by Elise Kova
“Until trade improves,” Vi began, and all eyes immediately swung to her. More than one councilmember looked surprised by her boldness. “Might I suggest we import additional rations from the East? I believe they are going to have a rather impressive year for grain; they might be able to spare more than they’re letting on, in an effort to conserve in case of a poor harvest next year. But I’m confident the Mother will bless their fields again.”
“And just who are you again?” Lord Twintle asked dully.
“My name is Yullia.”
“I didn’t ask for your name,” he drawled. “Let me put it more simply for you: why should we care about your thoughts? Especially since they are the thoughts of a criminal.”
Vi merely shrugged. “Care or don’t. I merely offer my wisdom.”
“And your wisdom is welcome,” Fiera insisted with a glance to Twintle. “Yullia is gifted with the goddess’s sight. Perhaps even more so than I.” There were several skeptical glances at that statement. “I am certain when she gives us her thoughts, they are worth listening to. I’ll speak with the Emperor regarding reaching out to the Lady of the East for additional supplies.”
“Perhaps in that same missive he can introduce me to her,” Ophain suggested from Fiera’s right. “As I might need to deal with her directly in the coming years.”
“I’ll bring it up.” Fiera nodded to her brother.
Vi studied Ophain as he leaned forward, making a few notes in his personal ledger. He seemed to be taking the situation with surprising grace. Then again, he was heir to the last king of the West and had somehow escaped being murdered following the end of the war. That would be enough to make anyone grateful.
“If we are thinking of asking the East for further assistance, we should check the current storerooms to ensure our counts are accurate,” Denja, a councilor for commerce mused. She had a thick accent—one Vi couldn’t quite place. It didn’t sound entirely Western to her ears. “I have been sending messengers regularly, but I worry the Imperial soldiers have been dipping in without approval.”
“Imperial soldiers would never,” Zerian insisted.
“Then perhaps they haven’t been taking careful notes.” Denja smiled thinly.
“We shall go together,” Fiera suggested.
“Do you think that’s wise?” her brother asked.
“I’ve been shut up in this castle for too long.” Fiera sighed and collected her papers. “The engagement has been announced and the people should know I’m not being held hostage until my wedding day. Besides, I’ll have my knights with me.”
Her gaze lifted to Zira and Vi. They both gave a nod to the princess.
“Knights,” Twintle murmured. “But they’re not anymore, are they?”
“I’ve yet to decide what the fate of the Knights of Jadar will be,” Fiera said. She quickly returned the conversation to its previous topic, looking to Denja. “Do you have time now?”
“Of course, your highness.” When the councilor bowed her head, the beads attached to the ornate headscarf she wore clanked softly.
“Excellent. I leave the other matters in Ophain’s capable hands.” Fiera started around the table. Denja, Vi, and Zira following behind.
“Where are you from, Yullia?” Denja asked as they walked. “You speak Southern Common and Mhashanese quite well.”
“I’ve been gifted with languages,” Vi said honestly. When Denja continued to stare expectantly at her, Vi knew she hadn’t dodged the initial question. “I’ve traveled all over. I’ve never quite had a home and couldn’t tell you where I was born or who my parents were.” Vi kept Taavin’s words in mind as she danced around the question; telling people who she was could have unintended consequences.
“How heartbreaking, an orphan alone in the world.” Denja didn’t sound for a moment like she was genuinely sympathetic. “And now you stand in direct service to one of the most powerful people on this continent. That’s extraordinarily lucky.”
This continent. The words stuck out to Vi like an absent compass rose on a map.
“And where are you from?” Vi asked, trying to keep her voice light. “You have the bright blue eyes of a Southerner.” So blue they almost had hints of purple.
“I am from the south of Mhashan,” she answered easily. “Right along the border. Some Southern blood made it into my family tree.”
“I see.” Vi didn’t trust those unnaturally colored eyes, full of suspicious knowing. But for now, Vi put the sense behind her. She had other things to focus on—like getting a moment with Fiera to discuss the sword.
They stepped out into the royal stables and continued out toward the drawbridge that connected the castle to the city. However, before they could depart, an Imperial soldier blocked their way.
“Your highness, do you require a guard detail into the city today?”
“I already have my guards,” Fiera motioned to Vi and Zira.
Even though Fiera’s unspoken dismissal was clear, the soldier didn’t move. “The Emperor has insisted that you are to be protected at all times.”
“And I have told you that I will be. And I am quite able to protect myself, thank you.” Fiera patted the steel sword on her hip and looked the man up and down. “I’d venture I was training long before you ever even saw a sword.”
He pursed his lips together but managed to squeeze out, “This is an order from the Emperor.”
“And I am the future Empress,” Fiera retorted. “I wish to go out into my city without a pack of soldiers around me. The war is over, sir, and the people should know it.”
“The city is unsafe.”
“What do you know of the city?” Zira asked, a lazy grin on her face. “I think her highness and all her advisors have a clear sense of just how dangerous it is or isn’t.”
“Now, stand aside,” Fiera ordered firmly. “If the Emperor has a problem, he’ll take it up with me.”
“Yes, your highness.” The soldier finally relented and stepped aside. Vi could feel him and the others in his squadron watching as the four women passed.
“Do you think it’s actually dangerous?” Denja asked.
“They’re Southern. Judging by their sunburnt cheeks, they’ll likely try and claim the sun itself is dangerous,” Zira remarked dryly.
Fiera let out a low chuckle. “Perhaps, for soldiers, the city poses some threat. But I want the people to see me among them without Southerners surrounding me. To know that the Mhashan they once knew has not vanished, regardless of its name—and that I am still with them, regardless of mine.”
After a beat of what felt like companionable silence, Vi cleared her throat. “Speaking of Mhashan,” she began delicately. “The Knights of Jadar…”
“Don’t start sounding like Twintle,” Zira muttered with a roll of her eyes. “The man is relentless.”
“Of course he is. He’s one of the last living commanders of the Knights.” Fiera sighed heavily. “It was an honor he doesn’t want to see stripped.”
Vi’s stomach flipped on the thought and settled the wrong way. She couldn’t recall Lord Twintle in any of her readings or discussions, but that didn’t make him unimportant. From this point on, in Vi’s world, the Knights had devolved into a shadowy, separatist organization that stood against her family.
“I don’t wish to speak about the Knights a moment longer. That is my burden and decision. No need to cloud our otherwise good day with it.” The note of finality in Fiera’s voice brooked no protest. “Denja, can you please outline our goal for this excursion?”
“Certainly, your highness. There are new stores for grains and other supplies brought in by the Empire around where the old wall used to be…”
Vi tried to pay attention to the conversation with half an ear, but her eyes were on the houses around them. The dictates of martial law were being lifted bit by bit; citizens were getting a few more hours each day to be about. But this hour was not one of them, and the city felt like a ghost town.
She glanced
over her shoulder, unable to shake the perpetual feeling of someone watching them. The silence in a city so large was eerie—an unwelcome fifth companion.
Slowing, Vi caught Zira’s eye and the woman adjusted her pace until the two of them were side by side. Denja and Fiera took the lead, talking about current stocks and trade. Vi kept her voice hushed.
“Zira, do you feel like someone is watching us?”
“I feel like a thousand someones are watching us.” Zira looked to the upper floors of the buildings around them. Vi saw a curtain abruptly close in one of the windows. “But that is the point of this, as our princess has decreed.”
“Yes but…” Vi couldn’t put her finger on the uneasy feeling that crackled up her spine like the phantom sensation of the red magic of an evil god. It was akin to the nervous energy she’d felt before sailing into Adela’s stronghold. “I can’t shake the feeling that something is about to happen.”
“Should we head back to the castle?” The question was genuine, and Vi appreciated it down to her toes. Zira had no reason to give her so much faith, especially not when her worries were ambiguous.
“No, I don’t want to turn us around for a mere feeling.” Vi shook her head and tried to shake the sensations with it, but they clung to her like leeches. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
The four made it without incident to the storehouses. Vi felt far better the moment she saw the Imperial guards standing out front of the large barn-shaped buildings. Vi and Zira walked a quick perimeter as Denja and Fiera consulted with the quartermaster. The whole affair took less than an hour and was blessedly over without incident. They were on their way back when bells tolled over the city, reigniting Vi’s paranoia.
“The citizens are allowed out for an hour after the bells,” Zira explained.
Sure enough, doors began to open and people wandered, blinking into the streets. They seemed dazed, their senses dulled by long hours cooped up inside. One by one, they turned their faces skyward; the sun was the first thing their eyes met, as if to burn away the haze in their eyes. As if to greet it like an old friend. For the first block, none of the people even noticed the princess in their midst.
“Y-Your highness.” A woman was the first to turn their way. “You are free.” She dropped to her knees.
“As I have always been. As are we all.”
“The conqueror… what has he done to you, m’lady?” another young woman dared to ask.
“Only steal my heart.” Fiera gave a smile so tender and warm it could melt ice.
One look, and Vi nearly forgot all her prior questions about the genuineness of Fiera’s love for Tiberus—only to have them rushing back even stronger. Did she have a genuine smile? Or was it the look of someone desperate to save their home—someone who knew the safety of her people depended on them believing a beautiful lie?
It wasn’t her business, Vi tried to remember. She was here for the crystal weapons. She had enough on her plate when it came to love.
“He has stolen your heart, and your fire.” A male voice cut through Vi’s thoughts. The little crowd collecting around Fiera suddenly seemed far larger as Vi searched for the speaker. “The Fiera who led the Knights of Jadar, who was truly blessed by the Mother above, would’ve never given into the false sun.”
Vi’s eyes settled on the man, who had short black hair and a closely trimmed mustache. Zira took a step closer to Fiera, situating herself between the princess and her detractor.
“You might not be able to understand,” Fiera said, keeping her composure rock-solid and voice as soft as feathers, “but I truly do love him. He brightens my fire. And I will ensure he protect us all.”
Motion from Vi’s left caught her eye.
Like a bull rushing forward, a cloaked man pushed through the crowd. Vi’s eyes barely had time to land on a flash of silver. Zira wasn’t moving and wouldn’t notice in time, Denja had yet to react, Fiera was looking the other way—
“Mysst soto larrk,” Vi hissed under her breath, moving as she spoke. She drew her hand across her chest, moving as though she was drawing the blade from a hidden sheathe in her sleeve. Vi hoped it was enough to hide the flash of the glyph that created the weapon she now held.
Steel met steel as Vi pushed Fiera aside, stopping the assassin’s blade. But the hooded man paid her no heed. Instead, his dark gaze swung to Fiera.
“You should’ve died with your father,” he uttered darkly. “Traitor.”
Chapter Nine
The words were the man’s last.
The hand-guard of Vi’s dagger was flush to his blade. She slid it upward, the short pommel of hers butting against his. Vi used the force to beat the blade away; she had momentum, and the man was caught off-guard by the sudden assault.
Twisting, Vi threw her body into a lunge and sank her blade into his ear. As Vi withdrew, he crumpled.
She spun in place. Zira had already engaged the man who had first drawn their attention and had him on the ground in an instant. People were screaming, fleeing; chaos radiated around them, but Vi’s eyes scanned the windows and rooftops. The memory of the Knight’s attempt on her mother’s life at the Crossroads was suddenly fresh and—
Motion caught her eye.
Vi lifted a hand and sent a tendril of flame in a burst toward a rooftop. She used the motion to release her dagger back into her sleeve, the flash of fire and fabric hiding the unraveling remnants of light. Whoever had been on the roof darted away and didn’t return to the building’s edge. Vi linked arms with Fiera, briefly startled by how warm the woman was to her touch.
“Your highness, we must move you—”
“I will not be moved.” Fiera pulled her arm back, an offended expression at being manhandled briefly taking over her features. She spun in place, looking to the man Zira held at sword-point on the ground. The princess crossed over like a beast stalking prey. “Who sent you?”
“No one sent us.” The man narrowed his eyes at Fiera. “We didn’t need to be sent by anyone, because we no longer need a leader. We shall lead ourselves as we stand by our mission—to defend Mhashan from Southern invaders.”
“The war is over.”
“The war is only beginning.” A smile spread across his mouth. “Kill me, like you did the other Knights of Jadar. Those who made the mistake of being loyal to you until the end.”
“You are not my knight,” Fiera whispered.
Vi continued to scan the buildings. Denja, for her part, remained incredibly calm—far calmer than Vi would have expected from a commerce minister. Vi’s attention landed on her and they locked eyes for a long moment.
Denja had been the one to suggest going to the storerooms, hadn’t she? It wouldn’t have been hard to find dissenters and organize an attack with a few hours’ notice.
“No, I am not your knight. I am Mhashan’s Knight, one of the true Knights of Jadar,” the man insisted. “We have broken free of you. We do not need your orders.”
“You speak treason like it delights you.”
“Truth is what delights me.”
“I will not give you another chance to—”
“No, you won’t,” the man interrupted. “Just like you did not give your once-loyal Knights another chance on the docks that night.”
Vi frowned. Of course word would spread of what had happened at the docks. Most likely, Luke or Kahrin had started the rumors—Zira wouldn’t. Luke was Twintle’s son and Twintle could connect back to Denja. Lines of betrayal unfolded like a deadly map before her, one where a single misstep would lead one to death.
“What will it be, princess?” the man continued. The commoners watched from a wide distance. “Will you—”
Fiera clamped her hand over the man’s mouth. Fire poured from between her fingers and down his throat. Vi did not grimace or turn away; this was how Jax had described her father’s method for killing people.
Vi wondered if Aldrik was even aware of the similarity with his late mother. That the action was a dark, unlikely, perhaps
even unintentional connection between them.
The man collapsed to the ground, his skin red and bubbling as Fiera straightened away. She smoothed out her clothes and tossed her hair over her shoulder, starting for the castle without a backward glance.
“No one touch them,” Fiera declared as they passed the ring of wide-eyed onlookers. “Do not burn them this evening for a Rite of Sunset. I want them to be strung up and branded as traitors. Let there be no doubt that my Empire has no room for those who stand against me. The only true knights are those at my side.”
Every man and woman seemed to hold their breath while Fiera’s eyes were on them. They were utterly captive to their fear. And while Vi could see a certain amount of shock in their stares, she was keenly aware that none of them seemed surprised.
Fiera was a double-edged sword. One side of her could slice through a man’s most iron-clad defenses with startling sweetness. The other side of her could cut a man down beginning with his ankles and working up from there.
The most fearsome thing was that Fiera clearly knew what she was, and had learned to wield her skills with deadly precision.
“Knights of Jadar,” Fiera muttered, pacing her personal quarters and worrying the heavy silver ring on her finger. Immediately after returning to the castle, Fiera had made her will known regarding the bodies of the traitors, sent Denja away, and summoned Vi and Zira to her rooms. “They called themselves ‘true Knights of Jadar.’”
“They wouldn’t be able to pass even the initial tests to become a Knight,” Zira muttered. She lounged in a large wingback chair by one of the windows of Fiera’s room, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. “They are cutthroats turned opportunists.”
“They make a mockery of my family.” Fiera clenched her hands into fists so tightly they trembled. Tiny tendrils of flame snaked through the air around them. “Being a Knight of Jadar was the greatest honor in all the West.”