by Kova, Elise
“I can fight,” the woman insisted, pain turning her voice into a snarl.
“You’re hurt and—”
“Mother above I will turn this sword on you if you don’t let me at the bastard who did this!”
“Fine.” Vi was grinning like a fool. As if this was something she wanted. Something she enjoyed. “Fiera, you guard the sword.”
“It has always been my duty.” Fiera pushed the Emperor away enough to take the sword from Zira’s hands. She looked the least frightened of them all. The only thing that filled her dark eyes was the light of Vi’s flames, and absolute trust that Vi had only ever seen one other time—in the eyes of the men and women who had followed Fiera into battle that night.
“Ready?” Zira asked over the crackle of flames.
“Take this.” Vi quickly drew her sword, handing it to the woman.
“What about you?”
“I’ll find—”
A sword sliced through the wall of fire, nicking the Emperor’s side. He yowled in pain and turned with a growl. Blood stained his hip red, but it wasn’t a fatal wound.
“We’ve wasted enough time.” Vi grabbed Zira’s hand and pushed an opening into the fire, just wide enough for them to slip through, before closing it once more. They ran head-first into a man on the way out.
Head over heels, the three of them tumbled. Vi rolled, stomping feet around her crushing her back and ribs as the panicked masses fled. Grunting, she pushed herself off the floor, flames following her every movement, sending those who would run into her away in burning pain.
“Mysst soto larrk.” A sword appeared in Vi’s palm, her flames masking the strands of light and glyphs that condensed into the weapon. In the back of her mind she continued to focus on the wall of fire protecting Fiera and the Emperor; at all costs, she’d maintain it.
That brought her attention back to the barrier. Three men were slashing at it blindly, getting as close to the flames as they dared. They must think the wall of fire was Fiera’s and that the princess was the one to kill to see it undone.
A dark delight filled her at the notion. This was becoming too easy.
More fire erupted at her side, identical to the flames at Zira’s back and stealing her attention. Zira pushed the charred man off of her, scrambling to her feet.
“Thank you, a second time.”
She’d thought Vi was behind the fire. “You’re welcome,” Vi said as she rapidly scanned the shifting crowd for where Deneya was firing off juth starys. But the woman had hidden herself well, and Vi brought her attention back to the men slashing for the Emperor and Fiera. “Let’s take care of them.”
“My pleasure.”
They moved in tandem. Vi had been running drills with Zira long enough that she was familiar with how the woman moved. But moreover, she was confident with a sword now. Killing came easily. Vi sliced the first man down without a thought before moving onto the second.
Zira parried another. They fought off the immediate threat with backs to each other in an odd dance of death.
Vi bared her teeth, panting and snarling as she looked across the blood-smeared floor of the cathedral for more threats. Most people were out now, the other conspirators included. They must’ve turned tail when they realized their plan wouldn’t bear fruit.
“We need to follow them!”
“No.” Vi stopped Zira with a straight arm. “You get the Empress and Emperor to safety. Bar up the room she was in earlier. Let no one in but me. I’ll go after them.”
“Yull—”
“This is an order!”
Zira blinked, startled at Vi’s audacity. Vi kept her brow furrowed, lips pursed, and the tension in her muscles the same as when she had been in battle. Zira’s mouth fell open, shock softening her jaw. She closed it with a nod.
Vi released her control of the flames. “Go!”
The Emperor and Empress looked around, dazed. Tiberus blinked several times, no doubt seeing blue from the fire. Fiera was faster to recover, swinging her gaze from Vi to Zira.
“This way.” Zira stepped forward.
If Vi left now, she might have a chance to follow any remaining attackers. It’d be the best opportunity to weed out those who were actively hunting the sword. Vi looked over to the group of royals, nearly at the door.
She wouldn’t leave until they were safely away. Vi tightened her grip around her sword. Zira was still alive. She wasn’t about to see her killed now.
As soon as the door to Fiera’s preparation room closed behind them, however, Vi was off. She raced behind the last of the guests flooding out onto the streets.
“Durroe watt radia,” Vi whispered as she crossed the threshold of the cathedral. When she emerged, it was in a new skin.
Vi swung her head left and right. She decided on the direction where the majority had gone. Moving quickly to catch up with those still fleeing, she listened carefully.
“The new Empress is dead.”
“She’s not dead!”
“They really did it.”
“The Knights actually did it. He pulled it off.”
“He didn’t pull off anything. That was an utter failure.”
Vi spun in place, trying to locate the speakers. She slowed her pace to a walk.
“What do you think they’ll do next?”
“They can’t accomplish anything without the sword.”
Two men were walking into a bar not far from her. Vi stepped lightly behind them, trusting her Lightspinning to prevent them from identifying her.
“I think I know a way they could get it.”
“Shh, you idiot, not on the streets.” The taller of the two men glanced over his shoulder, but his eyes swept over Vi as they hastily entered the bar.
She was quick behind them.
“… him at the warehouse. I think the next meeting is—” Vi caught the last of what the tall man was saying as she entered.
“Excuse me, miss, we’re closed for the day,” the barkeep interrupted abruptly. The two men startled and looked directly at Vi—but what they saw was the face of a random woman who attended the wedding. A woman who, blessedly, neither of them recognized.
“I’m sorry.” Vi put on a thick Western accent. “I got separated from my companions, I didn’t know if they’d come in here.”
“They’re certainly not in here. Closed to mourn the tragedy at our princess’s wedding. Out with you,” the barkeep barked.
Mourn? Or conduct private business? Vi looked between the groups of men, but merely gave a sweet, innocuous smile. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”
With that, Vi left.
The streets were mostly empty as she trudged back to the cathedral. When she ascended the stairs once more, it was as a woman the world knew only as Yullia.
“Using your spinning to conceal yourself like that is clever.” Deneya leaned on a column by the doors, arms folded. “You have other tricks for the words?”
“Maybe. And maybe I’ll show you if you continue to be useful to me.” Vi couldn’t tell if the curve of her mouth was a roguish smile or a more threatening display of teeth. She was in a deadly mood.
“I’m useful enough to keep Zira alive like you asked.” Pushing off the column, Deneya walked over to her. “I also saw who delivered the first blow,” she said in a hushed tone, looking out over the city while Vi stared absently into the cathedral.
“Meet me later in the usual place, then.”
“Usual place?” Deneya groaned. “It’s dark and dull and hard to get to. Let’s go out tonight.”
“It’s secluded and no one will overhear us.” Vi shot her a glare. Deneya just grinned as though her goal all along had been to rile Vi up.
“My office instead? I have their fire whiskey, good stuff—”
“Fine.” Vi was beyond arguing. She still had work to do. What they were doing could be a game to Deneya, a fun opportunity to meddle with the affairs of the Dark Isle. But every action had the highest stakes for Vi. “I don’t kno
w when I’ll be there, so you’d better wait.”
“All the more reason to meet in my office.” Deneya strolled down the steps. “I’ll have my books and bottle to keep me company while I wait.”
“Keep your head about you,” Vi called down.
“Won’t be a problem.” She raised a hand, touching the scarf on the side of her head, just where the tops of her ears would be. Elfin. The woman was elfin, Vi realized. That was why she was never without a scarf.
Vi shook her head and went inside, heading right for Fiera’s door. She knocked softly.
“It’s me.” She heard the locks disengage and the door cracked open, Zira brandishing the sword. She relaxed the moment her eyes met Vi’s and opened wide the door.
“You find the bastards?”
“Unfortunately not. They blended into the crowd.” Vi stepped inside, still locking the door behind her. “Is everyone all right?”
“Tiberus is—”
“It is just a nick, do not fret,” he interrupted Fiera. “I’ve had worse out in battle. You, however, will need to see a cleric.”
“You worry for nothing,” Fiera mumbled, glancing askance.
“We’ll arrange for a guarded carriage to take you both back to the castle. There, you can both be looked at by clerics,” Vi said. “And following, we’ll need to discuss protection of the sword going forward.”
“I have every intention of sealing it away.” Fiera shifted in her seat.
“Sealing it away?” Tiberus muttered. “Why seal away a weapon like that, when you could turn it against your enemies?”
That was the last thing Vi wanted. She stepped forward, kneeling before the Emperor and Empress. For a brief second, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of them—a regal couple, young and strong. She was witnessing a moment that even the most skilled painters never could have captured. A moment she should never have witnessed.
“My Emperor and Empress,” Vi started reverently. “I am your loyal subject. I defer to you in all things. But if you will, I implore you to accept council from this lowly one.” She was laying on the decorum thick, but Vi knew enough about Tiberus now to know he was one to appreciate it. “The Knights of Jadar will grow in strength with or without the sword in their possession. They see it as their right.”
“Which it certainly is not,” the Emperor snapped. “Treasonous scum.”
“It is not,” Vi agreed. “But reality and the perceptions of men rarely overlap.”
“What would you have us do?” Fiera asked.
“Hide it as you intended,” Vi said delicately. “But it needs to be a place no one will know—a place they cannot even hunt you to find.”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
“Give it to me,” Vi said boldly, her gaze unwavering. If she didn’t exude confidence, how could she ever expect them to invest it in her? “Give me the sword, and then not even you will know of its location. You cannot be captured or killed to find it.”
“You think we should trust you with the sword? You overstep much for a guard,” Tiberus said down his nose at her.
“She knows her place and acts within it.” Fiera reached out to touch her husband’s hand lightly. “It is something I have considered before. Furthermore, she’s right… this is not something either of us should do. We do not live for ourselves any longer. We live for our Empire—and for our unborn son.”
Fiera rested her hand on her stomach. Vi had never been so fixated on something that couldn’t be seen. One motion could say so much, but Vi didn’t know what language the message was in. Did this mean she was pregnant now? Or was Fiera merely referencing the prophecy Vi had given her months before? She narrowly resisted asking outright.
“You…” The Emperor seemed torn. Torn between his growing family and the peace a contented royal family would foster, and his thirst for conquest. His gaze volleyed among the sword, Vi, and Fiera. But ultimately his wife and unborn child won out. “You are right.”
“Then I will entrust the sword to you, Yullia.” Fiera’s mouth turned upward into an easy smile. She almost looked relieved. “Tell no one what you do with it.”
“I will take its secrets with me to my grave.”
Chapter Seventeen
She had the sword.
Vi had to replay the day’s events in her mind as she stared at the faintly glowing weapon in her bedroom that night to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. There had been the preparations, the wedding, the attack. She had summoned a carriage to take Zira and the royals back to the castle before slipping out a back door herself, the sword wrapped tightly so that not even a glimmer of its divine blue light could be seen. Her shoulders had been tense as she wove through the city, the grin she wore so wide that it hurt.
Her heart was still racing as she summoned Taavin.
The man looked from Vi to the sword on her bed. Like a moth to a flame, he slowly crossed to it, entranced. Taavin ran his fingertips along the blade. Yargen’s magic sought him out as it did Vi. It seemed to seep into him and, for a brief, breathtaking second, the thin lines of magic that hummed around the edges of him faded.
He was there, in the flesh. She crossed over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. He turned, startled. His eyes widened. He must have felt it too.
“Taavin, you’re…” He was solid underneath her fingertips. Vi snaked her arms around his waist, acting on instinct and awe. She could feel his heartbeat racing. Or perhaps the frantic beating was actually her own.
“Vi—” Taavin moved to embrace her and lifted his hand from the weapon. The shimmering magic returned to his form. The warmth and smell of him vanished.
“The sword,” she whispered. “It makes you… real.” If she could string it around his neck, she would.
“Yargen’s magic is a power unlike any other. It’s the embodiment of life itself,” he said thoughtfully, more to the sword than her. But Taavin brought his gaze back to Vi, his thumb caressing her cheek. “But I am always real, for you.”
Vi put on the bravest smile she could, unable and not trusting herself to say anything else.
“Now, tell me, how did you manage to procure it so quickly?”
Her arms tightened around him. “Don’t be cross with me,” Vi started, already searching his eyes for the edges of anger.
“How did you procure it?”
“I had a vision,” Vi began hesitantly.
“When?”
“About two weeks ago.”
Taavin released her and took a step back. “Two weeks, and you didn’t tell me? Where did you have it? What was your vision of?”
Vi finally told him of Zira’s request, looking into Raylynn’s future, and what it had ultimately led her to. She watched his expression darken more with every word. Her heart was now racing for an entirely different reason—the adrenaline of warring emotions.
When she finished, Taavin turned, putting his back to her.
“Taavin, I was only doing what I thought was best. What I thought would lead this world—”
“No, you were doing what you wanted to do,” he interrupted harshly. “You weren’t acting on behalf of this world. You put yourself in danger to strike against the Knights of Jadar. You didn’t even consult me.”
“You would’ve told me not to do it.”
“Of course I would’ve!” He spun, looking at her with rage-filled eyes. “You’re not thinking this through.”
“I am,” Vi insisted. “I played it safe. I did what you asked. And all it led to was the Knights of Jadar gaining enough time to strengthen and organize an attack. If I had been acting offensively sooner, then maybe I could’ve prevented the attack on the wedding from ever happening.” He was silent, glowering at her. “If I hadn’t acted, Zira would be dead.”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Taavin whispered.
“What?” Vi was taken aback by his sudden quiet.
“This wasn’t about the sword, or the world. It wasn’t about dealing a blow to an organizatio
n that threatens your family. This was about her.”
“It was about the sword,” Vi insisted.
“No, you wanted to save Zira.” He took a step forward, raising a finger and pointing at her. “You wanted to save her, because you always want to save her.”
“And is that so terrible?” Vi met him step for step. “What’s so awful about not wanting to see a little girl grow up without her mother?”
“Because you can’t save Zira.” Taavin shook his head sadly. “And you can’t save Fiera, either.”
It was an arrow that fired straight and true, landing right through her heart. Vi staggered back. She grabbed her chest, clawing at the physical ache there.
“You don’t know that,” she whispered.
“Their deaths are stones in the river.”
Vi shook her head, as though she could shake off his words. She couldn’t—they’d burned her. His words singed her chest, making her feel hot all over, like her bones had become cinder. “No,” she said softly.
“Vi, listen to—”
“You listen.” She brought her eyes back to him. “I saved my father when the world presumed him dead. I saved him from Adela. I had a vision of Zira dying today, and she yet lives. I am the one who is to change fate and save this whole, damned world. Do not tell me I can’t save two women.”
“It doesn’t work that way.” The pity in his eyes was the worst part.
“Have I ever saved her before?” Vi volleyed back to him. He narrowed his eyes. “Has Zira ever survived the wedding before?”
“No,” Taavin reluctantly admitted.
“Then you don’t know.” Hope was a wave crashing down on her, extinguishing the blaze that had nearly consumed her. “You don’t know, because this is new.”
“I have ninety-two other histories that guide my wisdom.”
“But you don’t know.”
“I know there are some things that, no matter how hard you try, don’t change.”
“Then I will try harder,” Vi insisted.
“I grant you that you’ve kept Zira alive longer than ever before. But Yargen will come for her life, as she will Fiera’s. Perhaps the assassin that came in the night ten attempts ago will return once more, looking for the sword—”