by Elise Kova
“Romulin said much the same.” Andru rarely missed an opportunity to mention her brother, or his wisdoms. “Which is why he told me to be vague—honest, but stick only to answering the question and nothing more.”
“I would’ve thought the opposite, actually,” Vi mused. “The more the better. If things are left open-ended, I find people assume the worst.” Quotes and quick notes were easy to take out of context when not given proper framework around them.
“He said the more I offer, the more likely they are to take that as absolute truth. Offer a little and they’re forced to ask me to elaborate. It also means less put in writing.”
“Makes sense. Leave it to Romulin to figure out the best way to navigate a political minefield.”
“He can turn even the worst losing position into a winning one,” Andru said, full of admiration.
Vi stretched her arms over her head and started for the door, leaving the folio behind her. She could admit she wanted to see what Andru had written. But the papers had always been there for her to leaf through at night… and she had yet to. She trusted Andru enough to respect his privacy, and whatever he wrote didn’t really matter.
The Senate would have a grand old time spinning stories when the news broke that she had run away.
“What is it?” Andru asked as they left her room, stepping out onto the wide balcony and starting across the creaking rope bridge that connected her quarters to the platform across.
“Hmm?”
“You look somber.” His eyes bounced back and forth from being focused on her to looking anywhere else. Andru’s hands fidgeted briefly before him before he quickly pocketed them. Vi gave a small smile at his quirks—a smile that fell as her mind returned down the wandering path of her upcoming escape.
Just when she would finally be with her family, she would leave them. Guilt was growing at the thought and if she wasn’t careful, it might prevent her from doing what ultimately needed to be done. Then again… it wasn’t really “with her family” as she’d always dreamed if her father wasn’t there, too.
“The Senate isn’t exactly a joyful topic for me.” Vi shrugged. “No offense.”
“None taken.” He took a half-step closer and their shoulders brushed. For him, it was a fairly prominent sign of affection and support. “It’s not my favorite topic of conversation, either. But we’ll manage it together, Romulin, you, and me.”
“We will.” Vi forced a smile as she lied through her teeth.
They worked their way down the fortress, spiraling down staircases, crossing studies and kitchens. They took a shortcut through a butler’s pantry and a servants’ branch walkway. Most of the staff paid them no mind. They were accustomed to the paths the princess took to get where she needed to go.
Eventually, they descended to ground level, to a plot of hard-packed earth. To her right was the noru pen, her left the equine stables, and before her… was a manned gate.
All around the fortress was a large stone wall that had been constructed with Groundbreaker magic. It was tall and perfectly smooth. Sehra’s warriors walked along its top edge, patrolling at semi-regular intervals. She’d heard that a wall even greater than this had been constructed during the siege of Soricium. But Vi had never seen anything like it.
In her lifetime, the fortress had always been open to the people. Most respected the boundaries of the sacred trees, choosing to enter through the main inroad of the fortress—and only if they had business. But in theory, it had been accessible to all.
Now, the people were kept away. And, for the first time in her life, Vi’s beautiful prison actually looked like one.
“You two finally came,” Ellene shouted from the other side of the Noru pens. “All the food has nearly gone cold.”
“Sorry, I’m dragging today.” Vi climbed the simple fence, jumping down on the other side. The fence was more for display than anything else. Any of the large noru cats that lounged in the patchy shade of the giant trees above them could be halfway across Soricium in a moment if they felt like bolting. But most were more occupied with getting in their fourth nap of the day. Lucky beasts, thought Vi.
“You look utterly exhausted,” Jayme observed from where she sat at the edge of a picnic blanket.
“I am.” Vi rubbed a hand over her face. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” More like, she didn’t sleep at all.
“More nightmares?” Ellene asked softly.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“You always seem tired around this time of the week… almost like clockwork,” Jayme observed. Vi knew the look she was giving her—one of pure suspicion. “Any particular reason why?”
“Vi can’t control when she gets good sleep and when she doesn’t. It’s not scheduled in advance.” Ellene huffed, sitting on the other side of the blanket. The young woman began rummaging through the basket set out in the center of them as Vi and Andru sat down.
“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Jayme persisted, locking eyes with Vi.
“It’s nothing,” she insisted. She’d have to change her training time; Jayme was a little too suspicious. It was already hard enough to sneak past all the warriors at their new postings ever since Sehra had tightened security after Vi had run away.
“You’ll feel better with some food in you.” Ellene handed over a long skewer, filled with fire-roasted meats and vegetables.
“I’m sure I will.” Vi smiled and made quick work of eating, busying her mouth long enough that the conversation shifted.
“So what did we miss while Martis was wrapping up?” Andru asked, selecting his own skewer. He stared into the basket. “Other than you two completely consuming every last morsel.”
“Clearly not every last morsel. Otherwise, what are you eating now?” Jayme rolled her eyes.
“We were dying.” Ellene flopped back, tousling her mass of dark curls. “Dying!”
“Dying?” Vi quickly swallowed a half-chewed mass of food to ask.
“Yes, dying,” Ellene groaned. “We have, what, a week or two left before your mother is supposed to arrive? I did not intend on us spending it like this.” She sighed heavily. “There’s nothing to do. We’re cooped up here all day, every day… I’ve forgotten what the sky looks like out from under these trees. And if any of you dare suggest carcivi or balls and mallets again, I will pommel you with said mallet.”
Vi looked over her shoulder and back toward the wall that surrounded them once more. She wasn’t the only one who was feeling far more trapped.
“It’s to keep us safe.” Andru rested the end of his half-eaten skewer on his knee. Vi didn’t feel as hungry anymore either. “And carcivi is fun.”
“That’s because you always win,” Ellene muttered.
“We’re safe, while everyone else is out there dying. It’s worth it.” Jayme rested her palms on the ground behind her, leaning back. The movement was nonchalant for such a grim statement.
“No talk of dying.” Ellene glared at her. “That’s the rule as long as Darrus is out there, remember?”
“Sorry,” Jayme mumbled.
“He’s still working for the clinic then?” Vi asked nonchalantly—at least, she hoped it sounded that way. The topic had come up naturally and she couldn’t have hoped for a better opportunity.
“He won’t listen to a word I say on the matter. There’s no way, he says, that he’ll accept my offer for him and his family to stay in the fortress,” Ellene said softly. Usually, she’d rise to anger. Vi braced herself for whatever was the source of the introspection—she already knew she wouldn’t like it. “Especially not after his cousin was taken to the clinic.”
Vi fought a wince and failed.
“Not surprised he won’t,” Jayme said softly.
“Oh?” Andru finally placed his half-eaten skewer back into the basket. Vi took the last bite of hers and did the same.
“Common folk have solidarity. We’re not used to special treatment… so when we get it, it feels… wrong. Unfair. As though
we’re turning our back on our kin,” Jayme elaborated.
“I invited his kin.” Ellene propped herself up on her elbows.
“I mean the greater kin of us poor folk against you nobles.”
“Against?” Andru hung on the word, but Vi focused on something else.
“You don’t feel like we’re kin?” Vi asked, shocked.
Jayme gave a small laugh. “I’m not the best example. Half of my life has been spent around you two and your families.”
“Regardless of why, Darrus won’t. That’s all that matters,” Ellene grumbled, keeping them on the topic of conversation—her suitor. “I just wish that if he was going to stay out there, he wouldn’t take unnecessary risks and work at the clinic.”
“It may not be an unnecessary risk,” Andru mused hopefully. “We still don’t know how it spreads, right? Maybe it has nothing to do with proximity.”
“And he’s working to figure out how it spreads,” Jayme offered hopefully. “He’ll know first, so he’ll know how to protect himself.”
“Or he’ll be exposed first.” Ellene was inconsolable on this matter.
“When does he work with the clerics?” Vi worked to stay focused, to guide the conversation in the direction she needed it to go. Perhaps she could have Ellene summon him the next time he was free. Then Vi could try to get a message to the Western woman through him… or, at the least, find out if she was even still alive.
“Nights, sometimes late afternoons.”
Vi could work with that. “Maybe, perhaps, we could steal him away one afternoon, keep him from exposing himself further? Maybe convince him to take one night off, even. If he won’t stay here permanently, we could at least lessen the risk some?”
“That’s not a terrible idea…” Ellene sat back upright, crossing her legs. “It’s been a while since we—”
“Open the gates!” The shout of a warrior patrolling the wall interrupted Ellene. All four of their heads jerked in the direction of the manned stone gate. The two warriors were moving forward, sweeping their hands up and then down, magically lowering the stone pillars that blocked the main path. “Imperial rider!”
Vi rose to her feet slowly, vaguely aware of the others doing the same.
Imperial rider. Squinting, she could make out a horse in the distance. The details of its leathers were impossible to decipher, but Vi already knew what they looked like. She knew they had the emblazoned suns of Solaris stretching across them just like Jayme’s did when she was out for deliveries.
“Vi—”
She didn’t know who called after her, but Vi was running. She was over the fence and on the other side, starting toward the gate. She knew it wouldn’t be her mother or brother. And yet… this person was from them. Her heart was still racing at the thought of how close her family was.
The horse sped through the open gate and the two warriors on either side raised the pillars once more. The woman slowed the speckled stallion down, her feet pressing forward as her body leaned back slightly in the saddle.
Without a second thought, Vi walked right up to her.
“Report,” Vi commanded. There were warriors coming from the wall. She had no doubt Sehra and Jax were on their way from within the fortress. But her attention was solely on the blonde-haired woman hastily dismounting before her.
“I have a message for the chieftain, please excuse me.” The rider handed Vi the reins.
Vi blinked at them, glancing down at herself. Well, she wasn’t exactly dressed like a princess today. Though the overall finery in fabric and make should’ve given something away. The Westerners had known who she was at a mere glance. A Southerner clearly had no idea.
“I believe it is information I am privy to.” Vi dropped the reins and stepped in front of the woman.
Her blue eyes narrowed slightly as her face twisted into an indigent look. “I was told to deliver my message to the chieftain, not a stable hand. Now, see my horse is fed and brushed while I carry out Imperial business.”
A tiny smile crossed Vi’s lips. She had a lot of options on where to go from here, and all were appealing.
“That is no stable hand.” Her friends had joined her, and Jayme was the one to speak up on Vi’s behalf. “I believe it is customary to bow before your crown princess.”
The woman looked back to Vi, and Vi saw the moment realization dawned on her. She did more than bow. The woman practically fell to her knee.
“Forgive me, your highness. I did not—”
Vi held up her hand. She didn’t care right now about appearances, even though she could practically hear Martis’s voice in her head droning on about how she should. This was the moment the true judgment of the South began. With this woman’s first impression, rumors would spread. And she had been plain enough to be mistaken for a stable hand—not the most ideal start.
Perhaps it was for the best she had already intended on running away.
“Tell me news of my mother,” Vi demanded.
“The Imperial parade is approximately three days from Soricium.” The woman raised her eyes. “I was sent ahead so your preparations could begin.”
Vi’s heart skipped a beat. In fact, it skipped several. She struggled to find air while keeping her face regal and passive.
“Three days, that’s much earlier than expected,” Ellene murmured.
It was, and that meant she didn’t have time to wait and find an excuse for Darrus to be sent to the fortress.
She had to go to him herself.
Chapter Four
“Narro hath hoolo.” As Vi spoke the words, light spun Taavin into existence. Vi pulled the magic back from her fingertips, drawing it tightly around her wrist, imagining it as though it were a rope knotting in place.
“I’m surprised you’re not asleep yet.” He looked toward the window. “You usually don’t summon me after we’re up all night.”
“Tonight isn’t going to be any normal evening.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?” A frown crossed his lips as he looked her up and down. “You’re dressed to go out.”
Vi pulled at the hem of her cloak. He must’ve remembered it from when she had last sneaked out into Soricium. That was when she still questioned the necessity of finding the apexes—before she had seen the end of the world. Before she had become invested in him.
“I am.” Vi crossed to the window, putting her back to him. She didn’t want him to see her face because she still had yet to train an expression onto it when talking about her family. “I received word today that my mother will be here in roughly three days’ time.”
Taavin made no sound when he moved. He’s not actually here, she reminded herself time and again. Every instance was harder. Because she wanted him to be. She wanted his feet to actually touch the floor, his body to move the air around him as he stepped.
Yet, even though he wasn’t, Vi felt him as though he was. She felt his essence near as he crossed the room to stand behind her. He could make not a single sound or footfall, and she’d know exactly where he was.
She waited for him to say something. Curiously, he didn’t. Taavin was oddly quiet, as if waiting.
So Vi filled the silence.
“They’ve been preparing me all day for it. Tailors measured me and sketched ‘options’ as each of my tutors reviewed things. I took dinner with Sehra to discuss logistics… the White Death has really pared back the plans for the arrival.
“The whole Imperial parade was supposed to come into the city with all its fanfare and might. But now they don’t want to subject the military—or my mother and brother—to the illness that’s ravaging Soricium.
“Likely for the best. I can’t imagine the older residents of Soricium being particularly pleased about the Imperial militia in their city again, even briefly. Sehra agreed with me on that much.”
“How are you handling it all?” Taavin stopped her nervous rambling with a gentle hand on her elbow. The touch nearly made Vi jump from her skin, and she turned i
n place.
“What?” Vi’s voice had dropped to a whisper, though she didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because the question was so confusing. Or perhaps she had been wrong about knowing exactly where he was. Taavin was far closer than she expected. “What does that even mean?”
His emerald eyes searched her face. “It seems a lot all at once.”
“I can handle it.” She looked back toward the window.
“I never said you couldn’t.”
“It sounded like you implied it.” Vi still wasn’t looking at him, so she only heard the soft sound of his laughter.
“Inquiring after your emotional state suggests your ineptitude?”
“If you’re worried about my emotional state, you must think it’s unraveling. You must think that I can’t, or I won’t—”
“Or I merely care for you.” Her eyes flicked to him at that, and then promptly away. There was a raw emotion on his face that she didn’t want to investigate right now. Perhaps he was right to ask about her emotional state. Because merely seeing him look at her that way knotted her insides. “Does anyone around you see how you are—the woman—not the princess, during all this?”
“Of course not. And why would they?” Vi added hastily. “This is what I’ve always wanted.” Now she didn’t know if she was speaking more to him, or to herself.
“Sometimes, getting what you’ve always wanted is the hardest part,” he murmured.
“What do you mean?” Vi turned in place to face him outright, rather than look out the window. Their chests were nearly brushing. Had he taken a step closer without her realizing?
Magic radiated off of him in warm, invisible waves. He was close enough that she could almost smell him, though Vi was certain she was merely imagining the soft aroma of lilies, cedar, and the fresh, clean air of spring.
“I’ve always wanted to leave this place, to see the world—to merely see Risen from beyond my tower and not through the curling smoke of Yargen’s flame. But I have no idea what I would feel, or do, if I had such freedom.”
“This is different,” she whispered. Was it? She was staring down the eve of her freedom, the day she would leave Soricium and finally see the wide world that had been confined to the four corners of her maps until now.