by Elise Kova
“You don’t need a partner to dance.” Vi laughed softly. “You can do it alone.”
“No one has ever taught me.” He shrugged.
“You’ve never felt so merry at the sound of music that your feet just moved on their own?” She was hardly one to talk. Vi was not one to be swept away by a beat. But it had happened once or twice.
“I have not had many reasons—until lately—to feel merry, Vi.”
Until lately. The words stuck with her, shining like the light that surrounded him. Vi swallowed, facing him. They talked so much now, but it felt like even more was going unsaid. There was no logical explanation for the feeling, but it put a lump in her throat.
“Perhaps I can teach you some time?”
The tiniest of smiles crossed his mouth. His eyes were soft, tender almost. A welcome change from the hard-as-gemstones man she’d first met.
“I’d like that.” There was a soft knock on her bedroom door. Vi looked between Taavin and the source of the noise. “You should go.”
She should. But all she wanted to do was stay and teach a man made of light how to dance.
“I’ll summon you tonight. It’s quiet after the festivities. We can go over mysst,” she whispered hastily.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Vi kept her eyes on his face as it disappeared. She felt the strands of light release from her fingers, knots of tension in her magic relaxing. He was gone, as though he’d never been there at all. And it was that impermanence that put an ache in her chest.
“Come in,” Vi called, finishing up her braids as she emerged back into her bedroom. She was finding it easier and easier to switch back and forth from talking with Taavin to engaging with the rest of the world. It was a necessary skill to ensure he remained her secret.
“You look beautiful,” Jax said from the doorway.
“Good thing my face healed, right?” Vi remarked, pausing to rub the bridge of her nose lightly. She wondered if it had set correctly.
Jax laughed, then had the decency to look guilty for it. “I meant your clothing, not your face.”
“I told you I wasn’t insane for wanting to go a little untraditional.”
“By all standards… it’s certainly something no one would dare call traditional,” he appraised. “But it’s a very nice merger of North and South.” The statement was punctuated with a yawn.
“Too early for you?” Vi grinned. “It’s not much earlier than we used to get up for our magic lessons.”
“Yes, well, we haven’t had those in some time thanks to Sehra stealing you from me for lessons.” Jax glanced at the window. “Speaking of Sehra, I believe I saw her headed down.”
“Is it that late already?” Vi jumped from her seat.
“Not late, perfectly on time.”
They walked down together through the tree fortress, across the same pathways and passages Vi had traversed more than a week ago to get to the Mother Tree. The barrier she had to scale was completely gone. In its place were pathways of fresh grass lined by woven roots, and patches of flowers nursed to bloom by the tender hands of a Groundbreaker. As far as Vi could tell, there was no sign or suspicion of her earlier trespass.
Jayme was waiting for them on the outer edge.
“Good morning, princess.” She gave a small bow of her head. Even in her nicest dress clothes, attending a sacred event, her sword was still strapped to her hip.
“Good morning.” Vi ignored decorum and pulled her in for a close hug. “And happy solstice.” She felt the woman relax in her arms.
“Happy solstice to you as well.” Jayme gave her a pat on the back.
“This is your first time, right?” Vi linked arms with her friend, walking toward the tree.
“Yes, I usually stay in the capital or go home over winters.”
“How is your father doing?” Vi asked delicately. The opportunity to broach the topic of Jayme’s family wasn’t frequently afforded; speaking about them upset Jayme terribly, and while Vi had no desire to trouble her, she wanted to make plain that she cared. “Have you heard word since arriving?”
“Mother says he’s well.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Over the years, it had come out that Jayme’s father was ailing… some constant, chronic problem. But Vi didn’t know any further details. The only solace Vi took was that he had grown sick long before the White Death made landfall. So there was no suspicion of the deadly plague being the cause of his illness.
Her father’s sickness… Friends made on the road… Her ambition to become a guard… It suddenly struck Vi just how little she actually knew about her friend. There was the same sickening feeling that accompanied the realization about Andru’s knowledge of Romulin.
“Happy solstice!” Ellene ran over from her mother’s side, throwing her arms around them both and interrupting Vi’s thoughts before they could run away from her. They echoed the sentiment back. “I thought you were going to be so late you’d miss it.”
“The sky is barely turning colors.”
“Yes well, we need to—”
“Ellene, your place,” Sehra called over to her daughter.
With that, the rest of the room fell into their places as well.
Sehra and her wife, Za, stood before the statue of Dia and the Mother, Ellene sandwiched between them. There was a ring of men and women around them, and Vi stood with them. She recognized some of the others in her circle like dignitaries, nobles, and even a Crone of the Sun. Vi tried to peer under the woman’s over-sized cowl, but could only see the lower half of her face, as was customary. It was rare to see crones in the North… perhaps she’d come with the same caravan as the old woman in the market.
Behind them, around the edge of the room, was everyone else. Still a small group, so mostly important people in Northern society and to Sehra. Of them, Vi only recognized three—Jax, Jayme, and Andru. Quite a few leaders from the outer townships of Shaldan had come to Soricium this year, it seemed, so the usual attendees from the fortress had been edged out.
Clearing her throat, Ellene stepped forward.
“The world was young,” she began, her voice wavering initially before she caught her stride. “Young enough that only the Mother Tree which stands here now, oldest in the land, is the only one who can recall the hours. This land was dark, absent of the sun’s light.
“Then, a star fell.
“The star was caught in the boughs of the Mother Tree. As the branches swayed and shook, the star was jostled, collecting the tree’s life energy on the way down to earth. This energy—part godly, part mortal—became the young Dia when it reached the earth. Her skin was made of the bark of the tree and her hair shone with the stardust she brought with her from the heavens.
“The Mother saw this falling star, and the holy light that radiated in her, and said, ‘Take this axe, my child, and by its blade, carve a new society in my name. Teach its people the ways long forgotten in this land of night. Use the magic within it to guard and guide them.’”
Ellene stepped back, and Sehra stepped forward.
“Dia did as the mother asked,” the Chieftain continued. “She guarded and guided the people to prosperity. And when the end of her life drew near, she returned to the Tree and asked the Mother for one more gift—an heir.
“Yargen told Dia that the power lived in her. So Dia cleaved a seed from the Mother Tree and consumed it. In nine months’ time, she gave birth to an heir that carried on a part of her light.”
Vi’s eyes drifted to Ellene as Sehra spoke. She’d heard the story many times before. But every time, at this part, Vi couldn’t help but wonder as to the exact logistics—a mystery she’d likely never have the answer to.
But she believed it. Because she also had powers supposedly from the Mother, was visited by a man made of light, and was hunted by a red-eyed assassin who worshiped the godly incarnation of evil itself. Was it really so hard to believe that a woman could get pregnant by a magic tree?
“We, descendants o
f Dia, remain steadfast in our mission to protect our people.
“We honor the old ways.
“And we still have not lost the command of her light to guide us through dark times.”
Sehra raised her hand and Vi watched closely. Every time she’d seen this ritual before, she’d missed it. A small sigh escaped Sehra’s lips, one Vi knew to be the sound “durroe.”
It was true what Sehra had said, that in time she had learned the words to the point of hardly needing to speak them. It was an illusion, nothing more, but the usual oohs and ahhs from those gathered showed that they saw it as the Mother’s pure blessings.
The ball of light Vi had stared at for hours on end filled Sehra’s palm. Sehra turned to the statue, and placed it in the Mother’s outstretched hand. It stayed there after she took her hand away, and Vi knew it would remain for the better part of the day before fading with sunset.
When she was younger, she too thought it was the Mother’s blessings fueling the orb. Now, she knew it was nothing more than a spell and the Chieftain’s own power. Vi honestly couldn’t decide which was more impressive.
“On this day, as we prepare to endure the longest night of the year, and go the longest stretch without seeing the Mother sun, Yargen’s visible force on our world, we pray she will watch over us from her heavenly throne.” Vi could’ve sworn she saw Sehra’s eyes flick in her direction. “We are those who keep Dia’s light alive.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vi had a mug of steaming cider and couldn’t feel more content. She’d needed a day of merriment and relaxation, and that’s precisely what the solstice provided.
Music lofted through the air near midday. The bands had been playing non-stop after the noru races had concluded in the morning, immediately following the rituals. The solstice festivities were so large this year that the dancing alone had sprawled across three separate clearings in the city—one Vi suspected was made by some determined Groundbreakers to have their own dance floor when everything else was full.
Everything muddled together like the spices in her drink. It was impossible to focus on any one singular thing—but she didn’t want to anyway. The sum of all the parts was too wonderful to try to separate them. Vi wanted to take in everything, as much as she could. This would be her last solstice to enjoy in the North and she was awash with nostalgia, and regret over the worry that she had never really spent long enough enjoying it before.
“How long does this go on?” Jayme asked from her side. They sat on a raised platform of stairs with Andru, others escaping the dancing, and those merely enjoying the merriment. Though none sat too closely. It was the invisible force field of nobility keeping others at bay. With an elfin’ra on the loose, for once Vi wasn’t irritated by the imposed isolation.
“They celebrate as long as the sun is in the sky, so the Mother can see joyous appreciation for her goodness before she settles in for her long sleep. When the sun is gone, there will be one more ritual and then everyone braces for the long night.”
“Braces? Braces for what? Is there some kind of ritual combat in honor of the Father?”
“No. Braces as in goes to sleep.” Vi laughed.
“You could’ve just said that, you know.” Jayme shook her head, exasperated, but a smile spread across her cheeks. “The drama of the ritual from earlier has you swept up.”
“Perhaps.” Vi took another sip of her drink, savoring the way the flavors drifted over her tongue before burning down her throat due to heat in both temperature and spice. There was a lot of drama Vi was wrapped up in, way more than Jayme would likely ever understand. “Isn’t that part of the enjoyment, though? Getting lost in something that seems as if it should be impossible?”
Impossible… like a man made of light. A smile fought its way onto Vi’s face at the thought.
“Well, if that isn’t a romantic notion.” Jayme gave her a sidelong look, one Vi ignored. The last thing she wanted to do was give Jayme any suspicions about Taavin.
“She certainly seems lost in romance,” Andru said from their side, nodding at Ellene and Darrus as he sipped from his mug.
“That’s the truth. This whole place could burn down and I don’t think she’d see anyone but him.”
Jayme snorted in amusement. “Us, maybe? She might try to save us from the fire.”
“Maybe.” Vi stressed the word to the point they broke into laughter. She turned to Andru. Something about the time that had passed bringing them closer, the cool day clearing her head, or the warm cider sitting in her belly, had made her comfortable enough to dare asking a personal question. “Has a lady caught your eye back home, Andru?”
He sputtered and coughed, cider going everywhere at the question. Vi and Jayme fought laughter at his expense as he set his mug aside, trying to wipe it off the front of his shirt.
“Me? A lady? No…” he mumbled, glancing at them, then back to his shirt. Vi tilted her head slightly, trying to see his face. There was something there… something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“But—”
“My father is adamant that I make a good match.” He grew still, maybe preternaturally so. Vi had lost count of the times Andru’s demeanor brought to mind helpless prey caught in the crosshairs of a predator. She couldn’t hear the words that echoed in his mind, but she could see his eyes were no longer fixated on the present. He’d said his father was an ass, so Vi could only imagine how that conversation went.
She reached out a hand, resting it lightly on his. Andru stiffened at the touch, and they made eye contact. She held it for a long moment.
“I’m sure I’ll be the same,” Vi whispered softly. “I’ll have a good match made for me, too.” A match she’d have little say in.
“Your parents certainly defied those expectations,” Jayme mumbled. Vi opened her mouth to reply, but it was Andru who beat her to the words.
“Prince Romulin has said that’s precisely why they—Vi especially—are expected to make smart matches. A commoner rising to marry the Crown Prince as Empress Vhalla did is not something we can come to expect often.”
“And here I thought they’d set a precedent.” Jayme took a sip of her cider.
“They had unusual circumstances leading to their being crowned.” Vi sighed softly. There had been the assassination of her grandfather, the uprising of the Mad King, the final war of the Crystal Caverns before the caverns went dormant—.
The Crystal Caverns going dormant. Vi sat straighter. Taavin had said the barriers on Raspian and his followers had been broken about eighteen years ago, which corresponded with the end of the Mad King’s rule and his use of the power from the caverns. Could that have been the barrier?
Vi fought the urge to race back to her room and summon him, instead taking another lingering sip of her drink.
“Romulin says much the same,” Andru said, ignorant to Vi’s thoughts. “He thinks Vi will be married to a prince of the East and he a princess of the West.”
“Don’t you mean, Prince Romulin?” Jayme leaned forward slightly. “You’re always going on about what the prince does and doesn’t say. Are you sure you report to the Senate and not to him?”
Andru turned scarlet. “I-I am merely fortunate enough to know his highness and think he is very wise.”
“I agree with you, Andru,” Vi said over the top of her mug. Jayme had connected something she’d overlooked. Something Vi was now incredibly curious about. But much like her other revelation about the caverns, this was neither the time nor place. “He gives me excellent counsel, and I am looking forward to getting such wisdom in person when I go home.” Along with knowing him better in every other way.
“Home…” Jayme repeated thoughtfully. “Vi, may I ask you something?”
“You know you can ask me anything.”
“Do you really want to go south?” Vi frowned, turning to face her friend. Jayme took a sip, clearly mulling over her words with the cider. “You did say I could ask anything.”
; “It’s fine you asked.” Vi didn’t want Jayme to feel like she couldn’t be honest. “I’m merely wondering where that question comes from… Have I done something to make it seem like I don’t appreciate the South?”
She glanced over at Andru. Even if he’d become her ally… did she have to worry about matters like this being repeated to his father? Jayme clearly didn’t think so, as she continued the line of questioning.
“Nothing of the sort. But if I’m honest, you haven’t done anything to make me think you have a deep love for it, either. You’ve lived here your whole life, you know this as home… do you really want to leave it?”
“I expected this sort of questioning from Southerners, but not from you.” Vi had been bracing herself for it, preparing herself, but she hadn’t thought it’d come so soon.
“A good thing to expect,” Andru murmured.
“I’m just curious, princess,” Jayme insisted. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry if I sounded curt.” Vi sighed.
“Answer honestly now, princess,” Andru advised. “You may not have a chance when we return home.” He was on her side—she was sure of it.
Vi searched for an answer to the question—an honest answer. Everything she could think of to say sounded as though she was channeling her best public princess face. But they were right. This might be the only opportunity she had to answer as just Vi—not the princess, not the heir, but Vi Solaris.
“Home is a funny thing…” she said, finally. “I don’t really know where home is or what it will look like. I have dreams, ideas, but nothing concrete.”
“But it’s not here?”
“Sehra has been… kind, most of the other Northerners as well… All right, hit or miss sometimes with them—not that I blame them, given how recently the war was, all things considered… But overall, yes, they’ve been kind. And Ellene is like the sister I never had.” Vi’s eyes landed on the girl in question. She was laughing, full-bellied and head tilted back, as Darrus spun her in time to the music. “But Ellene is the only one who could make this feel like home. Everyone else has always maintained a level of distance; they see me as Southern. I don’t look like them, or talk like them, and trying to would be nothing short of offensive. I know that without my tutors telling me as much.