by Elise Kova
“Thank you for telling me, Mother—about both the watch and the woman I’m named after. But you should rest now. You look tired.”
“I am.” Vhalla raised her hand and Vi reached out, grabbing it one more time. “How was I blessed with such an understanding daughter? It will do me well to have the trials of the Empire passed off my shoulders. Forgive me for that.”
“Stop asking for forgiveness; you’ve done nothing to forgive. Romulin or I would both be relieved to see you in a place where you can rest and focus only on your health.” Vi leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on her mother’s forehead. “Now, get all the sleep you can before the march tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Vhalla said softly, eyes dipping closed. “Forgive me also… that I repeat the mistakes of my mother.” Her voice trailed off, already drawling with slumber so much that arguing further with her was pointless.
Vi took a few steps backwards, her attention settled on the rocky portion of her mother’s chest, laid bare by a tiny singe. She took a deep breath, straightening with it, and strode from the tent—nearly bumping into Jax on the way out.
“Vi?”
“She’s falling asleep.” Vi looked up at her uncle. “See she gets to the actual bed so she’s comfortable.”
He was startled at her tone. So was Vi. She wasn’t usually one to order him of all people. But things had changed. In such a short period of time, everything was becoming irrevocably different.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine. I will be fine,” Vi answered, soft but firm. “Please, look after her.”
“I always have.” Jax turned his head toward the tent. “Your father asked two things of me. The first was to look after you. The second was to look after her.”
“Don’t let him or me down.” Vi grabbed Jax’s hand. “I— We need you.”
“I will always be here for Solaris.” Jax’s eyes were shadowed and haunted. But soft, and as loving as she’d always seen them. “They call me the Crown’s Dog. But these days, if I’m a dog, it’s because the hearth I have found to guard is yours.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He merely nodded, pulling away, and stepped into the tent. Vi moved in the opposite direction. Her family was splintering at an alarming rate, and there was one bond she couldn’t allow to sit fractured any longer.
Her brother’s tent was only a short distance away—short enough that Vi managed to cross to it without an escort clinging to her shoulder.
Without hesitation, Vi gave a firm knock on the tent post. There was movement within, hushing voices, and then Romulin’s face appeared illuminated by a small sliver of orange light.
“S-Sister?”
“We need to talk.” Vi clasped her hands before her, knotting them over her stomach. “You’re the only one I can turn to right now. I need your wisdom. I need the other half of my mind.”
“I—Of course.” Romulin looked inside and it was when he shifted that Vi locked eyes with Andru. The other man stood from where he’d been lounging, eyes on his feet as he crossed to leave.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he mumbled.
“Thank you, Andru.” Vi watched him go. Luckily, he didn’t seem too upset at being displaced. He’d been the one pushing her to make up with Romulin, after all.
“Well, come in then.”
Vi followed behind her brother, stepping into a tent full of awkward tension. She ignored it. There wasn’t time for their petty squabbles anymore.
“I wish,” she started, “we had the luxury of time. I wish we could’ve grown up together, spent our years playing and learning alongside each other. But we didn’t have that.”
He gave a small nod, not yet knowing where she was going with her point but clearly agreeing with that basic sentiment.
“But I realize now, I wouldn’t change it.”
Romulin’s eyes widened a fraction at that statement.
“We are in a unique position—you and I.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know about Mother.”
The words clearly shook him to his core. He took a step backward, sitting heavily in one of his chairs. Romulin ran a hand over his face and shook his head.
“I didn’t think she’d tell you so soon…”
“She didn’t intend to. I found out by chance.” Vi watched the opportunity to chastise her brother for keeping it from her come and go. A competitive, sisterly part of her hated that her twin knew something she didn’t. The more logical princess knew it was a strength they had—they’d each studied vastly different knowledge, and together they formed a more complete whole.
Romulin wouldn’t look at her. Finally, he spoke softly. “Do you see now?”
“See what?”
“This is why I was telling you that we need to focus on the here and now. We need to enjoy what we have—the love and joy we can find—because the road ahead is more challenging than anything we’ve faced so far.”
“The road ahead is more challenging than anything we’ve faced. But we need to keep our eyes on it, focused on the route that leads where we want to go. We can’t be so lost savoring the now that we don’t seize tomorrow.”
He finally looked back to her with his cool eyes. Vi leveled with his, not backing down, not flinching. She didn’t come to fight, but she also wasn’t about to budge on her opinion.
“I’m going to find Father,” Vi vowed softly. “And I’m going to help him find a cure for Mother.”
“Not this about Father being alive again.” Romulin pushed off the chair’s armrests and began to pace.
Vi stopped him, grabbing his wrist. “I need you, brother. You have always given me good counsel, helped me lay and implement plans, but now I need you to heed me—to trust me. As I’m going to need to trust you. It’s my turn to give you counsel. Mother will need you when I’m gone, the whole Empire will. You’re going to do what needs to be done. You’ve always known what that is; trust your gut and follow it.”
“Vi… You can’t really be entertaining this fantasy of running off and playing hero.”
“I don’t care about being the hero. I’m merely doing what must be done because no one else can or will.” Vi released her grip, searching his face for the brother she’d always known in her letters, for the closeness she’d always felt. The moment she saw a glimpse of it, Vi reached out, clasping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight embrace. “We will talk more. Take the next day and think if you must. But I will be leaving from the Crossroads, and before I do that, I want to know two things: That you know I love you. And that you will take care of Mother and keep this secret, sharing my truths only when you think the time is right. I trust your judgment above all else. So if you have any bright spots of advice to give me before I go, I welcome them.”
Releasing him, Vi left him with those thoughts. He wouldn’t tell anyone of her plans—she was certain of it. They may not see entirely eye-to-eye on this. But he was her brother, and he would look out for her above all else.
Before she knew it, she was back in the darkness of her tent, alone.
“Narro hath hoolo,” Vi whispered. Outside, Jayme’s armor clanked as she settled into her post just on the other side of the tent flap. She had to be quiet, but she wasn’t going to be dissuaded.
Taavin appeared, her emotions linked to each swirling glyph that etched him before her from thin air. Vi watched as he sharpened and came into focus. She took an almost hesitant step forward.
“What is it?” he asked softly the moment he saw her expression. The lilt of his voice vibrated deep within her.
“My mother has the White Death.”
“Oh, Yargen’s light, Vi, I am so sorry.” Taavin crossed quickly, scooping up her hands in his.
Vi shook her head. “I’m not grieving for a mother who isn’t dead. I’m not mourning someone who’s not gone—someone who can be saved.” She locked eyes with him. “Tell me she can be saved.”
“
I don’t—”
“Tell me there is a cure on Meru. Or that once we lock Raspian away for good, the White Death will be gone with him. Once he’s gone, and the spread stops, we can heal her,” Vi whispered hastily.
“I… would hope.” He sighed softly. “But I fear it won’t be so simple… And I don’t want to hurt you by promising things I cannot ensure will pass.” His thumbs stroked over hers. In the darkness of her tent, there was only him, a man with pointed ears who shimmered slightly at his edges.
“You could never hurt me. You have given me so much strength.”
“You still barely know me.” Taavin looked at her sadly. “I’ve done terrible things. And even worse things happen to the people I’ve dared to love, Vi.” His voice dropped to a thoughtful whisper, a hand loosening its grip to land on her cheek. She felt the pad of his thumb smooth over the curve of her face. But it was distant, the action unimportant to the words he spoke.
“People… you love?”
His lips parted slightly, shock manifesting on his face. So she hadn’t heard wrong. She hadn’t felt wrong. Vi gripped his hand more tightly; she wasn’t going to let him go now, not for anything.
She pulled gently, leaning forward, her heart racing. She’d never done this before and certainly didn’t think she was doing it right based on how Ellene had always described it—the young woman had always stressed that the man must be the first to move at all costs. That was well and good for someone who had time, for someone whose life was secure and stable. But Vi’s was one misstep from falling apart.
It might not be love yet, Vi honestly didn’t know. But she knew what she felt for this man was strong and different from anything she’d ever felt with anyone else. She knew she wanted him above all others.
“Don’t do this.” Taavin’s breath warmed her nose and mouth. Even as he protested, he moved closer—closer than they’d ever been before. “There will be no going back.”
“I certainly hope not,” she whispered.
Vi’s eyes dipped closed. The last thing she saw were his heavy lids and unfocused pupils. Darkness… and the moment his lips met hers, an explosion of color behind her eyelids.
She’d wanted this. For how long, Vi didn’t quite know. But she wanted to feel him next to her, his hand shifting to rest on her waist, the other still on her face. She wanted to feel the embroidery of his coat under her fingers and not simultaneously feel the pressure to let go.
Nothing was guaranteed or certain. The world would rob them blind on a whim. Romulin had said to savor what they had before them and, like always, he was right.
He had Andru.
And Vi had Taavin.
Chapter Fourteen
She was stiff, as was he.
They both stood rigidly against each other, struggling to move and simultaneously afraid that if they did it would bring an end to this moment. His lips hardly moved. They quivered under hers as Taavin drew a shaky breath across her mouth, his barely far enough away to find air.
Then, it was his turn to kiss her.
Vi wasn’t sure how she’d known his intent, but she had. Every bit of her sensed his want to initiate before he’d even begun to move. He’d wanted to capture what he’d been yearning for just as she had. She allowed her mouth to be consumed by his and savored each new, thrilling sensation.
More confident, his lips parted slightly, begging hers open. A small sigh escaped her lips as they shifted, wet and warm, against his. Worries melted from her mind, trickling down her spine and leaving bumps in their wake, before pooling low in her stomach, transformed there into something wonderful.
His touch had turned pain into pleasure. His lips, worry into delight. Everything faded but him and the feeling of his warmth—no longer frustratingly a step too far away.
The world was not about to be saved by a kiss.
But if it could’ve been, that would’ve been the kiss to save it.
When Vi finally pulled away, she was breathless. They hadn’t been kissing that long, she was certain of it. But she felt dizzy, and he looked as though he’d just run a marathon.
Blush suited him.
“Vi, I—” Taavin’s grip tightened on both her shoulders, before he pushed himself away from her. “We can’t. This, we can’t.”
“Why?” Vi asked, despite being halfway toward placing her mouth on his again. She wanted to do it over and over, to feel every way he moved and delight in it all. How had she gone so long in life without kissing? It was seven times as wonderful as Ellene had made it sound.
“Because we’re half a world away.” He brought a hand to his eyes and turned his back toward her, as though ashamed.
“And I’m going to come to you.”
“We belong to different worlds,” he said over his shoulder. “You’re a princess, and I’m the head of a religious order.”
“And we’re the Champion and the Voice—which seems way more important than any of those other titles.”
He turned to face her, trying to stare her down. Vi wouldn’t cower. “Bad things happen to those I’ve been foolish enough to entangle myself with—and I’ve never even risked being entangled romantically. I’ve no idea what could happen.”
“Well, at least we’re both new to romance,” she said with a small smile. He ignored her attempt at levity.
“Vi, this is serious.”
“I’m being serious.” She allowed the smile to slip from her face. “You say bad things happen… Well my mother is dying, my father may be dead, the world is ending. Just what else can get worse?”
“It can always get worse, I assure you,” he cautioned. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“I’m not afraid.” Vi took a step toward him.
“You should be.” Taavin’s voice had dropped low, almost growl-like. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“That seems a fool’s errand.” Vi grabbed his coat lapels, feeling the supple fabric. “Don’t deny me this. This fire I feel between us is brighter than any magic I’ve ever known. You’re the only thing holding me together right now.”
“And you… you’re the only thing that has ever made me fall apart.”
All at once, his hand was in her hair again, his mouth crushed against hers. The kiss was clumsy, sloppy even. But it was also full of desire and yearning.
It was everything she needed.
A barrier had been broken down in her—a dam released. It had been holding back years of repressed desires and wants and everything else she refused to allow herself to feel. Now that Vi had torn it down, she was being swept downstream faster than she could recover.
Taavin pulled away once more. Vi pulled him back. She kissed him as if to devour him, teeth hitting awkwardly until they learned each other’s rhythm.
Finally, they pulled apart once more, and this time Vi merely searched his face. Her hands drifted upward, following her eyes, caressing his cheeks, up to his ears—feeling the strange way they pointed. She finally buried her fingers in his hair, all the while he merely stared at her.
“What now?” he whispered, breathless.
“Nothing changes, overall,” she confessed. “You’re still in Meru and I’m going to get to you.”
“Between us?”
“Tell me everything.” She dropped her hands to his chest once more, feeling the broad swathe of lean muscle. “Tell me of yourself, of the man I’ve been kissing. Hearing you’re the head of a religious order is a large part of who you are—and until now, I didn’t know. I feel you know almost everything about me.”
“You don’t want to know about me.”
“I do.”
Taavin sighed softly. Catching her hand, he brought it to his lips, placing a thoughtful kiss on her wrist. The movement sent shivers up her arm and neck.
“What is it you want to hear?”
“Tell me about your room. Describe it in detail.” Vi started there: something simple, harmless, easy to confess. “You’ve told me it was above Yargen’s flame… that
you can see Risen from your window.”
“Yes… I can see Risen from my window.” Taavin paused, looking toward her sitting area. He motioned for it and Vi led the way. Once they were settled, her side flush against his, he continued. “My room is shaped like an octagon.
“Through one set of doors, there is the entrance. Across from that is my bedroom, then a window, then my study, another window, my wash room, the entrance, and then a study area in the final two corners.
“The floor is wood, much the same as the room—octagonal and set against each other in a pattern…”
Vi’s eyes closed as she tried to envision it. In her mind, she constructed it not unlike her own chambers in the North. But his sounded… smaller. She painted it in soft grays and whites, just as he said, gilded with gold. A single shelf—mostly religious texts and works of his own writing—occupied one wall. At one end was a collection of watchmaking tools, a hobby he said he’d picked up years ago. Embellishments on the door panels depicted lore from The Word of the Goddess—a religious text she also now knew existed.
“It sounds beautiful,” she whispered when he finished.
“It is. A gorgeous prison.”
“Why do you say you’re imprisoned?” A protective streak, deeper than what she expected, ripped through her.
“I’ve told you.”
“In bits and pieces…” Vi shifted, turning to face him. She hesitated briefly before taking up his hand. It was odd to think about the lines they’d crossed… how it might change them. Could she kiss him freely now if she wanted to? How would she know if he wanted to kiss her back?
“On Meru, there is the Order of the Faithful, and the Voice is at their head.”
“So you’re like a king?”
He sighed, running his free hand through her hair. Vi enjoyed the way it smoothed through the dark strands, tugging lightly on her scalp as he teased through a knot. “It’s difficult to explain.”
“Try me, I’m not stupid.”
“Far from it,” he agreed quickly. “Meru has a Queen; the Queen is anointed by the Voice and the Faithful. She is the one who rules—”