by Kova, Elise
“I will always believe you,” he vowed softly. She nearly told him in that second of her visions. But the moment passed as quickly as it came. “I’ll speak with Andru, see if he has any other details to contribute.”
Vi nodded. Ache seeped into her bones and Vi gently pulled his hand toward her. She brought it to her cheek, holding it there gently. It was the closest thing to a hug she could manage in her present condition.
“Thank you, uncle,” she whispered.
He said nothing more, shifting his palm to her forehead. Vi’s eyes fluttered closed for several moments as he gently stroked her hair. In a different world, the touch would be her father’s. But in this world, Jax was the closest thing she had.
“You should rest,” he said, soft enough that he clearly thought she was halfway to sleep. “I will position extra security at your room at all times.”
Vi appreciated the sentiment, even if she didn’t think the elfin’ra would be caught or stopped by any normal means. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Can you please send Andru to me?”
“He’s recovering as well, like you should be.”
“It won’t be long. I’d like to thank him,” she said trying to prop herself up a little more on the pillows so she didn’t actually fall asleep. “He saved my life. I promise I’ll be a good patient the rest of the day. Just ten minutes?”
“Very well.” Jax gave her a tender smile. She should have near-death experiences more often. It clearly softened him. “Never claim I don’t spoil you.”
“Thank you,” Vi called after him.
In a few minutes, Andru arrived. Vi watched as he slipped through the door, moving stiffly.
“Close it behind you,” Vi requested softly.
He did as instructed but continued to hover. His icy blue eyes stared down at her and Vi looked back at him. Neither of them said anything for several long moments.
“I thought you were trying to kill me,” Vi blurted.
“What?” He blinked, startled. “Is that really what you summoned me here to say?”
“No. Well, it was one of the things I wanted to say…” Vi admitted.
“Why did you think I was trying to kill you?” he asked skeptically.
“Because you showed up and suddenly strange things started happening.” A lot of strange things, but none of them could be blamed on Andru, it seemed. “You said you followed me into the city—”
“Because I wanted to protect you.” His eyes darted around the room, shifty. No, they weren’t shifty. She’d only thought they were. He was simply… awkward. “I can see the door to your room from my bedroom. I had been having trouble sleeping with all the forest noises and was up.” It was then that Vi realized she didn’t even know where they had put him up in the fortress. “I saw you going out, alone, looking very much like you were sneaking about. There was someone else following behind you, too, but they were gone when I went to approach them.”
“What did they look like?” Vi asked eagerly.
“I did not get a good look.” He walked slowly over to the chair Ginger had been using. “May I sit?” Andru rubbed his midsection and Vi remembered what Ginger had said. She gave a small nod. “What else did I do that made you think I wanted to kill you?”
“You wanted me to ride the noru with the broken saddle—”
“I thought you were going out because you wanted to ride the noru.”
Vi stared at him, dissecting the words. They sounded truthful to her ears, which meant… “You really are dense.”
“What?”
Vi laughed at his expression, her whole body aching as a result. “That was all a ploy for Ellene and Darrus.”
“Oh. Oh.” She watched as comprehension lit up his face.
“And then everything about my being fit to rule, and maybe my brother should… you haven’t exactly been friendly with me.”
“What? I tried to be.” Andru leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. He looked at them, speaking more to his fingers than her. “I am not the best at making friends. I think.” His head slowly rose and he stared at her for a long moment. Then said, simply, “I am sorry, your highness.”
“May I speak plainly?” Vi asked thoughtfully.
“I should be asking that of you.”
She took his statement as a yes and let out a small sigh as the last of the tension that had wound between her shoulders was unleashed. When she spoke again, it was no longer in the drawn out way of nobility, but the simple phrasing she’d use for Jax, Ellene, or Jayme.
“I think I have as much to apologize for as you do. I could’ve—should’ve—been nicer to you from the start.” Vi gave a small huff of laughter, mostly at herself. “You know my brother even told me you were important, and I think that, with all I’ve had going on, I botched it.”
“I wouldn’t say that…” Andru said slowly. His eyes drifted to her letter box. “Romulin said I was important?”
“‘More important than I could imagine’,” Vi answered delicately. She studied his face, trying to read the expression that lingered there.
“Did he ever write anything else about me?” Andru asked in a small voice. He’d never spoken so plainly around her. Perhaps having a shared near-death experience was what they both needed.
“No…” He hadn’t. Vi blinked slowly, realization dawning on her. “He never really wrote about any of his friends.”
Andru seemed just as shocked as she was. “What did he write about then?”
“Books he was reading, mother and father, the court, news of the South, advice for how to manage things…”
“All very useful nuggets of information. Romulin’s terribly savvy.” Andru smiled.
Vi tried to smile back, but her mind was preoccupied for the moment by musings of a similar vein to what she’d thought around Andru before. How much did she really know about her brother? Vi had always imagined they were close… but what sort of music did her brother enjoy? What hobbies filled his days when he wasn’t in his lessons? She was certain she’d written about those things.
“Your brother was actually the one who encouraged me to take this post,” Andru continued, oblivious to her moment of turmoil.
“He was?” Vi tried to shake her discomfort. She was merely overreacting due to exhaustion, seeing things that weren’t there.
“Romulin wanted me to help prepare you, and I don’t think I’ve done that at all.”
“You saved my life, surely that counts for something?” She gave him a small smile and his eyes darted away.
“At least I did that… Otherwise I might be in trouble.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know if I’m doing my job well.” He folded and unfolded his fingers, eyes darting back and forth, not quite making eye contact with her. “I need to do my job well.”
“Isn’t your father head of Senate? Aren’t you basically set for life?”
He laughed bitterly, a sound Vi recognized because she’d made it herself.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Andru shook his head slowly. “My father is more of an ass than a donkey, and far more stubborn. You’re not the only one he has high expectations for.”
“At least you’re not an ass, then.” Vi sunk farther back into her pillows, ignoring the ache in her jaw from speaking so much.
“You don’t think so?”
“Not at all.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He let out an audible sigh, bringing his gaze back to her. Perhaps it was all in her mind, but Vi would swear he was beginning to look her in the eye more.
“There’s something else I wanted to ask you…” Vi hadn’t been planning on the conversation taking this tone when she first summoned him, and though she was glad it did, she needed to find out the truth.
“Which is?”
“On the bridge… did you see him?”
Andru went very still. He said nothing, hardly breathing.
“You did.” Vi let out a sigh of relief.
She didn’t expect having someone who knew even part of her secrets to be so relieving. Nor did she expect that someone, out of everyone, to be Andru.
“I don’t know what I saw.” He shook his head. “It was… It was like—”
“A monster?” An apt description, all things considered. “A man with glowing red eyes, not quite human?”
“And a magic to match,” he affirmed. “I thought… when I woke up, I thought I’d dreamed it but…”
“It was real,” Vi assured him. “What, exactly, did you see?”
“The sounds of your struggle woke me… But I only saw you on the bridge. I saw you both fall and as I reached out to catch you, a cage of lightning surrounded the man. By the time I had you in my arms, pulled in from the window, he had disappeared with nothing more than a flash.”
“I see…” Vi murmured. At least that explained, somewhat, why there was no body. She’d have to ask Taavin about the magic of the elfin’ra—learn what she was up against.
“What was that thing?” he whispered.
“A creature from very far away.” She didn’t bother launching into a description of a dark god and his acolytes. That was far more than would be useful for Andru in this moment. “Uncle says he’s going to investigate, but I doubt he’ll find anything… What I want to know is how he got here.”
“When you say very far away…”
“Farther than the Crescent Continent.”
“But there is nothing beyond the Crescent.” How wrong he was. But Vi didn’t see the point in correcting him. She never expected to pass up the opportunity to educate someone on geography, but today was turning into a banner one for firsts.
“You say there is nothing. But there are monsters. Trust me on this,” Vi half begged, half commanded. “As your sovereign and your new friend.”
“I do… I have no other choice after what I saw.” He shook his head. “Had I not, I would’ve had a much harder time believing it.”
“I’m glad you can affirm I’m not crazy, then.” On the list of possibly insane things to have happened to her, this wasn’t even at the top.
“It’s just that no one should be coming from the Crescent Continent. Trade was shut down due to the White Death.”
“Which is why I want to know who is getting in and out.” She would be certain to ask Taavin too, at the next possible opportunity. But first, exhaustion was beginning to catch up with her.
“I’ll see what I can find.”
“That’s all I ask.” Vi shifted slowly. Her whole body ached, and her torso felt more jelly-like than she remembered. Every shift and smile hurt her face. But she grabbed his hands with hers. Andru jumped, startled at the touch. His eyes drifted up to hers and they stared questioningly. “Thank you, truly.”
“For Romulin’s sister, I’d do anything.”
Vi hoped it was true. Because she had the distinct feeling that she would be asking more of him in the coming days.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The hours and her consciousness slipped between her fingers like unformed strands of magic for the rest of the day.
Jayme and Ellene stopped in at some point—either the first or second day, Vi couldn’t quite remember. The conversation was kept light, mostly her friends expressing relief that she was all right. Vi could sense some tension from Jayme, mostly stemming from guilt over not being the one to protect her. But, to her credit, the woman knew it wasn’t the time to dig into Vi about it. After spending so long speaking with Andru, Vi didn’t want to rehash everything. She needed a day to think and the quiet space to do it in.
On the morning of the third day, Vi created that space thanks to Ginger. She told the cleric that she wanted a day to rest and the woman became her sworn guard. Since breakfast, not even one servant had come in. Vi waited until Ginger returned to deliver lunch, knowing she should have a few more hours of uninterrupted time afterward.
Vi sat upright in her bed, as tall as she could manage. The room was cool; winter had finally taken hold in the North. A light breeze tickled between her fingers before the heat of her magic flowing freely replaced the sensation.
“Narro hath,” she whispered.
The light was thinner than normal, faint and flickering like a candle burning the bottom of the wick. But it was enough to carve a hazy outline. Her glyphs hadn’t been this weak since she first began.
Taavin stared at her for a long moment, hovering at the foot of her bed. His emerald eyes looked her up and down. Concern darkened his features.
“I’m fine,” Vi said before he could speak.
“You don’t look fine.” He crossed to her bedside, shifting strands of magic unraveling and then re-condensing until he solidified at her left elbow. It was as if he was sitting on the mattress, half leaning over her. Vi stared up at him; pressed back against her pillows, there was nowhere she could go. She was pinned beneath his gaze. Instead of focusing on his eyes darting all over her, she focused on keeping her magic wrapped tightly around her fingers. Should she have dressed in more than a simple sleeping gown before summoning him? When had summoning him in her bedroom, rather than her study, become more natural? “What happened to your face?”
“Is it that bad?” She smiled tiredly. Ginger had removed the majority of the bandages that morning. “I haven’t had the strength to look in a mirror yet.”
“You’re still beautiful, if that’s what you’re asking,” he whispered.
A spark crackled in her chest and her magic seemed to feed on it. He grew brighter, more solid. For a brief moment, Vi could almost ignore the glyph swirling around her hand and focus solely on him.
“I bet you say that to all the princesses you have clandestine meetings with.” She should’ve just said thank you. But Vi had to reach for the joke. If she didn’t, that meant acknowledging the feeling that had flooded her whole body at his flattery.
“I’m afraid you’re the only princess I meet with…” Taavin looked out the window. “The only person, really.”
“Where are you, Taavin?” Vi looked at his hand on the bed, light dancing where there should be contact. If she tried to touch him, what would it feel like? Would he be warm like sunlight? Or icy, like the misty illusions Waterrunners made? Would he feel like anything at all? Fear of the last answer being no was what kept her from reaching out.
“I told you, I am in Risen.”
“No, I don’t mean that.” Vi slowly shook her head. “Where are you? Where do you live? Is it hot or cold there? What do you see out your window?”
“Ah.” He made the sound of understanding, but said nothing for a long minute. Taavin stood, strolling over to the window—though Vi still wasn’t sure if he could see through it. When he spoke, he didn’t look at her. “I live at the top of the Archives of Yargen.”
“Is that a place where they keep the history of the goddess?”
“All the history of this mortal realm.” Taavin looked back to her. “Every record of the world’s knowledge is kept here… Well, what can be found, at least.”
“That sounds…” Her heart raced with excitement at the mere thought of it. “Beautiful.”
“I’ve only seen it from the outside twice.”
“Why?” Vi asked delicately.
“Why do you care?”
“I want to know you,” she said simply, honestly. Since when had baring herself become natural around him? Perhaps it was her wounds making her too tired to care about pretense. “I want to know what your days are like. What you eat. What you see when you look out your window.”
“I see… I see a view not unlike yours, actually,” he said softly. “A city sprawling beneath me. Far enough away that it looks more like a painting than an actual home for living, breathing elfin. I see the terracotta spires of the gilded palace adjacent to the archives. I can see the harbor where Risen nearly runs into the sea… I can see the worn whitewashing of buildings hiding behind slatted wooden shutters that hang on rusty, weeping hinges.”
“The way
you describe it makes me feel like I can see it too,” Vi whispered. She could envision those narrow cobblestone streets. The buildings packed too tightly together, like crooked teeth. But in her vision, her breath fogged the air, and snow lined the edges of walkways.
In her visions, it was Solarin she saw.
“I’ve spent a lifetime looking out that large window.”
“So have I.” Vi wished she could leave her bed and stand with him. She wished she’d summoned him not in her room, just once, so he could see the world beyond through her eyes… what little she had to show of it.
“You don’t seem quite so trapped.” He crossed back over, perching himself on the edge of her bed again.
“Then appearances are deceiving. I spend most of my days in these quarters… maybe out in the fortress to join Ellene for dinner. If I am on top of my studies and in everyone’s general good graces, I may walk the city below. But never freely, never without an escort. That’s the extent of my leash.”
His gaze was hard, closed off. For the first time, she wished desperately to know what he was thinking—but lacked the bravery to ask.
“If you are so sequestered… how did you obtain such injuries?”
Vi swallowed. This was the real reason she’d summoned him. It wasn’t to talk about windows or the worlds beyond. It wasn’t to lay eyes on his tanned skin and emerald eyes.
“Someone tried to kill me. An elfin’ra tried to kill me,” Vi hastily clarified before he could get a word in.
Taavin went very still. When he spoke, a protective edge limned his voice that Vi hadn’t heard before. “Tell me.” Vi obliged him—what little information there was. “They’re moving quickly…” he murmured when she finished.
“He used juth…” Vi started and then abandoned the question. Luckily, Taavin picked up her meaning.
“As I said before, the elfin’ra are splintered from the elfin. They know Yargen’s words, but twist them with Raspian’s power—as well as use words of Raspian’s own making.”