perish in the next twenty to thirty years… depending on certain factors, which will give room for Ulvarth to make his power play against Lumeria.”
Deneya frowned, lowering her weapon—though she still held it so tightly, her hand trembled. Vi took it as a good sign that she had yet to brandish it against them again.
“Earlier, you said hoolo.” Deneya looked to Vi. “One of Raspian’s words? Is this man his work?”
“No,” Vi said quickly. “You would feel it if it was.” She remembered the sensation of the elfin’ra using the word on Adela’s Isle of Frost. It was unmistakable.
“And the dark god is sealed away, unable to give new words,” Taavin continued for Vi.
“Then… what are you?”
Vi took a deep breath and Taavin remained silent, yielding her the floor. Deneya finally relaxed, releasing the axe. It unraveled into strands of light and disappeared.
“I realize that what I am about to say is hard to believe,” Vi began, working up her courage. “I am the Champion of Yargen, and I have been placed here by the goddess herself to defend this world from Raspian’s return.” Vi worked on bite-sized pieces of information.
“The Voice would’ve sent word if Yargen was giving us a Champion once more,” Deneya said cautiously.
“As far as this world is concerned, we don’t exist.” Taavin smiled bitterly.
“Think of us more as travelers, passing through,” Vi added.
“If you’re truly the Champion, prove it to me. Tell or show me something that only the Champion can do.”
“Have you ever met a Champion before?” Vi asked.
“Well, no…”
“Then how will you know it’s something only the Champion can do?” she challenged.
“I…” Deneya let out a low chuckle. “You’re almost drawing me in to this insanity, both of you.”
“Deneya,” Taavin said firmly, silencing the woman. “With the help of the proctor, you cheated your way through the written portion of your examinations to enter into Lumeria’s Order. You did so not because you couldn’t remember the information—but because the words dance on the page before your eyes, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to finish in the allotted time.”
“How do you—” Deneya took a step back, horror overtaking her features.
“Your tutor, the proctor, died in a skirmish in the south of Meru, leaving you alone with the truth of what you both did. Despite his assurances, you have always worried that you are not good enough for your post.”
“I…” Deneya looked between the two of them. Vi could see the hasty rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened, panic settling in. “I never told anyone that,” she whispered.
“You told her.” Taavin gave a nod at Vi. “In a past life. You trusted her because she is the Champion and because she is a woman worth trusting.”
Vi felt a frisson of heat rising to her cheeks at his praise.
Deneya took a step backward, her back meeting the wall. Slowly, she began to laugh, shaking her head. “This is madness. This is impossible.”
“But here we stand,” Vi said.
“Glad one of us knows where we stand because I’m not sure which way is up anymore.” She cast a wary eye over Vi and Taavin. “I need time to deal with all this.”
“Fine.” Mother above, even Vi was still processing what was happening to her. And she had the benefit—if one could call it that—of living through the goddess rebuilding her body to send her back in time.
“But while you do so, swear you will not act against the Champion. And swear you will not report back to Lumeria or anyone
else on Meru of her presence here, or of my existence,” Taavin cautioned.
“Why?”
“I’m walking the razor’s edge of fate and the only way we’re all getting out of this alive is if I have as much control as possible,” Vi said confidently, perhaps more confidently than she felt. “I don’t need more variables I can’t control complicating an already-complicated situation. You’re the only one in this world who knows who I am. I don’t want to regret that trust.”
“Not even Fiera?” Deneya had a look of genuine surprise.
“No.” Though Vi suspected Fiera had some inkling of what Vi was, even if she didn’t have the words to describe it. “Do I have your word?”
“On one condition.”
“I don’t remember this turning into a negotiation.” Vi folded her arms over her chest.
“It’s not every day I get to negotiate with the agent of a goddess.” Deneya smirked and swung her eyes to Taavin. “You seem to know so much. Perhaps you know what I’m about to barter for?”
“It varies.” Taavin’s answer only seemed to unnerve Deneya more. She stared at him for another long second, but abandoned whatever thought she had as she looked back to Vi.
“You give me no reason to suspect you’re up to anything. No funny business. Be on your best behavior.” Deneya’s attention turned to the sword. “And that… I don’t know what it is you intend to do with it. But if you’re seeking it out, you must have some plan for it. Whatever that is, you don’t get to act until you tell me. I’m on this Yargen-forsaken rock to watch over those weapons and the tomb. So if you do something with the sword—or any other weapon—you’re right in the line of my duty.”
Vi looked back to the sword, then Taavin. He had told her they needed to act slowly and be cautious. Making this promise to Deneya seemed in line with that objective. Vi also couldn’t make her play on the sword until after Fiera’s wedding.
“Fine, I accept your deal,” Vi said casually, trying not to convey any hesitation or doubt. The Champion wouldn’t waver. She had to be steadfast in her decisions.