by Elise Kova
“Thank you.” Vi started behind her.
Jayme took a hasty step to Vi’s side. “You’ll be what?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Vi said softly.
“You’d better. Remember, you promised to tell me everything. All I want is to do my job and protect you.”
“I will tell you, the first chance I get,” Vi whispered hastily and then started up the stairs behind the maid. She just didn’t know if she’d ever have the chance… so it wasn’t technically a lie.
The maid took Vi up the stairs to the second floor and down a small interior hallway lit by sconces. Each iron dish jutted out from the wall like a small stage for the tiny flames they carried to dance in magically.
“This will be your room.” The maid stopped at the door at the end of the hall and opened it.
Light flooded the hall as Vi found herself looking once more at one of the large circular windows of the building’s front, but this time from the inside.
It was like a fractured rainbow had been spilled on the floor, all the colors of the stained glass falling over the seating area right before the window. They stretched toward Vi’s feet, and out to her right in the direction of a tall working table—similar to what she’d been given in her tent. To the left stood a modest bar. Also to the left were a pair of intricately carved wooden doors, detail so fine that Vi could almost feel the tingle of magic from the Groundbreaker’s hands still on them.
“It is beautiful.”
“I’ll tell Lord Etton so.” The maid dipped into another curtsy at the praise. “Your things will be brought up shortly. Is there anything else I can do for you right now?”
“No, I think I can manage from here.” A few moments of uninterrupted silence actually sounded blissful. Yet the woman lingered, her eyes looking around the room, landing on Vi, and then fluttering off like two black hummingbirds, unable to stay in one location for too long. It reminded her of Andru. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“What?” The woman seemed actually taken aback. “Oh, no, forgive me, princess, I didn’t mean—”
“It’s good that I don’t seem to be the only one losing herself in thought today. Especially given all that happened in the square,” Vi interrupted gently. Her words landed right where she’d hoped they would, and the woman’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
With a breath, the maid finally seemed to manage what had clearly been absorbing her attention the whole time. “It’s good to have you here, my lady. Truly.”
“It’s truly good to be here.” Vi wished her royal instinct hadn’t kicked in. It seemed awkward to say, given all that had transpired.
“No, I misspeak.” The woman shook her head, sighed at herself, and then tried one more time. It was her turn for the words to land. “Here, in this room. This was where your father stayed, whenever he passed through the Crossroads on visits to the West.”
“Here?” Vi whispered.
“This room.” The woman nodded. “His… news of him…” She shook her head, mouth pressing into a grief-stricken line. “It hit the West hard, my lady. So seeing you, here. It restores faith for all of us that we still have a place in this Empire.”
“Of course you do, regardless of which Solaris sits on the throne.”
The maid simply smiled. Vi saw lines she hadn’t noticed before, a tuft of gray hair poking out from underneath her head scarf, a boniness to her hands that betrayed age as much as strength. How old was she? Not old enough to remember the West as an independent nation. But perhaps old enough to remember growing up in a recently annexed territory.
“Do call if you need anything, princess.” The woman dismissed herself, closing the door behind her.
Vi turned back into the room; suddenly, everything seemed alive.
The motes of dust in the air were like fire. They sparkled in the sunlight, illuminating corners. She ran her fingertips lightly over the bar, then the back of the low sofa, then the table, as she made a wide loop of the room.
Her father had been here. She was already one step closer to him.
Vi stopped at the table. She fished out an iron key from her pocket, one she’d been diligently carrying halfway across the continent. Placing it down, Vi stared at it.
“Well, I’m here,” Vi said to the object. “Now the real work begins.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Narro hath hoolo.” Vi uttered the incantation the moment the door closed behind her that evening. Usually, when she did, Taavin would first look at his new surroundings. But this time, he looked only at her.
So many things had been left unspoken between them—what were they, really? What could they be? Vi didn’t have the answers, so she didn’t concern herself too much with the questions. Right now, she wanted to savor the appearance of him and the way he seemed to freeze her in place and set every nerve on fire all at the same time.
“You’ve made it to the Crossroads, then?” His eyes finally left her, though only briefly.
“Yes.”
“You’re ready to leave?” His attention landed on the bag at her feet.
“I think so… I’ve packed everything I can think to bring. I took some food back from dinner, so I have some initial rations. I have some coin for the road. Clothes, of course. A journal with notes I took on the seas after my father went missing, and a map.” Vi looked back to him. “Can you think of anything I’m missing?”
“No, but seeing as I’ve never exactly gone on a trip before, I may not be the best person to ask.” Finally his eyes pulled from the bag to her. Taavin took a step forward. “Vi, I find you incredibly brave.”
“I haven’t done anything brave yet.”
“I disagree.” Another step closer. “And I think what you are about to do—leaving it all behind for the sake of our world—is the bravest thing you could do.”
“Or the most selfish. I have a very vested stake in that world, after all.” It felt oddly uncomfortable to let the compliment from him stick. Especially when part of her still felt like leaving her Empire was the most selfish possible maneuver. Ultimately, the outcome of her gamble would determine how history remembered her: brave or selfish. Loved or hated.
“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late for you to turn back.”
“And leave my father out there? Leave a cure unfound?” Vi swallowed. Taavin had continued his approach and they now stood toe to toe. Her voice was quieter when she spoke again. “Never meet you in person? Touch you in person?”
Taavin lifted her hand gently, spreading his fingers against hers, palm to palm.
“This feels real enough to me.”
Vi opened her mouth, but words failed her. How many layers were there to that sentiment? More than she could pick apart.
Before she could try, there was a knock on her door.
“It’s my brother,” Vi whispered. “I want some time with him… alone.”
“I understand.” With that, Taavin disappeared.
“Romulin,” she said as she opened the door. He stood in simple nightclothes—loose fitting pants, a belted robe over a shirt—all in shades of Solaris blue and Imperial white. Vi was dressed all in black, ready for the road. “You came.”
“I did.” He looked her up and down, much as she did him. “You’re really leaving.”
“I am.” It wasn’t a question, so Vi didn’t attempt to dodge an honest answer. “Come in.”
“You’re going to die, too,” he mumbled as he entered. Vi glanced around the hall, seeing no one, and closed the door behind him.
“I’m going to find Father,” she vowed. “And a cure for Mother.”
“You’re just running away from the throne.” He frowned. It was harsh and callous… and, in its own way, completely right.
“Not intentionally so. Well, it’s not my primary motivation.”
“But you are, and you’re leaving me saddled with it.” He stormed over to the window, resting a hand on the wooden frame, staring out listlessly.
Vi studied him. She had been wrong—it added up in her mind all at once. Everyone wanted Romulin to sit the throne, but he’d never desired the honor. Perhaps all his careful advising was to ensure he would never be forced to assume the mantle.
Crossing over to him, Vi rested her hand on her brother’s shoulder, looking out the window also.
“You were made to rule,” she whispered. “You’re far more suited for it than I, and you have the support of the people. I don’t. I don’t know if I ever truly wanted the throne, or if I merely wanted the family that came with it.”
“If you want the family, stay with us—with me.” His voice was suddenly small, the command almost weak. “Aren’t I your family? Don’t I deserve family too?”
“You are—you do. That’s why I’m going to find—”
“Then why are you leaving me alone? Mother will die. You will die. And Father… Father is… If he’s not dead, he’ll die because you’ll die on the way to get him, and I will be alone. I won’t even have Andru. I’ll be forced to marry a woman to produce an heir because I’ll be the Emperor and that’s what’s required.” The words weren’t said in a fit of emotion or rage. They were uttered calmly and quietly as though they were facts he’d long since come to terms with. “Stay, Vi.”
“You know I can’t.” Her chest ached as it tried to contort in a way that would allow her to accomplish two diametrically opposed goals. “Please understand.”
“You know I can’t,” he whispered.
“You will in time,” she said confidently. Vi squeezed his shoulder. “Rule well until I return with Father. Keep the throne warm for him and me. Then, I promise I’ll take it back, and I’ll wed, and produce all the heirs the Empire could ever want so none shall blink at the notion if you run away with Andru.”
A smile cracked through his bleak expression.
“But please don’t actually run away, because I’m going to need you both to help me with that brood.”
“Assuming we have not adopted children of our own.” Romulin rested his temple on her shoulder and Vi shifted her arm around him.
“Well, if you’re doing that, then I’ll just see to changing the laws that the heir must be by blood and then have no children of my own.”
They both shared a small laugh at that. Romulin’s arm snaked around her waist and they stood together quietly.
“I’m sorry for being tense around you, sister. I hadn’t wanted our meeting to go like this.”
“Me neither. But I understand… these are tense circumstances.” Vi gave him a small shake. “When I return, we’ll both have time to relax. Maybe even take a trip down to Oparium with Andru and stay at the summer manor. Jax has told me rumors of caves connecting to it that I’d love to mark on my maps.”
“Always with your maps.”
“I’ll have so much more to show you of Meru, too.”
Romulin pulled away, starting for the door. “You do know I don’t like this, even still.”
“I know.” Her heart sank; she thought they’d reached an understanding.
“But I’m going to allow it on one condition.” He stopped, his back to her. “You find Father and bring him back.”
“I swear.” Vi started over, grabbing her pack on the way, as he turned to face her. They embraced tightly. “I swear.”
“Good. Now you should get going, while the night is young. I’ll do my best to cover for you here, keep them busy come dawn for as long as possible.”
“Thank you,” Vi whispered as he pulled away. Her eyes were prickling, but Vi refused to allow herself to cry. She needed to keep her composure—be strong for her and him both. “Will you cover while I sneak out through the lobby? Make a distraction?”
He shook his head.
“What? I thought—”
“There’s a better way for you to leave.” He walked behind the small bar in the common area of her room. On the second shelf, he counted three bottles in from the left. Vi watched, fascinated, as his fingers closed around the glass neck of the unassuming bottle. It looked just the same as the others—mostly full and freshly polished. At least, until he went to lift it off the shelf.
The bottle did not move up, but forward, connected to a hidden latch on the shelf beneath. She heard the soft click of a lock disengaging. Vi stared in wonder, pulling open the whole shelf to reveal a secret passage.
“How did you…”
“When you came up here to presumably pack… I stayed after at dinner. The adults drank far too much and reminisced.”
“As they do.” Vi had seen as much when her mother and Jax, and Elecia and Jax, had been together in the North. She could only imagine how it was when the three of them were all in one spot.
“Yes, well apparently, Father did not enjoy feeling trapped in a space and requested this room specifically for that reason.” Romulin’s fair skin turned scarlet. “They wouldn’t stop teasing about Mother sneaking in through this passage.”
Vi’s reaction was a cross between a grimace and a laugh. She did not want to think of her parents as rebellious, young, and full of desire. But it was also amusing to picture them that way, so free compared to the composed, careful adults they’d been forced to become.
“If you leave through here, no one will know you’re gone until some time after breakfast. I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well this eve, and to give you time to sleep. I’ll try to delay as long as possible.”
She looked at her brother. For all he said he didn’t want her to go, he was doing everything in his power to help her. Perhaps some part of him did want to see her venture forward, claim a freedom neither of them had. Find their father for the good of their family and their Empire.
Or… perhaps… love in all its forms was simply complicated. And for all he did not want her to go, he loved her and wanted to support her. Would she not do the same for him if the roles were reversed?
“I love you, brother,” Vi whispered, pulling him close one final time.
“I love you, sister. Don’t forget your promises. Now, go… get a head start on the hounds they’re going to send after you.”
He all but pushed her into the narrow tunnel. Vi tripped on the sloping path, and caught her balance on the rough wall. She turned to get one last look at her brother before he closed the shelf behind her.
Lifting her hand, Vi uncurled her fingers and allowed the spark to lift off her skin, and ignite into a full flame. She lowered her hand away and the flame continued to hover right where she’d placed it, happily burning near her shoulder and giving light to the darkness. It was enough to scare away the shadows, but not enough to cast aside the thick curtains of cobwebs and what looked like years of dust that had settled on the stairs.
She stifled a cough, waving away the remnants of spiders—even they seemed to have abandoned the place. The passage was long and she had no idea what rooms it was nestled between. When she reached the end, a door blocked her path. Vi ran her hand over the smooth plate of metal—a Firebearer’s lock.
Placing her hand on the strip of metal, Vi took a deep breath and cut off the funnel of magic to the flame over her shoulder. This would be easier to do as a Firebearer than risk blowing off the whole door with juth. She pushed her magic into her palm—just enough, she commanded mentally.
Her overabundance of care made it agonizingly slow, but the metal eventually heated to the point where a soft, reddish glow began to illuminate the passage once more. When it was molten hot, Vi pushed, her feet scraping against the stone as she sought to put all her weight against the heavy door.
It gave way, and she breathed a deep breath of fresh desert air.
Vi turned, settling the door closed as softly as possible, pressing it flush once more. The door was one-way. On the outside it was nothing more than smooth stone about to nestle into place with the wall.
“Good thing I wasn’t going back in,” she mumbled as she caught her bearings.
The narrow alleyway the door had put her in
dead-ended against the other buildings on one end, the center of the Crossroads on the other. Vi pulled up the scarf around her neck, situating it to conceal her face as much as possible. She gave herself one last assessment before stepping out into the light of the street lamps.
Her clothes were of fine make, but she didn’t think they screamed “princess”. Her face was shadowed and covered, the scarf she used was sun-bleached and worn from the desert. And, more than any of that, she was alone. No one expected to see the Princess Solaris alone, so hopefully they’d see no one at all when they looked at her.
Vi stepped into the main Crossroads and immediately headed right, away from the hotel.
She hugged the walls of darkened storefronts and avoided the welcoming glow of street lamps as though they were stage spotlights that could betray her. Her hands continually adjusted her headscarf, making sure that it was safely in place, and she felt her entire body tense whenever a passerby’s feet entered her field of vision.
Her heart was in her throat the entire time, yet nothing happened. She began to feel easier as she rounded the corner to the East-West Way—the great street that connected Norin, capital of the West, with Hastan, capital of the East. Along this street was the great market of the Crossroads.
She pulled the key from her pocket, looking at the now familiar iron rose at one end. The woman had said the curiosity shop was somewhere along here, and the embellishment on the key was all she had to go on. She began walking the streets, crammed even in darkness with empty stalls, archways, and sunshades that offered protection from moonlight.
There were doors by doors by doors, all nestled in every way they could be conceived to fit—like crooked teeth in a too-small mouth. They were wedged between stalls and cornered at alleyways. Vi studied the lock on each one, the signs, the embellishments.
Her feet came to a stop.
Across the narrowed street was an unassuming iron gate. Thorny bars knotted together to ward away anyone from even so much as leaning on it. They came together at face-height to fold into a rose insignia that was rendered with alarmingly life-like detail.