by Elise Kova
“I doubt they would be,” Vi said cautiously.
“If you’re truly are here on behalf of the Goddess, it’s my duty to assist you. Tell me how I can do that.”
“Information,” Vi said after a moment. “You’ve been ingrained in this world longer than I have. I need information on people, specifically the Knights of Jadar and those associated with them before the fall of Mhashan. They’ve already begun moving against the sword.”
Deneya thought about this, humming softly. Then, as if her mental tally came up with the same answer Vi already knew, she gave a nod. “They haven’t been too pleased with Fiera’s engagement.”
“If their attack on the street is any indication.”
“That’s only the start of the whispers I’ve heard.”
“Oh?”
“Information gathering is part of my duty to the queen. I go out at night and sit in taverns. Most don’t recognize me, so I hear murmurs of the citizenry. Some seem content—they’re happy the war is over. But others are more in line with the thinking of the old king. They’d rather burn than bend the knee. They see Fiera doing so as the ultimate betrayal.”
“Foolish…” Vi mumbled. They couldn’t see, or were willfully ignoring, that Fiera’s engagement was likely what saved them all. And was possibly the ultimate sacrifice on her part—to be married to a man who had conquered her land for the sake of her people.
“I’m sure the rumors will get worse when the soldiers are set free. A lot of the Knights are still in there. I’ll work on procuring the full roster of names for you.”
“Thank you,” Vi managed, somewhat surprised by the sudden kindness. “Let me know when you have it.” Vi moved to leave, but Deneya held her hand firmly, almost yanking her back.
“Be careful,” Deneya said solemnly. “Getting close to the royal family without having eyes on me took me years. You’ve ascended swiftly and publicly… They’re already whispering about you.”
“I’m not worried,” Vi lied. In fact, she was suddenly very worried. This whole time her eyes had been on Fiera, at the expense of noticing who had their eyes on her. “I have this under control.”
Vi hefted the Sword of Jadar overhead and brought it down in a vertical slice. She slid her feet to the side, dancing around an unseen opponent, drawing the blade in a side slash. She stepped back, shifted her grip, and thrust forward into a lunge. Her movements were slow and deliberate, more meditation than combat.
Soon enough, Deneya would arrive to go over the list of Knights she’d procured. And before then, Vi needed to speak with Taavin.
She went to put the blade on the table, pausing. The vision of the Champion splitting the staff remained ever-present in her mind. How had he known how to do that? Vi tried to push the question from her mind, uttering, “Narro hath hoolo.”
“You’re back here again.” Taavin looked around.
“Yes. I’ve been doing just as you asked for the past two months and laying low.” She stared at the sheathed weapon on the wall. Despite herself, the memories of the last Champion still lingered. “Taavin… do you think there’s a way to manipulate the crystal?”
“Why do you ask?”
“My last vision… the last Champion split the staff. Do you think I could split the sword?”
“We’re trying to preserve Yargen’s power, not split it,” he needlessly reminded.
“What if—”
They were interrupted by Deneya emerging through the flames at the entrance to the small room. The woman’s bright blue and purple-rimmed eyes darted between them.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“It’s all right. Tell me what you’ve found?”
“You’re not going to like it.” Deneya frowned. “The Knights of Jadar are picking right back up where they left off. Nearly all of them.”
“How so?”
“They’ve been gathering at Twintle’s house at odd hours.”
“When?”
“In secret, at night… I’ve reason to believe they’re meeting right now.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Vi started for the flames. “We should go and see what they’re—”
Taavin stopped her by grabbing her hand with his ghostly grip. Vi swung around to face him. Her heart began to beat faster, already knowing what he was about to say.
“No.”
“But—”
“No,” Taavin said more firmly. “Our goal is not the Knights of Jadar.”
“The Knights of Jadar are trying to take the sword. They’re likely plotting it right now. Knowing what they’re scheming will only help us.”
“She has a point,” Deneya muttered, and Vi liked her that much more for it.
“You know why you can’t.” Taavin leveled her a look that told Vi everything.
She couldn’t, because her rebirth wasn’t yet assured. She hadn’t given the watch to Vhalla Yarl yet. So there was no guarantee of a new Vi Solaris, a new Champion, if she failed.
If she failed.
“What if this is what I need to do for us to succeed, and I’m not, because we’re being so cautious?” Her words were softer than she expected, nearly pleading.
“What we need to do to succeed is keep the sword safe.”
“And if we know what the Knights are doing, then—”
“I don’t want to see you risking your life. I can’t live with that knowledge,” he added, softer. Vi hated his tenderness and how it quelled her frustrated anger.
“Hello.” Deneya waved, drawing both of their attention. “Yes, hi, I’m still here.” She smiled broadly. “How about this? If you can’t go for… whatever reasons the Voice has, I’ll go in your stead? I’ll just keep watching them as I have.”
“A fine suggestion,” Taavin said. He had yet to release Vi’s hand.
Both eyes were on her. Vi bit the insides of her cheeks, but finally said, “Fine, go now… and let me know what happens.”
“They’ll be none the wiser, I promise! Wein!” Deneya dashed through the flames, gone as quickly as she’d come.
Vi stared at the fire, her hand still in Taavin’s. When he finally released it, it fell limply at her side.
“What is my purpose here?” she whispered.
“To protect the Crystal Caverns.”
“Is it?” Vi spun, rounding on him. Fire was alive in her, burning down her arms, cracking into life around her knuckles. “Or am I just a vessel shepherding us into another repeat of the world’s end?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you must let me act. The Knights of Jadar are gaining strength while I help Fiera pick out flowers for the Cathedral of the Sun and minstrels for the reception. They are going to act against my family for generations. They will kill her if I don’t stop them.”
“Your only focus should be the sword,” Taavin reminded her gravely. “What happens to everyone else—Fiera, Zira, Tiberus—is not your concern.”
“They are my family!”
“Your family is gone and will never come back!”
The words echoed through her ears; Vi staggered back. She swayed, but righted herself. A buzzing sound vibrated her brain and the world blurred for a moment, tilting in a sickening way. He’d only spoken the truth, a truth she’d known. Why did it hurt so much?
“Vi, I’m sorry,” Taavin said hastily.
“No,” Vi whispered. “You’re right.” She forced a smile, but felt her cheeks curve into what was certainly more of a snarl. “My family is gone, and I’m clearly a fool for caring about these people.”
“That’s not—”
“Leave me.” Vi waved her hand and released the glyph. Blissful silence filled the air as Vi was left alone with the sword. She stared at it, wondering how a single object could cause so much pain.
Vi approached the weapon slowly. Her eyes were on the sword, but her mind was on the Knights of Jadar. While she was here, waiting, they were plotting. Everyone else was acting as Vi drifted along.
T
his feeling was worse than being in bed for a month with autumn fever. Worse than waiting her whole life for her family to retrieve her.
“Nothing good comes of a Solaris with a crystal weapon,” Vi murmured, putting her hand on the scabbard. “You were right, Father.”
She hung her head and felt her eyes burn. Vi took a shaky breath, and then another. She remained like that until her muscles were stiff and her feet ached. She stayed in that tucked-away armory room for so long, the sun was streaming through the windows as she made her way back to her quarters.
There she remained until she was certain she wouldn’t betray Taavin’s trust and run off after Deneya.
Chapter Fourteen
Vi stared out the window at Norin. For months, it had been slowly blossoming before her eyes like a bloom that had been trapped in the permafrost of war now poking through the snow. People were beginning to take to the streets again; the Western militia in its entirety had finally been freed of their confinement.
She was used to looking down at cities. She’d spent the vast majority of her life doing just that as she was kept in the fortress of Soricium. Now, it was Taavin’s caution keeping her here. She was relegated to council meetings, training grounds, and working with the crystal sword in secret, trying to figure out the depths of its power… As Deneya did the real work of keeping track of the Knights of Jadar and their ever-growing strength.
“… ask her again. I don’t think she’s listening,” Zira said from where she and Fiera stood.
“Yullia?” Fiera repeated herself.
Vi jerked. “Yes? Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, all this bores me to tears, too.” Zira collapsed into a chair, her long legs kicking out and falling limply over the armrest.
“It’s not that bad,” Fiera mumbled. “Yullia, I was wondering what you thought of the dress color. Of course, silver or red would be traditional Western colors, but white or gold would be more fitting from an Imperial standpoint.”
Vi walked over to the table, looking at the swatches of fabrics the royal tailors had sent for Fiera to review. The whole, cluttered mess represented what Vi had always expected of a royal wedding—a political headache where one misstep could be the difference between a smooth ascension and a long-term nightmare.
“If I’m honest, I think the white and gold is stunning.” Fiera lifted a scrap of fabric covered in layers of golden petals. In the light, it sparked almost like flames. She layered it atop pure white silk, humming. “Yet I worry it will ruffle a few feathers in the Western Court if I don’t show anything of home.”
“The Western Court is a relic now and they need to get over themselves,” Zira muttered, tipping her head back. If Vi had to bet, she would guess the woman found the toils of war easier to bear than wedding preparations.
“Even if Tiberus has formally disbanded the Crimson Court, they are still influential families in this land. And he also invited most of the members to be a part of the Southern Court whenever they choose to attend.”
“And how often do you think they’ll head south?” Zira asked dryly.
“That’s not up to me.” Fiera’s usually composed tone slipped to the edge of annoyance, prompting Zira to stare out the window as Vi had been. “Anyway, Yullia, what do you think?”
Vi took the fabrics from Fiera’s hands, feeling the sumptuous textiles between the pads of her fingers. Her clothes had once solely been made from cloth like this. Now, Vi felt as though she shouldn’t be touching them. She returned them to the table after only a few seconds.
“I’m inclined to agree with you—all white and gold could spell disaster. The nobility of the West finally seem to be settling with this idea, and you’ve ensured Mhashan you will still rule as their princess while being a Solaris.”
“She should wear what she wants,” Zira insisted. “It’s her wedding.”
“It’s not though,” Vi said before Fiera could get a word in. “She is a symbol first and everything here—” Vi swept her arm over the table “—conveys a message about what that symbol stands for.”
Zira blinked blankly at Vi. Her mouth opened, closed, and she looked away again. Vi turned back to Fiera only to be met with a strange expression.
“I hope I didn’t overstep.” Vi bowed her head.
“No, you stole the words from my mouth,” Fiera said brightly, patting her shoulder. “You really are a natural at the ways of diplomacy.” Vi snorted at that. “Now, my astute friend, tell me what color my dress will be.”
“How about a compromise? Wear gold on white for your dress. But then your jewelry could be silver and red.”
“Yes, a silver crown inlaid with Western rubies.” Fiera’s expression lit up at the idea.
A silver crown. The thought drifted through Vi’s mind on a memory. Her mother had held her once as she’d fallen asleep, indulging all of Vi’s then girlish curiosities on the details of her wedding to her father. She had worn a silver crown…
“I think a silver crown would be beautiful,” Vi said in a tone softened with nostalgia.
“It’s settled, then!” Fiera clapped her hands together. “I love it.”
“Excellent.” Zira pushed herself away from her chair. “Is that all we had for today?”
“For now.” Fiera placed a hand on her stomach. “I’m starving.”
“After all the breakfast you ate?” Zira gave her a startled look. “I wouldn’t eat for a month if I cleaned my plate like that.”
“Planning takes a lot of energy!” Fiera gave a laugh and started for the door alongside Zira.
Or she was already eating for two. Fiera had given birth to Aldrik in all-too-short a time after the wedding in Vi’s history. Just long enough that no one questioned her father’s legitimacy, especially since the Emperor had always acknowledged him as his son.
If she was pregnant, that meant they were headed along the same path as Vi’s world. Not that she could’ve expected it to have changed; she hadn’t done much to shift any fated events.
“Yullia, are you coming?” Fiera asked, pausing to glance over her shoulder.
“Yes, of course,” she said. What she really wanted to do was stay in that spot and beg Fiera to listen to her as Vi warned her against all that was to come. For it wouldn’t matter what dress she wore, or who she upset, if she was just going to end up dead before the year was up.
“Zira, while I’m at lunch, will you do me a favor and fetch the sword? Tiberus and I will be rehearsing the ceremony with the Crones this afternoon.”
“Why not just use a regular sword instead?” Vi asked. She didn’t like taking the sword out of its hiding place.
“I suggested as much,” Fiera sighed. “But Tiberus was insistent… He’s not been quiet about finally seeing the legendary Sword of Jadar. I hope if I indulge him some, it’ll lose its wonder.”
It never would, but Vi didn’t have the heart to tell Fiera that. “Are you rehearsing at the Cathedral of the Sun?”
“No, we’ll do it here.”
“At least it’s not leaving the castle, then.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Fiera gave them both a smile and passed the key to the armory over to Zira. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to keep Tiberus waiting.” Fiera turned, starting up the hall.
“Princess—” Zira began, quickly stopping herself.
“Yes?” Fiera looked startled at the outburst.
“It’s nothing.” Zira put her hands in her pockets and smiled. “Have a good lunch.”
Vi followed Zira down toward the armory. If the sword was being taken out of its hiding place, then she was going to stay glued to its side. But her thoughts wandered from the sword.
“What was that?” Vi finally asked, when it was clear Zira wasn’t about to say anything.
“What was what?”
“The thing you were going to ask Fiera.”
“It’s nothing.”
They arrived at the armory and Vi held her breath as Zira undid the lock, wai
ting to see if she noticed anything amiss. But if there was a sign of Vi’s nighttime experimentations and practice with the sword, Zira overlooked it. In fact, even as she took the sword off the wall, her gaze was a thousand miles away.
“Zira—”
“My family is here,” Zira finally let out with a heavy sigh. “My mother and daughter.”
“Raylynn?”
Zira froze for a full half-minute before turning slowly. “I don’t recall ever telling you my daughter’s name.”
“Perhaps you… forgot?”
“I think I’d remember.”
“Perhaps the Mother gave me a vision of the girl.”
“Did she…” Zira murmured, looking at Vi as if seeing her for the first time. “Perhaps you can help me.”
“With what?”
“Come, and let me tell you on the way.”
They strolled through the castle, winding down the now-familiar pathways. She ran her fingertips along the walls, feeling the grooves of the stone underneath her nails. There had been another Vi before her who had walked these halls. Had she made the same motions? Were her fingerprints running along the tracks of the fingerprints of ninety-two other Vis throughout time?
“A few years ago, Fiera told me that when she met Raylynn she would look into the girl’s future,” Zira started.
“Like a curiosity shop?”
“Yes, exactly. I made the mistake of telling Raylynn and now she won’t stop asking about it. I think that’s part of how she convinced my mother to drag her here.” Zira looked to Vi with pleading eyes. “I know I shouldn’t ask this. But I don’t want to trouble Fiera, not now, not with all that’s going on. And I know that five is a little young to scry into a child’s future, but—”
“I’ll do it,” Vi interrupted, touching the woman’s elbow. “I’ll pretend to be Fiera and try to peer into the future.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done to help me.” She smiled, hoping the expression hid her uncertainty. Unlike the future-seers at curiosity shops, Vi had much less control over what she did and did not see. But she also had Lightspinning at her disposal, and could make a convincing show of it.