by Elise Kova
“Because if we grabbed it by force, Vhalla would fight us. Knowing her, she’d do so to the death. I don’t know if she fully understands what she has or not… but given how carefully she’s kept it secret, I think she has some idea.” Vi had employed similar logic when she’d decided not to take the crown.
“If we’re committing to this being the end of the vortex, then we don’t need her anymore.” His thoughts had run parallel to hers, and Vi hated it.
I need her, a voice all Vi’s own shouted from within. “I don’t want to kill her,” Vi admitted.
“You could’ve fooled me with that fire.”
“I know. It was impulsive.”
“Your impulses have always been as wild as your flames.”
One side was her, the other was Yargen. Success or failure seemed to depend on if she was the one in control or not. Had Yargen been the one in control of that fire?
“I don’t want to act impulsively,” Vi murmured, dismissing the notion with a shake of her head. She had to move forward. “The least impulsive thing to do would be remove ourselves for a while and stop chasing after the axe. We know where it will ultimately end up and we can wait for it to arrive.”
“The Caverns.”
“Exactly. No matter how much has changed… I know Victor. The only time he’ll relent in his search for the power of the crystals is when he’s dead,” Vi said bitterly, her eyes still on Vhalla below. “Let’s allow fate to bring the axe to us.”
People were beginning to stream out of their homes. Vi noticed more and more turning in their direction. The windmill still burned.
“It’s time to go.” She retreated away from the ridge and Taavin followed her. They hiked down to their horse and rode through the familiar forest, back to the cabin that still stood at the foot of the Crystal Caverns.
The grip of winter was undeniable. It wouldn’t be long until the first snowfall of the season blanketed the entire mountainside. Vi sat at the entrance to the Crystal Caverns with Taavin, waiting as they had every day for weeks.
“What if they’re not coming?” she was finally forced to wonder aloud.
“They always—” He stopped himself short, realizing that referencing what had “always” happened was now unhelpful. “Maybe things have changed too much and Victor won’t go after the axe. We could go to them and see what’s been happening? There may be an opportunity to take it at the palace.” Vi chewed over this idea. “We’ll take the main path toward Solarin. There’s no way we’ll miss them on the way.”
“If we leave now, we’ll make it just after nightfall.” Vi stood and extended her hand to Taavin. “One last time to Solarin?”
He took her hand and Vi helped him up.
Sure enough, they made it to the palace in the early evening. Their gold was starting to run dry, but at least they had enough to board the horse. Vi and Taavin slipped into the palace—an act that was now second nature—and headed for the Tower of Sorcerers.
The Tower was quiet. Vi and Taavin moved unseen. She’d been planning to head to Victor’s office first—at least, until she saw a haggard man stumbling into the Tower library.
“Where are you going?” Taavin hissed as she tugged him in that direction.
“It’s Aldrik.”
“So?”
“Wherever Aldrik is, Vhalla usually isn’t far behind. She was the last one to have the axe, so it makes sense to check with her first.”
Taavin relented, and followed her into the library.
The crown prince swayed, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. He looked drunk, but Vi couldn’t tell for sure. He began rummaging through the shelves, picking up a book and dropping it heavily on a table before reaching for the next.
Just what had transpired here while they were waiting for the axe? Was the prince’s state some indication of foul play?
As if guided by fate, Vhalla appeared in the doorway. The young woman watched the man for a while, before announcing her presence with a soft, “My prince.”
“What—when did you get here?”
“Aldrik, what’s wrong?”
“Baldair. He’s sick, Vhalla.”
Vi watched the exchange. A rush of heat went to her head and her stomach churned, as though she was the one who was sick. She’d overlooked the first rule Taavin had taught her in these past weeks of waiting: Yargen always demanded her due. Even in changed worlds. The ink on the pages of some people’s destiny was long dried.
“It’s serious, isn’t it?”
“It started as a cold, aches, chills. It’s autumn fever.”
The two continued speaking, but Vi tuned out the majority of the conversation. She should feel grateful, she presumed. In her world, Baldair died the first time he headed to war. He’d been barely eighteen. She’d prevented that; now, he was twenty-two. She’d bought him three years. It hardly seemed like much of anything at all, but to the people who loved him…
She could see the pain on Aldrik’s and Vhalla’s faces as they spoke of a man they so clearly loved. Family. She remembered what it felt like to lose that.
The two left the library and it was only then that Vi realized her ears had been full of ringing that was just now beginning to fade.
“Are they going to see him?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Taavin replied from her side.
“He’s going to die.”
“I think so.”
Vi released her glyph.
“Where are you going?” Taavin was on his feet as well, appearing out of thin air.
“I don’t know yet.” Vi looked to him, holding out her hand. “Come with me?”
He took her waiting palm and that was all the affirmation she needed. This man was going to follow her to the ends of the earth, but asking him to follow her into the room of a dying man felt like too much.
Vi wandered the palace. Her feet felt the weight of every Vi before her. The ghost of every Solaris was over her shoulders, looking down at her, wondering how—with all the powers she possessed—she could not stop such misfortune from befalling them.
Vi ignored them. She had done her best. Every version of herself had done her best. That much was all Vi could believe.
She walked to the entrance of the royal quarters. Vi could almost smell the sick in the air from where she stood, hidden behind a corner so the guards didn’t see.
“What do you want to do?” Taavin asked in a whisper.
“I want…” She shook her head, sending the notion that had been creeping across her mind scattering like rats. “I want to get away from here. There’s nothing… there’s nothing for me if I stay.”
They retreated into the depths of the castle and slept in their old hideaway. But nightmares of Baldair and Raylynn filled her mind. They haunted her all throughout the next day, and those thoughts brought Vi back to the entrance of the royal quarters. Taavin had agreed to wait for her in the Tower library at her request.
She needed to do this alone.
Vi disguised herself as a cleric to pass by the guards. Then, she waited outside the prince’s door. She stood in the hallway till her feet ached, unable to bring herself to enter, doubting every movement until now.
Just when she was about to turn away, Aldrik bolted from Baldair’s room. Vi quickly stepped down the hall and uttered durroe so he wouldn’t see her suspiciously lingering. When Aldrik returned, it was with a cleric. Vhalla Yarl was escorted out next; she was covered in blood that wasn’t her own. Aldrik brought her through a door across the hall and Vi seized the opportunity.
She relaxed the glyph around her fingers. With the clothing of a cleric, she boldly stepped inside Prince Baldair’s chambers. Clerical supplies filled the once-happy room like tiny tombstones.
“Just one of you?” a man said. Vi recognized him by his attire as a head cleric.
“I think more are coming,” Vi said, hoping she wasn’t wrong. She had no idea what she was doing, but it was too late to back out now.
“Good, we
need the hands. Now, bring me those rags.”
Vi grabbed a pile of rags that had been set on a low table by the door. She carried them though a side door and into the prince’s bedroom. Here, the stench of illness was so thick that Vi was surprised she couldn’t see it in the air.
The golden prince was coated in blood, doubled over and coughing.
“Don’t just stand there, girl. Put them down and hold this,” the man said sharply, motioning to the bucket in his hands.
Vi placed the rags at the foot of the bed and did as she was told. The head cleric left the room immediately and Vi could hear him clanking around the clerical supplies as Baldair heaved monumental coughs, blood and spittle coming up with each one. When he seemed to find a reprieve, Vi reached for a rag to gently wipe his face.
His cerulean eyes were half-hidden behind heavy lids. But he seemed to gain a moment of focus when he looked at her.
“Hello,” she whispered.
“He—” He was coughing again, and Vi held up the bucket once more to catch everything that came out.
The door to the main room opened and closed. Discussions flew through the air and among the hasty words, Vi gathered the head cleric’s name was Julus.
“I’d like a salve and potion there, suppressants, mostly—something with mint and valerian,” Julus commanded.
“Understood, sir.”
“You two get rid of these bloody rags.”
“What can I do?” Aldrik asked.
“Just stay back, my prince. You’ll only risk contamination.”
“He’s my brother—”
“Let us handle this.”
Vi lingered in the room, somehow retaining her job as the blood collector and mouth wiper through the night. She watched as they poured potions down his throat that the prince instantly coughed up. Vi was there to catch everything in the bucket—exchanging it for a fresh one when it was full of fluid and soiled rags. The clerics were relentless, determined to find something that would stick on Baldair’s sweat-slick skin or stay in his stomach.
Aldrik paced in the main room. Now and then he would come in carrying something Julus ordered, only to be sent away again. Vi watched him drift in and out and an idea crossed her mind.
There was something the crown prince could do.
“I’ll exchange this one myself,” Vi murmured, standing with her bucket. Another cleric instantly filled in the gap she left behind. Vi wandered out to the main room. There were definitely fewer clerics as the night dragged on, and it made the lone man dressed in black stand out all the more.
Vi set the bucket down in a corner. She wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs and approached.
“My prince,” Vi said quietly.
He nearly jumped at the sound of someone addressing him. “What?” Aldrik said curtly, staring down the bridge of his crooked nose.
“I’d like to request something of you.”
“You would like to request something of me?” He arched his eyebrows.
“Yes.”
He sighed dramatically and looked back out the window. Vi would’ve interpreted it as dismissal if not for his sharp, “Well, what is it?”
“Do you know where to find Raylynn?”
“I don’t concern myself with my brother’s concubines.”
“She’s the best swordswoman in the world, far from a concubine,” Vi said and allowed her tone to communicate she didn’t appreciate his word choice.
“Yes I know where she is.” Aldrik sneered at her. But Vi remained passive in the face of his gruff exterior. That confused him all the more.
“Please bring her.”
“Who do you think you are, commanding me?”
“You want to help, don’t you?” Vi snapped back. She gave him an intense stare that she usually reserved for people she was threatening. Aldrik straightened away, as if she’d slapped him. More likely, he had seen his own expression used against him. “Get her.”
Vi walked away, satisfied when she heard his retreating footsteps.
She continued to help the clerics. As Baldair finally seemed to settle, they left the room one by one to get some sleep. Soon, she was one of three, and there was still no sign of Aldrik.
“One of you should stay. I want him monitored around the clock,” Julus commanded. “I’ll be of no use unless I get some rest, and the Emperor will want a full report in the morning.”
“I can watch him until dawn,” Vi volunteered before anyone else could.
“Fine, you do it.” Julus yawned. “You, go to the Tower and get Waterrunners from Victor, or a Groundbreaker. We’re going to need all the hands we can get. This won’t be pretty tomorrow.”
“Yes, of course.”
There were more orders, but Vi didn’t hear them as they left the room, leaving her by herself. She wasn’t alone for long. Within the first hour, Aldrik appeared with a worried-looking Raylynn.
“Thank you, my prince,” Vi said as she rushed over to them.
“How is he?” Raylynn asked.
“Dozing,” Vi replied. Baldair was in a hazy, half-drugged sleep. Not the ideal condition for the conversation she wanted to have. But she had to work with what fate gave her. “He’ll have clerics with him around the clock from now on.”
“That’s a relief.” Genuine kindness crossed Aldrik’s features. It was the first time she saw a glimpse of her father in the otherwise harsh man.
“Now, Raylynn, there’s something I wish to discuss with you. My prince, you should get some rest.”
“First you think to order me, now you’d dismiss me?”
“Are you not tired?” Vi arched her eyebrows in a mirror of what he’d done to her earlier. It gave him the same pause as her earlier look. Vi could’ve sworn she saw recognition somewhere in his assessment of her. Even if his conscious mind wouldn’t admit it, Vi wanted to believe that somehow, he knew who she was. “Keep up your strength. Consider it cleric’s orders.”
His eyes darted between Vi and Raylynn before he turned away, muttering gruffly, and closed the door behind him.
“And who are you?” Raylynn folded her arms over her chest.
“A cleric.”
“No, you’re not,” she said, starting for Baldair’s room. “No cleric orders Aldrik around like that. Besides, I know your face.”
Raylynn delivered the statement so calmly, without even turning, that Vi stopped dead in her tracks. She stared at the woman’s back, waiting for her to turn around with a smug grin. But she never did. That truth was delivered plainly and Raylynn moved immediately to Baldair’s bedside.
Vi followed slowly behind and looked at the scene she had orchestrated. Baldair lay in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. His eyes fluttered open as Raylynn reached for his hands.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “It’s me.”
It had always been her at his side. Vi had seen it from a distance. She’d heard whispers from the soldiers. The man known as the “Playboy Prince” had found his singular golden woman long ago.
“Ray…”
“Don’t speak, you idiot,” she scolded lightly, running her fingertips over his forehead. Baldair’s eyes drifted, but before they could close, they landed on Vi. Focus overtook him once more. “Yes, she’s here, too.”
“Who… are you?”
Vi was in two places at once. But this wasn’t the sensation of the unique visions crystal weapons gave her. This was brought on by memory. She was in a different room, standing before a different bed, occupied by someone who would’ve been a family member in a different world, who was destined for death.
She was honest then, and she would be honest now. She’d come here not for fate, after all. But for herself. For the love of family that transcended time and space.
“I’m the one who did this to you.”
“What?” Raylynn seethed, turning sharply.
“I’m the one who pulled the strings of fate to bring you here, to this moment, Baldair. The flame of your life was supp
osed to be extinguished years ago.” Vi dragged her feet over tiredly, pulling up a chair that had been cast aside so the clerics could have room to work. “I’m the one who tried to keep you alive.” She looked from Baldair to Raylynn. “And I got you to help me do it without you realizing it.” She thought back to reading Raylynn’s future as Fiera. Raylynn had dutifully defended a golden crown, just as Vi had hoped.
“I don’t—” Baldair wheezed and Vi braced herself for another coughing fit. But the cleric’s medicine held and he finished, “understand.”
“I know.” Vi smiled tiredly. “It’s hard to explain. I don’t entirely understand some days myself… even still.”
“You were the one who saved us that night in the West,” Raylynn said. Vi nodded. “It wasn’t the princess.”
“Fiera is dead. I was there when she died.”
“Impossible. You’d have to be at least thirty—forty, even. You don’t look a day past eighteen.”
“I’ve been eighteen a long time.” Vi sighed heavily. Her body would be the one thing she would be ready to give back to the goddess when the time came. She’d mourn the loss of her mind and its thoughts—its memories—but her corporeal form was tired of feeling very old and very young all at once. “I’ve come from a world away, on a mission to save this one.”
Baldair looked at her in a fevered haze. Vi would be shocked if he remembered any of this come morning. But Raylynn’s expression was completely believing. The woman had her mother’s eyes and intuition.
“You brought us here for a reason, to tell us the flame of Baldair’s life will be extinguished?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t fully know myself.” Vi shook her head. “Perhaps because I felt I owed this to you after meddling in your lives for so long.”
“Nox?” Baldair whispered.
“That is one of my names, yes.” Vi smiled tenderly at him. “I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. If I could save you, Baldair… Raylynn, if I could’ve saved your mother, or Fiera, I would have. It wasn’t for lack of trying. But the goddess will have her due and—”
“Enough,” Raylynn said faintly. She gave Vi a tired smile. “I’m not afraid of death, Nox. And I’m not afraid of giving myself to the Mother.”