by Kova, Elise
She hadn’t quite heard the symbols, nor had she read them. It was as though the word—words?—had vibrated in the very core of her being. Vi looked back up from the watch around her neck, but the two people had gone blurry and over-saturated. They were fading into white light.
Vi blinked, swaying.
The world came into focus once more, light vanishing from around her. No, it hadn’t been light, it had been flames, hadn’t it?
She slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe. Ash coated her hands up to her elbows, coated her lungs as though she had been breathing fire instead of air. Her head spun.
Vi had wanted magic. Begged for it. She’d anticipated flames like her uncle’s, like those of her forefathers.
She’d never expected to see the future.
Chapter Three
The water pooled around her feet, black with soot. It clung to the ceramic tiles and hung in the grooves between them that surrounded her rectangular, wooden bath. It lingered bucket after bucket, its granules impossible to wash away from the inside of the tub.
Her eyes looked at it unseeing, focused instead on the vision.
Shaking, Vi continued to scrub.
She’d wanted magic. Future sight hadn’t been in the plans. Vi looked at the murky water as it slipped between her tan fingers.
That’s what it was, wasn’t it? It had to be, based on everything she’d read. But if she had future sight, why had she never received a vision when she looked into flames before?
There were four affinities that commanded the four elements: Windwalkers for air, Firebearers for fire, Groundbreakers for earth, and Waterrunners for water. Yet each of those four affinities could, sometimes, tap into a deeper, more mysterious magic called an affinity of the self.
For Firebearers, that was future sight.
“Do you need more water, your highness?” A servant called from outside the door to the bathing room.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
The water was tepid and like ice on her skin. But she relished every raised goose bump that now lined her arms. Smoldering embers had taken up residence in her stomach. White-hot lightning arced between them. It escaped, wrapping around her fingers if she moved them too quickly.
She was Awoken now, there was little doubt of that. Her uncle had said it would result in her being able to truly command her magic. But this did not feel like control.
The Crown Princess felt as if she was one breath away from burning alive.
As if she was one breath away from burning them all alive.
“Can I get you anything else, your highness?” The woman asked. Vi knew to read between the lines and understood she needed to get moving, go about her day. But how could she act as if nothing had happened?
“I’m done.” Vi stood, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. But she didn’t know what from—the cold, or feeling the rising tide of the magic within her. What a fitting tone for her birthday.
The servant came in, head bowed, towel in outstretched hands. Vi allowed herself to be attended to and was ushered out into the narrow dressing area that attached her closet, bath, and toilet with her bedroom. She was silent as the servant moved hastily around her, placing her mind as far from her body as possible.
She was no longer Vi the sorceress, but Vi the princess.
Princesses did not object. Princesses did not attempt to dry or perfume themselves. They didn’t choose their outfits or decide what powders to put on their cheeks.
Yet when the woman’s hands moved to plunge themselves into Vi’s hair, she raised a hand.
“I can plait it myself.”
“Are you certain?” It was the usual question, even though whoever was attending her among Vi’s rotation of servants already knew the answer.
“I’m certain. You can go now.”
The moment the servant was gone, Vi’s fingers were in her hair, weaving the braids her mother had taught her were fashionable in the South. They shouldn’t allow her this. But they did.
She carefully twisted the braids, stretching them back, pinning them in place, repeating the process time and again.
By the time Vi was done, she felt some sliver of emotion trying to work its way out from underneath the ash that still coated her soul. Between the strands of hair, she’d almost completely woven the morning out of her narrative. If she tried, she could convince herself to pretend this was like any other morning before her classes.
To sell herself on the fiction, Vi wandered from her bathing and dressing rooms to her study, as she would on any normal day.
Hair still wet and dripping from the ends of her braids, Vi pulled it over her shoulder and tucked it carefully under the collar of her shirt so it didn’t get water on any of her most prized possessions. She closed the door tightly behind her and shut out the world.
What should she do?
Write down her vision? Ignore it entirely? Vi’s eyes fell on her drafting table. The burnt spot stared at her like a bad omen. Could she trust herself with her magic feeling so unstable around her books?
Vi crossed to the table, sitting heavily. She tilted her head back, eyes wandering the maps lazily. They landed on the blueprint her brother had sent her of the rose garden.
“How about you, Father?” she asked the parchment. “Did you ever see the future?”
How nice it would be if she could actually ask her parents. It was a fantasy Vi pushed away as she shifted back toward the desk.
Her hand moved slowly, reaching for a quill and parchment. Every move was drawn out, intentional, no unnecessary energy expended so no magic would spark from her fingers again. A blank sheet in front of her, Vi drew the first line of ink across its surface.
She’d intended to write down her vision. But her hand seemed to move of its own accord, darting across the page while her mind lingered on nothing.
Swirling circles, connected by symbols Vi didn’t understand. Dots, lines, smaller circles, they all wrapped together. As Vi drew, the sensation of rightness swelled in her, just as it had in her vision.
Why did something that seemed like it made so much sense also terrify her in equal measure?
Her quill stopped, and Vi looked down at the drawing. It was the same symbol she’d seen hovering over the watch around her neck, drawn with what Vi was certain was uncanny precision. Her heart began to race, staring at it. If she looked at it long enough then she may just—
The door opened behind her and Vi jumped, startled.
The paper in her hand incinerated in a bright pop of fire. The room filled with the scent of smoke and ash covered her fingertips yet again. She stared at the servant from earlier who stared back with equally wide eyes and an unsettling skepticism Vi had never seen before.
“Forgive my interruption.” She gave a small bow, saying nothing of the magic she’d witnessed. “A courier has arrived.”
“Jayme,” Vi breathed in relief. Perhaps this birthday wouldn’t be a complete waste. “Thank you, please excuse me.” She pushed past the woman, starting out the door, only to be stopped again by a man who was heading into her classroom.
“Princess, where do you think you’re going?” Martis questioned.
“Jayme has arrived.”
“And you still have your lesson as normal, even when your courier arrives,” he said hastily, trying to stop her with words alone. “You’re about to have three days off, now is not the time to be skipping.”
“We’re about to get a whole fresh batch of news from Jayme’s delivery to debate during our lessons. Don’t you think it’s worth postponing things a little?” Vi braced herself for another rejection. But it seemed Martis would be softer on her than Jax had been.
“Very well, go on.” He shook his head and started into her study. “But hurry back. I expect at least a half lesson from you, princess. You’re not to get out of this entirely.”
“Understood,” Vi called over her shoulder and was off before he even had time to set down his folio on one of
the two desks they used in her classroom.
Out the main door was a serpentine walkway, wrapping around the tree, tunneling back into the trunk as it spiraled down. Two different rope bridges connected across to other structures, and walkways that were really massive limbs with railings or twisting stone bridges. High above her, the buildings stretched into the leafy embrace of the most ancient trees in the world. Far below her, the buildings grew up from the ground to make a living fortress that looked like more of a magical treehouse than the strict definitions of castles and fortresses she’d seen in the architectural books she’d studied.
The rope bridge leading away from her room creaked loudly, swaying under her feet as she darted across it. From the platform on the far side, Vi could get a much better look of the main entry of the fortress. Sure enough, if she squinted, she could make out golden embellishments glinting off the standard saddle for an Imperial courier. Two people stood by the mount; one had dark hair like Vi’s, the other brown—like her mother’s.
But unusually, there was a second mount, and a man with bright blond hair.
Vi gripped the railing beside her so tightly the rough edges of the weather-worn rope splintered into her palms. She leaned over, bending at the waist, trying to get a better look without falling.
She couldn’t breathe.
From here, the man looked like he could be… might be… was it Romulin? Her heart nearly exploded from her chest with hope.
“Ellene!” Vi called upward. She took the curving steps that wound around the large tree trunk two, even three at a time, her long legs making quick work of the stairs. “Ellene! Jayme’s here and someone’s with her!”
“Princess.” A green-eyed maid gave a small nod, her hands laden with fresh linens. “The chieftain’s daughter has gone down to the stables.”
“Of course she has,” Vi muttered. Ellene and Vi had an unspoken race for who would be the first to greet their friend, and she was currently in second place. “Thank you!” she called as she began running back down the stairs.
Vi spiraled down, in and out of hollowed tree trunks that held the living quarters of the fortress of Soricium. She dashed across bridges of rope and stone, through sitting areas, gaming parlors, libraries, and more. She knew every shortcut, every back-door that led to a tree-limb that ran parallel with another where nimble, confident feet could jump.
In mere minutes, she was breathlessly emerging into the sunlight on the ground below, catching deep inhales of the dust cloud that perpetually lingered in the stretch of dirt that ran the length of the stables. At her left were smaller stables where horses were kept. At her right was a massive pen that contained five large noru cats, lounging about. Vi ignored both feline and equine alike, focusing on the small group collected around the courier she’d seen from above.
“Jayme!” Vi called over as she quickly approached.
“Don’t you have a lesson to be attending right now?” Jax turned quickly, giving her a stern look.
Vi stopped mid-step, freezing in place. The severity of his tone hardly fit him. It was the tone he usually used when they weren’t among friends.
“Martis agreed to a half lesson so that we cold properly account for new news from the capital.” Vi’s eyes drifted from Jayme to Jax, and finally to the man still seated high on his horse—the new presence and undeniable source of the tension.
He had cerulean eyes, a square-cut jaw lined with pale stubble, and a mess of wavy golden hair. Vi supposed most women would find him handsome. She also supposed she wasn’t like most women… because his appeal did little to interest her.
She only cared about one thing: he was certainly not her brother. Vi knew it from the portraits of Romulin she’d been sent and she knew it from the way he looked at her—eyes shifting, constant glances askance—awkward. Nothing like what she would expect of her brother’s gaze.
“Greetings, your highness.” He finally swung one dusty trouser leg over the saddle, dismounting and dipping into a low bow with the same motion. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Andru Rarren, son to Head of Senate, Lord Tomson Rarren.”
Son to Head of Senate… Vi merely blinked at the man for a long minute as the words sank in. She took long enough that her uncle elbowed her side. Vi coughed softly, trying to ignore her lapse in etiquette.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Andru.” Vi held out her hand expectantly.
Andru stared at it for a long moment as if confused. Long enough that Vi wondered if somehow she was remembering what her tutors had told her about Southern introductions incorrectly. But he finally, almost too hastily, grabbed her palm and brought the back of her hand to his lips for a light kiss.
“And you as well, your highness. I’ve heard much about you. Your brother talks much of you. It’s good to finally put a face to a name.” He straightened and Vi shifted, drawing her height as well. They were nearly the same measurement and she relished the fact. She was tall for a woman and would leverage her height as often as possible against men who thought they could look down on her by stature alone.
“I believe there have been portrait artists sent before to capture my likeness. Have you not seen their renditions?” Vi asked, part coy, part cautious.
“There is nothing like laying eyes on you in the flesh. The artists do not do you justice.”
“Indeed, they are far too generous,” Vi remarked dryly. “Why have you come, Lord Andru?” Vi folded her hands before her. “I know it is not to merely set eyes on me. Otherwise you came very far, for very little.”
She could feel her uncle shift uncomfortably next to her. He wanted to scold her for her boldness. But Vi didn’t feel the least bit sorry for her remarks. The Senate had done her no favors in life and she had no interest in bowing before them or their appointed messenger.
“You are correct, princess. This is not a mere social call. I am here to assess you.”
“Assess me?” Vi repeated, shock seeping into the question. He would seek to assess her? More than her tutors already had? More than her parents every time they came? Every inch of her had been inspected and measured since birth. What more was there to assess?
“Yes, on behalf of the Senate.”
“What does the Senate want to assess me on?” Vi asked cautiously. More like, what did they think they had the right to assess her on? At least her tutors and parents had ground to stand on for placing her under scrutiny. The Senate was an extension of the people, but far below the crown.
“Your fitness to rule.” He had the audacity to smile as he said it. “The people and Senate question if one raised in the arms of our enemies could be fit to be a leader of all the Empire’s peoples. Especially before she returns home next spring.”
Vi didn’t know where to start. Correcting the idea that she had been raised in the arms of enemies? The notion that she needed to be tested at all? Ruling was her birthright—the one unquestioned element of her life.
Or perhaps she should start with the last and most important thing of all…
The fact that she would finally head South in the spring.
Chapter Four
Home, a place she never thought she’d see. A place she had given up on ever finding. Now dangled before her by the words of a stranger.
“Can you say that again?” Her voice had fallen to a whisper. She didn’t think she could muster anything louder if she tried. Everything felt fragile, as though the world itself might shatter if she spoke too loudly. The world likely wouldn’t, but the thin veneer of hope that now coated her heart certainly would.
“Come spring, or as soon as the passes thaw enough to get the military parade through, the Senate has declared for you to be returned to Solarin.”
It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t real. Without warning, suddenly, she would be reunited with her family.
“I…” Words completely failed her. Thoughts failed her. She’d fantasized so often about this moment that she should know exactly what her reaction was, and yet Vi f
roze completely.
Andru’s mouth quirked up into a smile that Vi couldn’t quite read. It was self-satisfied certainly, bordering on arrogant, slightly condescending perhaps. He must be relishing in rendering the princess speechless. Somehow, though, his blue eyes were kind. Leaving her conflicted about how she should react.
“Yes, princess?” Jax brought her back to the present.
“I am glad to be returning to the home of my forefathers at long last.” Vi turned to Jayme, and then Ellene. Her two friends and confidants had been oddly silent. She needed time to process everything that was happening, and she couldn’t rightly do that standing in the middle of the stable grounds. “Jayme, you have letters for me, I believe?”
“I do.” Jayme gave a bow of her head then turned, reaching for a familiar box at the top of the small pile that had been unloaded from the over-sized saddle bags of her mount. “This is for you, princess… And for you, Lord Wendyll… And I have a satchel for your tutors and staff.”
Vi gave a small noise of agreement and focused mostly on the small, lacquered white box. On its top was the imperial seal. Inside, packed between folds of blue velvet, were a series of small envelopes and parcels from her family.
“Let us head to my chambers, Jayme and Ellene. Martis should still be there; you can deliver the letters directly to him.” Vi took care to properly enunciate her words for Andru’s benefit, drawing each one out, as was customary for nobility—especially Southern nobility. “Uncle, can you kindly work with the staff and see that Andru is settled in to suitable chambers for the duration of his stay?”
“It seems Andru is not the only one who will need chambers for a longer stay.” Jax lowered a letter he’d been skimming; Vi recognized her mother’s script. His eyes went directly to Jayme. “You have had a promotion.”
Jayme folded her hands before her, head bowed slightly. It was a position Vi had seen often. Spending time in the company of the Crown Princess could be difficult for a woman who didn’t really enjoy being the center of attention.