by Elise Kova
“I know.” Vi gave a small nod. “I handled things poorly and needed the past few days to clear my head… to decide what to say to him next. I don’t want to mess this up again. But I promise, I’ll approach him tonight.” She tried to give a reassuring smile, and was happy to see it was one Andru returned.
Rather than going right to her tent, Vi set to wandering after they broke rank for the day.
Dusk had overtaken the rock and sand of the desert. Behind her, in the far distance, she could still see the trees of the North, but they had shrunken, become shadowed, and now looked like little more than ominous black clouds on the edge of the horizon. Ahead of her, the sun still blazed, dying slowly in the western sky. Above, the stars were already beginning to kick off the covers of daytime and greet the world once more.
Vi grabbed the bracelet still tied around her wrist, worrying at the small bead of wood. How had she handled it when she and Ellene had scuffled? Surely they had. She knew they had. But all Vi could think of now were fond memories of the girl.
The soldiers mostly avoided her and Jayme as they moved through camp, and Vi ignored them in reply. Jayme was just as quiet, giving Vi her mental space when she could not allow physical space as well. She had originally set out to find her brother’s tent, but a voice drifting over a gathering of soldiers quickly distracted her.
“When fighting a sorcerer, you need to keep an eye on their movements first—” Snippets of her mother’s voice were carried on the wind like a precious token. Vi headed in the direction, toward a group of soldiers on a dune half-ringing two people opposite each other below—one was her mother; the other wore the black armor of the Tower of Sorcerers.
Vi recognized one of the men on the upper portion of the ring and crossed to her uncle.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Jax looked a little startled to see her. “Your mother is helping some new recruits with pointers for fighting sorcerers. They’ve been asking for some time if she would, and it seems your mother is up to the task this evening.”
“Empresses do that?”
“Vhalla does. Well, these days she makes time whenever she’s able, at least.” Jax nodded, not taking his eyes off the woman in question as she continued instruction. “Connecting sorcerers and commons became her life’s work after she was Awoken.”
That was right—there was a time when Vi’s mother hadn’t been a sorcerer. Where she’d just been a common-born library apprentice working in the palace. Vi found herself forgetting in her mother’s presence, since the woman walked as though she had been born to wear the crown on her brow.
“Being involved with the soldiers, keeping yourself accessible…” Jayme picked up the thought. “Anything that makes sorcerers not seem frightening is a good thing. I hear the way the soldiers talk about sorcerers even now.”
Vi watched her mother move as she demonstrated her instructions to the soldiers. There was a decisive grace and a lack of hesitation that Vi had been working toward with Taavin for months now and she still didn’t possess.
“Such small movements,” she whispered.
“Indeed, but it wasn’t always so. You wouldn’t know it from watching her now, but she had the hardest time with not telegraphing her sorcery when she was your age.” There was a fond and familiar note to Jax’s voice.
“You’ve mentioned that. It’s a skill I seem to have inherited.”
“You have?” Jax looked to her in surprise. “When have you been practicing? I haven’t seen you with the Black Legion once on this trek.”
“I—”
Their conversation was thankfully cut short by Vhalla.
“Now, I think we should demonstrate two different affinities against each other.” The Empress’s voice echoed over the dunes. “Jax, would you care to step in the ring with me and show the soldiers how two different affinities can volley against each other?”
Suddenly all eyes were back on them.
Vi glanced between her mother and uncle, giving the former a small nod of both greeting and understanding. She didn’t know how much Sehra had told her mother about her powers, but Vhalla knew they were different from the rest and Vi was grateful she wasn’t—
“How about the crown princess?” a voice interjected before her uncle could respond.
The attention swung to the giant man who had made the shout. The soldiers around Fallor took a small step away, as if trying to avoid association with him. They were visibly nervous, eyes darting between Vhalla and Vi.
“I should not like to be seen as receiving favoritism,” Vi said with stiff formality.
“Hardly favoritism! I think we would all like to see what our crown princess and future Empress is capable of.” Fallor beamed up at her and Vi was forced to wonder if there wasn’t a sinister glint to his too-white teeth.
Vi wanted to show him exactly what she was capable of with a strong juth lit right under his arse. But her rage quickly devolved into fear as the soldiers around Fallor began to murmur what sounded like agreement. Of course they would be curious to see the princess and Empress Regent spar.
“Are there any objections?” Vhalla addressed the crowd, and then the sorcerers in black situated on the lower dune. “Or perhaps any sorcerers who would like the honor instead?”
Vi’s heart thumped a beat that had the word please attached to every pulse. Yet no one moved. She glanced over her shoulder at Jayme, silently pleading. The girl lifted her brow and scrunched it as if to ask, “What can I do?” Vi didn’t have an answer; Jayme wasn’t a sorcerer, she was just pulling at straws.
“I think you have to go up,” Jax mumbled.
“No one?” Vhalla asked, her eyes settling back on Vi apologetically.
She didn’t want to have to spar before all these people. But there were, as expected, no objections. She had been practicing her Lightspinning at length… to the detriment of her skills as a Firebearer. Vi swallowed hard. Taavin had said magic was magic—Lightspinning or Firebearing—they were both ways to focus a channel.
She could do this.
The group of soldiers parted for Vi to walk through as she descended to the flatter area where her mother stood ready. A pair of purple eyes caught hers, almost flashing in the near-darkness. Fallor stood a head above the rest, still grinning like a fool and looking easily like he could crush all the soldiers who stood a good half step away from him. Vi suppressed a shiver and focused forward.
I’m overreacting, Vi tried to tell herself. He was nothing more than a member of the infantry. A really large, really creepy, annoying member—but not someone who deserved her suspicion. Tonight was merely a coincidence.
Vi wiggled her fingers, feeling the sparks that lingered just beneath her skin charge around them. Should she try to hide her Lightspinning? Or try to draw simple attacks of fire with her magic as she’d first learned? She could conjure basic flames easily enough. Perhaps that was the best path forward…
“Just a simple round, then?” Vhalla suggested, loud enough that the soldiers could still hear what was being decided.
Vi gave a nod of affirmation. Just a little bit of power, just enough to convince them she was a Firebearer and nothing more. She didn’t have to win the spar. It was likely better if she didn’t beat the Empress Regent—Martis would say as much, wouldn’t he?
“Are you ready?” Vhalla asked, sinking slightly lower. Vi gave a small nod, trying to look as though she was ready to do battle as well and hoping it was all a show. “Let’s begin!”
Vhalla didn’t hesitate. She sprang forward, unleashing the power in her legs as she launched from her stance. Vi stepped back, bracing herself, hands up, spark ready.
A wall of wind blew across her. Her heels sank into the sand as she was pushed back. Vi was reminded of Uncle Jax’s fire walls and she pushed the spark into her palms, avoiding the instinct to craft a shield with mysst.
The wall of wind had been a diversion, and the Empress shifted her trajectory. Vi could see her moving with
the air under her feet, speeding her movements and sending the sand scuttling away in divers. She spun, bringing a kick toward Vi.
Vi dropped low, pivoting around her bent leg. The other stretched out and led her turn, sweeping across the sand toward the leg Vhalla stood on for support. Fire crackled off her heel, picking up with a flare on her mother’s wind, causing her to jump back.
“Clever move! Use your opponent’s magic against them whenever you’re able.” Vhalla clapped her hands once and before Vi even had time to register the praise, she was launching forward for a right-handed thrust.
Vi stepped back, avoiding the jab. This was a spar, an exhibition, not a fight. Their punches were wide, their distance large. Her mother was playing up Vi’s limited attacks. It must look real to the soldiers, hope whispered within her. She could convince them all she was a Firebearer.
Vi swung her hand toward her mother’s side and fire cracked like she held a physical whip.
Vhalla dispersed her flames with a gust. Vi was ready, sending a bolt of flame with a flick over her mother’s shoulder. She’d been expecting Vhalla to dodge in the opposite direction, but watched as her Mother stepped toward the fire. The flame caught her clothes, singing a hole by her collarbone—Vhalla stopping just in time to avoid further damage.
Mid-leap, Vi froze, her fire completely vanishing, her eyes landing on the barely exposed flesh. She teetered from one foot to the next, nearly losing balance and tripping over herself. Her stomach had fallen from her body, her mind was in full revolt, and her heart thrummed not from the exertion of battle but sheer panic.
For underneath her mother’s clothes, concealed, barely visible through the singed hole, was a firm-looking, white portion of skin that seemed to almost glisten—as though it were a wet rock. Certainly not burnt flesh, as it should be.
Vi knew that marking. She’d seen it in her visions of the future. She’d seen it with her own two eyes at the clinic.
But nothing could’ve prepared her to see it on her mother’s flesh.
“That’s enough for one evening, I think,” Vhalla said lightly. Vi would think her completely oblivious, were it not for the sudden shift in her demeanor. She was almost too casual, too composed. Vi wanted to run to her, hold her, weep, shake her, scream, and demand answers all at the same time. “As always, thank you all for your interest in learning more about sorcery.”
Vi closed her eyes, trying to calm the pulses of magic that were ripping through her like a sudden shift in tide, sweeping up on the undercurrents of her emotions. She had seen it wrong. It was a trick of the fading light, the pale moonlight on the dunes.
This wasn’t real.
Footfalls grew closer. “What happened?” Jax asked, looking between them. “Are you all right, Vi?” Jayme wasn’t with him. That should’ve been Vi’s first clue that he’d already known despite his confused look.
When she opened her eyes, she looked directly at her mother. Vaguely, the soldiers leaving registered to her—just enough to know that they were out of earshot. If she managed to keep her voice low enough.
“Tell me you’re not afflicted,” Vi whispered with a trembling breath. It was barely audible or screaming; there was no between for her right now.
Her mother’s face was unreadable, her expression closed. It was Jax who gave away the guise as he looked from Vhalla to Vi, his eyes becoming soft and sad in a terrible way that Vi didn’t want to ever see.
“No, no—” Vi shook her head, taking a step back, as if this was something she could run from.
All too fast, her mother crossed the gap between them and wrapped her hands around Vi’s shoulders. Vhalla gave her a gentle shake, looking at her with eyes harder than a Groundbreaker’s stone skin. All in one expression, she seemed to be able to communicate the simple message: If I can keep myself together, so can you.
But those words never left her lips. Instead, her mother instructed simply, “Come to my tent. We will discuss there.”
Chapter Thirteen
There was no sound in Vi’s ears, just a dull ringing noise that she feared would be there for the rest of her life. Things were clicking together, locking into place. Questions compounded with more questions, crashing together around one terrible truth.
Vi pressed her eyes closed, wanting to shut out the whole world for just a minute. One minute so she could catch her breath and then—
“Vi?” her mother said with a gentle touch on her shoulder. Vi’s head jerked up at the contact. “Come in, please.”
Part of her desperately didn’t want to, as if she could ignore the truth laid out before her. But Vi had no other option. It was better to hear it from her mother than leave her mind to speculation.
As soon as the tent flap closed between her and Vhalla, Jax remaining outside to presumably stand guard and send away any who would interrupt them, Vi started.
“Is it the White Death?”
“Yes.” Her mother sat heavily in one of her chairs. Her tent was set up nearly identical to Vi’s.
Vi swayed in place. She wanted to scream and shout, not at her mother, but at the disease slowly killing them all. Instead, Vi stumbled over, all but collapsing at her mother’s feet.
“Were you going to tell me?” Vi looked up at her mother, her invincible mother, the woman who had risen from nothing to rule all, who had fought wars and triumphed—now made frail in the wake of a plague.
“I was.”
“When?”
“After your coronation.”
So if she hadn’t seen it now, she would’ve never found out. “This… this is why Father left, isn’t it?” Vi’s shoulders were trembling, but no tears fell. She was too profoundly shaken and sad—past the point of tears. This was another emotion altogether, one she didn’t even have a name for. “The Senate would’ve never let the Emperor leave, and Father wouldn’t have risked it unless—”
“Unless my life was on the line.” Vhalla was able to say what she could not. She sighed softly, sinking further into her chair and looking up at the ceiling. “But now it seems I will not see him again until we meet in the Father’s realms of eternal night.”
Vi rested her temple on her mother’s knee. Her eyes were unfocused and the world blurry. Everything had a hazy numbness to it that muted reality and made the pain less agonizing.
She could tell her mother of her vision.
Vi could give her hope that Aldrik still lived. But she hadn’t had a vision of him since the one in the ruins long ago. Perhaps Romulin was right and her insistence was misplaced. Perhaps Aldrik Solaris was dead. Vi pressed her eyes closed, as if blocking out the thought. But it persisted.
Her mother’s hand fell on her hair, stroking it lightly. She wouldn’t tell her, Vi decided. If her vision was wrong, or her father was dead, she wouldn’t give her mother a cruel, false hope. “I’m sorry, my daughter, that I have never properly been there for you.”
“You’ve done what you could.” Vi reached up, gripping her mother’s hand. She held it as she shifted, to her knees, and then her feet. Vi squeezed Vhalla’s fingers tightly, as though it would be the last time. Her body acted in a way her mind refused to acknowledge; Vi refused to mourn. “Let the rest of us do what we can, now.”
Her mother smiled faintly. “You’ve truly grown into your namesake.”
“My namesake?” She’d never realized she’d been named after anyone in particular. Her name was slightly odd, so Vi always assumed her mother had invented it.
“Yes… I met a woman once. Well, multiple times. She was actually the one who gave me that watch.” Vhalla nodded toward the watch around Vi’s neck.
“This one?” Vi grasped it, looking down. This was the watch that connected her with Taavin—the one that bore his mark, the one he wanted her to take to Meru. “You recognized it?”
“Of course I did.” Vhalla gave a small nod. “I would recognize that watch anywhere. I’d wondered what happened to it.”
“Fritz said he’d kept it and sent it
to me. Is it all right?”
“Yes, sweet girl. If any were to have it, I’d want it to be you.”
Vi breathed a secret sigh of relief. She hadn’t wanted to try to convince her mother to let her keep it. “Who gave it to you?”
“She said her name was Vi.”
“Why was I named after her?” Vi asked softly. Things weren’t adding up. Her brother was named after their great grandfather—the last king of the Solaris line before their grandfather proclaimed himself Emperor of the Main Continent. Vi was named after a woman her mother had met a handful of times?
Vhalla pressed her fingertips to her lips in thought. Her eyes seemed hazy and unfocused, though Vi couldn’t tell if it was from exhaustion or from focusing on the past more than the present. When her mother finally spoke, it was more dream-like than the confident way she usually presented herself.
“She was… important.”
Vi waited for more, and when the silence stretched on: “Important how?”
“Forgive me.” Vhalla smiled. “I’m afraid that the more time that passes, the harder it is to remember exactly what happened when it came to her. Your old mother is going senile.”
“You are neither old nor senile.” Nor dying. No matter what, she wouldn’t let her mother die. The family Vi had always envisioned would be together, even if she had to fight death itself to make it a reality.
“Well, in either case, she saved my life, multiple times. And every time, she seemed to be less real than the last.”
“How well did you know her?” Vi asked cautiously.
“Not well.”
“Would you say she was a… traveler?” The word stuck on Vi’s tongue, weighing it down, filling her with anticipation.
“I don’t know what she was.”
Vi could tell her mother was tired and had revealed all she remembered already. For all Vi wanted to press for more information, she let it slide. If the woman who gave Vi her name was somehow linked to Sehra’s traveler, Vi would only find out in time.