by Elise Kova
“Please wait just a moment.” The handmaid held up her hands. “Cleric Joan is in with her now—she should be finished shortly.”
No sooner had the girl stopped speaking than the heavy wooden door opened and a black-eyed woman emerged. She was as gnarled as a Crone and her skin had long been leathered by the sun. Her hair had turned to white, but she looked at the world sharply. There was still strength in her steps.
“Tell the kitchens I would like her to have plain rice this morning, one sliced prickly pear, and some more of the barley tea from the East,” Joan instructed the handmaid.
“I think Jake said they have run out of the tea.”
“Then tell him to pull some out of his arse. Or use these supreme culinary skills he keeps bragging about to make something similar. These are not my demands—they come directly from our Empress.”
“Yes ma’am!” The handmaid sprinted down the hall. Joan’s attention landed on Vi.
“Fiarum Evantes, I’m—”
“No time for or interest in formalities, I know who you are. This whole city knows who you are,” Joan said dully. “You have a severe look on your face. Whatever it is you have to say, say it well and don’t upset her much. This pregnancy is becoming hard on her and if she keeps her stress and work up, she’s headed for a difficult labor.”
“Understood.” The cleric spoke like an officer, so Vi responded like a soldier.
Without another word, Joan left and Vi allowed herself into the royal chambers.
An entry hall opened up to a large sitting area connected to a wide balcony that stretched the length of the quarters. The Emperor and Empress sat out on the balcony, a table between them. Tiberus had draped his coat over the back of his chair. Fiera wore her hair long and unbound, her simple dress cut generously to accommodate her protruding stomach.
“Is breakfast already—” Fiera turned, her expression dimming when she realized food hadn’t arrived, then brightening again when she realized who had arrived instead. “Yullia, what a delightful surprise!”
“It is impossible for newlyweds to have a morning alone,” Tiberus grumbled, just barely loud enough for Vi to hear.
“Forgive my interruption, your highnesses. Were this not a matter of supreme importance, I wouldn’t have come so early.”
“Matters of supreme importance seem to follow you,” Tiberus said with a glance at her. He had a stack of papers Vi vaguely recognized. They were nearly identical in format to the trade and grain reports her father used to study.
“Your highness, they follow you—I am merely graced by proximity.”
“Your flattery is improving.” He didn’t even look up this time.
“Well, I do seek your indulgence.”
“In what?” Fiera asked.
“I would like a word alone with you,” Vi responded directly to her.
Fiera looked between Vi and Tiberus. “Anything you say to me, you can say to my husband.”
“Very well.” Vi couldn’t blame her. It was a stretch to separate them at this point. She knew Fiera’s primary goal was to keep peace in her growing family for the sake of all of Mhashan. Even with the Emperor’s heir growing within her, she still acted cautiously. “It’s regarding Zira,” Vi started delicately, remembering what Joan had just told her. “I’ll say foremost, she’s well.”
“All right,” Fiera said slowly, understandably confused. She turned to Tiberus but the man shrugged slightly to indicate he had no idea either. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
“Because this sunset we will go to the Cathedral of the Mother to mourn her death.”
“I don’t follow.”
“The Knights of Jadar are getting bolder, your majesties. Just last night there was an attack down at the docks resulting in Lord Twintle’s warehouse being burned.” Vi resisted a satisfied smirk.
“Traitorous snakes, I told you to cut them off at the head.” His words lacked any real bite. Clearly, this was an argument they’d had too many times for scathing words surrounding the Knights to still cut deeply.
“I told you there were good men among them—men who now fight for Solaris.” Fiera gave a sideways look at Tiberus and then turned her attention back to Vi. “So I assume Zira is off taking some kind of action against them?”
“Yes, I’ve acquired intelligence about their network in the Waste. We hope to cut off their support and force them to the surface. But for our plans to work, they must believe Zira is dead—she must be an unknown factor in play.”
“I see.” Fiera stroked the bulge of her stomach in thought.
Tiberus glanced up at her and Vi was caught in his ocean blue eyes for a long second. In them, she saw the eyes of her brother.
“You really are a dangerously clever one.”
“And I use my cleverness to support Solaris.” Vi could read between the lines. She knew what he was really saying.
“Let’s hope so, and that Zira is not the latest convert of the Knights. Otherwise we’ll have to kill her, too.”
“Zira would never betray me,” Fiera insisted to Tiberius. Then, she said to Vi, “I will do what must be done this sunset to mourn her. But regarding a body to burn—”
“Fear not, I’ve already taken care of the logistics,” Vi interrupted.
“I’d better not ask for specifics, then, and merely thank you for your continued service to the crown.”
Vi gave a low bow. “The honor is mine,” she said and dismissed herself.
On the way out, when he no doubt thought she was out of ear-shot, Vi heard Tiberus say, “You should keep an eye on that one. Someone who is always at the center of trouble is likely the cause.”
More than you know, Vi wanted to say. The world was a puppet, and it was her job to pull the strings.
She headed right for Deneya’s office, checking her watch along the way. It was still two hours before the council was scheduled to meet. That should be enough time.
“Deneya,” Vi said as she entered. Thankfully, the woman was behind her desk. Vi had learned that Deneya gave herself extra time in the mornings to prepare for meetings on account of how the numbers and letters “danced” across the page.
“Whenever you show up with that face, it’s rarely good.”
“I’ve never claimed to be a good omen.”
“Then you’re living up to expectations.” Deneya returned her quill to its inkwell and leaned back in her chair. “What do you need me for this time?”
“I need you to adjust the docket for today’s meeting.”
“That’s usually Ophain’s responsibility. Take it up with him.”
“He likes you better,” Vi countered.
“I can’t argue that.” Deneya stood. “What am I having him adjust?”
“The head of the city guard will need to discuss the Knights of Jadar.”
“Why?” Deneya asked cautiously.
“To talk about last night’s arson of course. Poor Lord Twintle.”
“What did you do?” Deneya almost sounded delighted. “And how dare you for not taking me with you to do it. I would’ve loved to juth starys the man seven ways to the next world.”
“Hopefully there is no next world,” Vi mumbled.
“What?”
“Change the docket. I have to file a report with the head of the city guard.” Vi started for the door. “A murder and arson in one night… The Knights were busy.”
“Wait, murder? Tell me—”
“No time.” Vi shot the woman a smile over her shoulder and was off down the hall.
Despite getting little to no sleep, she felt great. Control was an intoxicating thing. And Vi was finding she couldn’t get enough.
“Forgive me for my tardiness.” Twintle arrived for the meeting at the last possible minute. The man had still donned his impeccably tailored and pressed clothing, but there were hairs out of place and stubble was on his chin that wasn’t usually there.
He looked like a man who had not slept an hour the night before and Vi deli
ghted in it.
“The man of the hour,” Euclan, head of the city guard, said from the end of the table.
“We’re all sorry to hear of last night’s misfortune,” Ophain said with sincerity.
Vi resisted the urge to tell the royal that Twintle was the last one he should feel bad about. Twintle was the one attempting to orchestrate the fall of Ci’Dan and Solaris. Vi kept her mouth shut and a small smile in place.
“Yes, my misfortune…” Twintle said cautiously, looking from person to person. His eyes lingered for a little longer on Vi.
“The Knights of Jadar are getting too bold.” Ophain shook his head. “That’s why Euclan is here today to discuss what we can do about them.”
“The Knights of Jadar?” Twintle repeated, confused.
“Yes, the arson at your warehouse is believed to have been sparked by them,” Euclan said.
“That’s… not possible.” Twintle shuffled back a step.
“I understand how hard it is to see an order that you yourself were a part of fall so far. It guts me to see it.” Ophain balled his hand into a fist. “Fiera has pleaded with our Emperor for leniency. But I think the time for such things has long since come to an end.”
“Especially given the murder.”
“Murder?” Twintle was on repeat and Vi relished his confusion.
“The Knights of Jadar murdered Zira Westwind last night when she was on patrol,” Vi said sadly. “She was ambushed and cut down. They acted like a band of thugs to bring down one woman.” Twintle narrowed his eyes at her and Vi could see the veins in his neck bulge. She sighed heavily, intentionally mistaking his expression to rub salt in the wound. “I know, it’s heartbreaking. There will be a Rite of Sunset for her this evening.”
“Then…” Twintle finally ground out, “allow me to suggest we focus on mourning the loss of one of our own, rather than worrying about my warehouse. I’ll be able to get it back in order straight away. It was only property, after all. A loss of life is far more severe and our focus should remain there.”
“Good of you.” Ophain gave Twintle a nod as the lord took his seat.
“That still leaves the matter of defending our fair city from the Knights of Jadar. The murder of one of our Empress’s right-hand women should be treated as nothing less than an attack on the crown itself. I would propose…”
Vi tuned out Euclan and instead focused on the quill she was twirling in her fingers. However, the sensation of a pair of eyes on her quickly stilled her hands. Vi slowly lifted her gaze to meet Twintle’s. His stare was unwavering. The man was barely controlling his rage.
Without so much as blinking, Vi looked back to Euclan and pretended not to notice Twintle’s intense stare for the rest of the meeting. He somehow knew this all circled back to her.
Part of her hated the fact. It meant he’d be watching her every movement. But a part of her was satisfied by his discovery.
Let him hate her.
Let every Knight of Jadar hunt her down. She would find a way to bring about their end, and save this world.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It had been nearly three weeks since Zira left with the sword and there hadn’t been any word or further issue from the Knights. Vi’s days had become almost routine, each starting with her practice with Yargen’s magic.
Magic was magic. Taavin had told her so once, long ago, when Vi was first attempting to make sense of her powers. All sorcery was a means to harness the gift of Yargen, everything made possible by words, or feelings, or sparks of power.
Yet, in her, Vi could feel something different and distinct. Something that hadn’t been there before. She could feel her own powers of fire and light. They crackled under her skin and sprang forth with a command. But there was also something more.
Something Vi had long since decided was the power of Yargen itself.
Holding out her hand in the early morning light, Vi focused on pooling that magic within her palm. Yargen had entrusted her with the remnants of her power from an old world. So why shouldn’t she be able to use it like any other magic?
A hazy blue glow collected around her fingers. Vi narrowed her eyes and took a slow breath. She worked to distance herself from each inhale and exhale. The slightest jostle would disrupt the intense focus it had taken to get this far.
Tiny flashes and motes of light appeared in the thickening haze of magic. It felt as though she held a small microcosm in her fingers. Every muscle was rigid, her joints aching from holding herself in a precise form.
More power. Vi attempted to dredge it up from every nook and cranny. Her hand began to tremble; sweat beaded on her brow. She was going to lose it.
All at once, the power snapped back into place with a pop she could feel in the center of her chest. Like the rush of Deneya’s spiced liquor, Vi shivered as it flooded her veins and made her head spin. Pulling out Yargen’s power at all was nearly impossible. But if she had more…
If she had the sword.
Vi pushed the thought from her mind. Everything was going according to plan. The last thing Vi would do was muck it up by seeking out the sword.
She’d be reunited with it soon enough, anyway. But first, she had to ensure Fiera survived through her childbirth.
Shrugging on a cropped vest over her tailored, sleeveless shirt and tight-fitting pants, Vi departed her room for the day. She ran through the day’s obligations in her mind: she would oversee the soldiers’ training, get the reports from Euclan on the city guard, then ensure rounds and rotations for the soldiers were in order.
Zira had done a lot more to keep the castle and city guard running than Vi had given her credit for. Since Vi was the one to send her away, it was now her responsibility to oversee those obligations. Luckily, she’d been trained for the majority of her life to delegate, plan, and lead.
“Euclan, tell me what I need to know,” Vi demanded as she entered the cramped guard office next to the training field.
A silver pot of steaming kaha was set beside two clay mugs, adjacent to two bowls heaped with steaming rice topped with egg and shallot. She’d begun to form a routine, and fortunately the castle staff had picked it up quickly. It made it easy for Vi to remain efficient in these busy mornings.
“Twenty guards have requested leave.”
“Twenty?” Vi asked as she poured kaha for them both. When she was younger, she would’ve taken it with some kind of cream or sweetener. But much like she’d found a taste for liquor, Vi had discovered she liked the bitter liquid first thing in the morning. It sharpened her senses even after the longest nights. “That seems a little high, doesn’t it?”
“Bad timing, but most of the men have never interacted with each other. Thank you.” Euclan took his kaha, drinking it slowly. “I thought perhaps it could be something nefarious… but four of them are imminently awaiting children—”
“So many babies,” Vi murmured.
“The post-war phenomenon,” he chuckled.
Vi ran her nail along the edge of her mug. Children. She’d always expected she’d have some of her own for the purpose of heirs at the very least. But now… Vi pushed the thoughts from her mind.
“In any case,” Euclan continued. “I thought perhaps it could be the Knights of Jadar infiltrating our men. But that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
“I appreciate your vigilance.” The Knights of Jadar had been quiet. Vi suspected they were off licking their wounds and planning their next attack. “Let’s continue to play it safe—take twenty of the best from the castle tonight for the city patrols.”
“You don’t need them here?”
“I’ll figure it out,” she said confidently. “Now, what’s next on the docket?”
Vi shoveled food into her mouth as Euclan ran through the day’s obligations. Her bowl was clean when he finished.
“As usual, thank you for your time.”
“It’s my job, now.” Vi wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“You’re a natural.
We’re lucky to have someone like you to replace—” Euclan was interrupted by the training-side door opening.
Vi’s eyes met a familiar pair of dark orbs. She’d know that terrible, spiked haircut anywhere.
“Forgive my intrusion.” Luke gave a low bow.
“We were just finishing,” Vi said before Euclan could get a word in. “Thank you for your hard work, sir. We’ll meet again in two days’ time as normal.”
“Fiarum Evantes.”
“Kotun un nox.”
Luke stepped to the side, allowing Euclan to pass. The two exchanged a nod, but little other indication of formality. Vi appreciated the fact. She didn’t want to see Luke too friendly with anyone who came in and out of the castle.
“You say it well,” Luke said.
“Say what well?”
“That colloquialism of Mhashan.”
Vi picked up her mug and took a sip. The kaha had gone cold. But she wanted to keep her mouth busy for a moment to think through what to say next. “I am Western.”
“No red-blooded Mhashanese would ever call themselves Western,” Luke replied with a dangerous edge to his voice.
“What do you want?”
“Where would I find Lord Ophain at this time of day?”
“Lord Ophain?” Vi repeated. “Why?”
“Is it common for guards to question nobles on their business?”
“Only in the interest of castle security,” she replied.
“Do you think I’m a threat?” He smiled thinly.
She’d lose either way. If she said no, she passed up the opportunity to question him further. If she said yes, he’d know she had some idea about the role he might be looking to play.
“The son of the illustrious Lord Twintle and a former Knight of Jadar? Of course I don’t think you’re a threat.” Vi set her mug down lightly, resisting the urge to throw it at his smug face. “This way, please.”
She led him into the castle and wound upward through the staircases and long hallways to the royal chambers. There was an audience room at the start done entirely in crimson trimmings and bright red lacquered wood. Vi sat Luke down there, stationing a guard at the door to keep an eye on him before she went and got Ophain herself.