Crystal Crowned [ARC]

by Elise Kova

  “I am enduring nothing!” he shouted, less at her than the world. Aldrik swallowed hard, and Vhalla watched the lump in his throat bob like the invisible knot he was trying to dislodge. “Don’t you dare leave me, Vhalla Yarl Solaris. Not now.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed. Vhalla Yarl Solaris, she thought to herself. That was her name. So much had happened, but Vi was wrong. Vhalla hadn’t traded her fate. This was simply another turn of the vortex. The first Empress Solaris had died a fate connected to the Crystal Caverns; the second would do the same.

  Aldrik sprinted downward. The crystals no longer responded to their presence. They stayed dull and darkened as the two Imperials sprinted through the palace. Aldrik’s fingers dug welts into her flesh.

  His efforts were beautiful. He was beautiful. Even wounded, a chunk of his ear missing, that bump in his nose that had been set wrong—he was stunning to her. A shudder almost cast her from his arms, forcing the Emperor to slow.

  “Aldrik—”

  “Hush,” he commanded tensely. “Don’t talk, please, not one word. Save your strength.”

  He was on the move again, propelling them forward. His eyes remained glued to a distant horizon. Hope flickered through them, an ever elusive beacon in their world. Her vision blurred, and Vhalla finally began to panic.

  She didn’t want to lose him. Her magic was there, barely felt. But everything was disjointed. Nothing connected, forcing her into a limbo between life and death. Vhalla’s eyes fluttered closed. Victor had taken everything from her. He could not win the world, so he would settle for taking her part of it in death.

  “Vhalla, open your eyes.” Aldrik intentionally jostled her in his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder. “Open your eyes, damn it!”

  She obliged, a small sliver of light returning to her. She tried to think of how much ground he could’ve covered with her, where they would be going. His chest heaved in contrast to the small swells of hers.

  Imperial soldiers were ahead, a whole patrol of them. Aldrik’s feet quickened with the dangerous fuel that Vhalla knew to be hope. Her chest ached, and not just because of the beginning stages of cardiac failure.

  “Where is Elecia?” Aldrik barked, his voice thick and hoarse.

  “M-my lord?” The soldier was aghast at the visage of their Emperor carrying their dying Empress.

  “Lady Elecia Ci’Dan! Where did she set up her triage?” Aldrik’s grip tightened even further.

  Vhalla didn’t have the strength to tell him he was hurting her. She would be gone soon; no matter how much she struggled, death was a siren, and she’d fully heard its call. She missed any reply, her eyes fluttering closed once more.

  “We’re almost there,” Aldrik reassured frantically. “Elecia will fix you. I know she will.”

  The balmy summer hit her skin, and it was a breath of fresh air. Vhalla tried to place where she was in the palace. There were over a hundred gardens and a thousand possibilities. But chance didn’t work randomly in her world. The moment her nose picked up the faint scent of roses, Vhalla knew the Gods didn’t play games.

  “Elecia’s in the hall, just here,” Aldrik said frantically. Vhalla realized he was talking to her. “She’s coming. She’ll be—”

  The door to the greenhouse opened suddenly. “Let me see her,” Elecia announced.

  The woman’s fingers were on Vhalla’s face and neck. They ran down her body and back. They ghosted over her wound, unafraid of the gore, and paused at her breast over the fluttering beats of her heart.

  Elecia pulled her hands away, and no one said anything for a small eternity. Vhalla cracked her eyes open, turning to the Western woman. She tried to smile. She tried to be strong. Nothing was about her anymore. It was about them, those who would inherit the world they’d fought so hard for.

  “I don’t know what to do,” the healer confessed.

  “I know,” Vhalla whispered.

  “You’re going to die.” Elecia fought for her clinical detachment, but a whimper of emotion betrayed the facade. “Aldrik, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I don’t know—”

  “Start with the wound, ‘Cia. Please, please try,” Aldrik spoke with utter desperation.

  Elecia obliged, and Vhalla felt the other woman’s magic pouring into her. She felt it seeking pathways that had been broken and strewn to the winds, unable to knit the broken flesh and muscle. Her magic had been too damaged by the crystals. It would have to be fixed before any other healing could be done.

  The woman must have realized it in the same moment as Vhalla, because she stood suddenly. “I’m going to try to find Sehra!”

  Elecia had bolted out the door before any of them could react. She left silence and death in her wake. Vhalla blinked intensely. She wouldn’t leave now without saying goodbye.

  “Aldrik.” He was at her side in an instant. His long fingers scooped up hers, blood smearing across his gauntlets. “I’m so glad I saved you, back then.”

  “Don’t say goodbye, please.” He was close to breaking. He was fighting the obvious.

  “I don’t regret it. I don’t.” She could only hope he understood, that something she said would be enough for him to continue on without her.

  She was crying, Vhalla realized. The shining points of light of her memories illuminated the dark and tumultuous road that had taken her to this moment. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to give up everything she’d fought for.

  The door opened again, and both of their eyes looked at the lone figure. The princess floated over to the two Imperials, looking much more rested than the last time Vhalla had seen her. Two emerald eyes looked between Aldrik and Vhalla.

  “Sehra,” Aldrik pleaded. “Save her please, your magic, can it—”

  “I understand,” she whispered. The princess kneeled next to Vhalla. Her focus was only on the Empress. “You did well.”

  Vhalla was struggling to see. The princess faded, vacillating between her normal visage and something different. Hazy blurs and lines that didn’t quite connect. Long fingers, almost like Aldrik’s, cupped her cheek thoughtfully. The gesture was more forward than the princess had ever been.

  “The crystals’ magic is diminishing. They were never meant to be used as they were, manipulated for man’s greed. They weren’t left with that intent.”

  “What?” Aldrik asked Vhalla’s question.

  “You saw them.” Sehra spoke to both of them, to no one. “They turn brittle and shatter under their own weight. They will be gone by dawn.”

  “Princess, we need to act quickly,” Aldrik urged. “She’s dying.”

  “I know,” Sehra said without hesitation. “Vhalla Yarl, after all that you have been through, do you still want to be upon this earth?”

  “How can you ask that?” Vhalla opened her eyes. “Of course, I do.”

  “Of course,” Sehra repeated softly. “Very well. I will grant you the power of Yargen one more time. I will change this fate set before you.”

  The princess had a gently, almost motherly—familial—smile. She placed both hands on Vhalla’s face. Her whole palm tingled, and Vhalla felt the same light she’d experienced every time before.

  No, it wasn’t the same. Sehra’s power before had been like a battering ram, forcing its way into her. This was familiar, like it complemented her. It flowed through Vhalla’s veins with palpable force. Her heart beat in time to it. Her flesh mended with it. Vhalla blinked, the red dawn flashing a moment in the woman’s eyes.

  Whatever Sehra did, it worked. And when she pulled her hands away, Vhalla’s whole body felt warm, as though she’d been laying in the sun for hours. Her eyes fell back into focus, her breathing strengthened, her heartbeat regulated once more.

  The princess stood tiredly, swaying slightly.

  “Are you all right?” Aldrik took a step toward the young woman.

  “I am, but time is short,” she answered cryptically. “I’m no longer meant for this world.”
/>   Sehra started for the door. Aldrik looked between Vhalla and the Northern princess.

  “Sehra, we can seek out another cleric.”

  “No need.” Her hand paused on the door knob. Vhalla sat slowly, trying to make out the familiar glint in the woman’s eyes. “You did well, but things are only beginning now. The vortex still spins.”

  “Sehra!” Vhalla was on her feet, not realizing how quickly she could suddenly move, how strong she felt.

  “If that is the name you choose.” With those words, the woman vanished through the fogged glass of the door.

  Vhalla looked to Aldrik. He was confused. Which meant it hadn’t been a dream or hallucination. He’d heard those words. That had been real.

  “Sehra!” Vhalla cried. She threw open the door. “Sehra!”

  A cleric looked over from the gate leading into the Imperial hall, confused at the Empress’s cries.

  “Tell me,” Vhalla called. “Have you seen the Northern Princess Sehra?”

  “I haven’t seen the lady for hours,” he answered uncertainly.

  “Did you miss her?” Vhalla walked over quickly, Aldrik on her heels. “Could you not have seen her?”

  “I have been here since the Emperor took you-you . . . Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  “Just now, someone left.” Aldrik looked through the garden.

  “My lord, lady, I-I . . .” The man was clearly at a loss for words, incapable of giving them the answers they wanted. “I suppose, it’s possible, that I missed someone.”

  “Vhalla?” Elecia’s voice called. Sehra, Za, Jax, and Fritz were in tow. The group that was to be Vhalla’s mourning party. “You should lie down!”

  The Western noble crossed to her in a few hasty steps. Her hands were on Vhalla, but she barely felt them. Vhalla stared at Aldrik, and he met her eyes with equal confuson. There was no explanation that she could give him. Trying to explain the full details of her last, tragic encounter with Vi would be impossible now.

  Magic glowing around crystals that had looked like feathers.

  Fire that had saved her life by burning wheat.

  And a final encounter in a garden of roses.

  If that is the name you choose.

  It was a series of dreams connected by an impossibility. Something beyond her world. A force greater than everything Vhalla had ever known. Something that would fade with time into a vague dream-like memory.

  “Vhalla.” Elecia forcefully grabbed Vhalla’s face, pulling it back toward her. “What did you do? What did you take?”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Then how do you explain this?” Elecia grabbed the front of Vhalla’s shirt and pulled it up without concern for propriety. There, on Vhalla’s stomach, was soft pink flesh where a mortal wound had been moments before. Elecia turned to Aldrik. “You were with her.”

  “It-it must be something you did,” Aldrik inserted, grasping at any explanation.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  Vhalla’s eyes met the princess’s. It was as though the Northern woman somehow knew. Her mouth curved in a telling smile, all the information the Empress would ever be able to worm from her.

  “Maybe there was a cleric. We may have been misinformed,” Aldrik mumbled. He turned back to Elecia with conviction. “Elecia, is Vhalla—”

  “She’s amazing!” Elecia had eyes as wide as a child in a pastry shop. “I must find who did this. They may be the best cleric in the world. She should be dead; there’s no reason for her to be alive and healthier than ever. I must find out what they did!”

  Elecia dashed off, asking the same cleric Vhalla had just spoken to. She moved down the hall, one person to the next. But she wasn’t going to find anyone, Vhalla simply knew it to be fact. There was never anyone to find after.

  “So, you’re not actually dying?” Jax leaned against the iron gate with a dramatic sigh. “And here I had the best farewell speech planned.”

  “I guess it has to wait.” Vhalla gave him a small smile.

  “Good, I couldn’t handle any more death.” Fritz threw his arms around her shoulders, and Vhalla clutched him tightly. “Thank the Mother.”

  Perhaps they had more reason than they all knew to thank the Mother, Vhalla thought to herself, briefly. One impossible and unlikely explanation of what had happened was just as good as any other.

  “Grahm?” she whispered into her friend’s ear.

  He just shook his head. Vhalla couldn’t translate his shining tears. Were they joy? Were they telling her not to worry now? Or were they world-crushing sorrow?

  Whatever it was, Vhalla would be at his side to shoulder those emotions as well.

  “My lady.” Aldrik’s voice was heavy with something that she couldn’t quite decipher.

  She turned back to her lord. He held her gaze with every bit of adoration the world had been capable of producing. Vhalla’s arms slid from around her friend’s.

  Vhalla turned to stand right before the Emperor. The man who she’d met as the Fire Lord, the aloof and distant prince. The man she’d fallen in love with. The man who’d been constant while she’d grown—side by side and even when apart.

  They’d been pushed to the brink and pulled back again. Throughout it all, they’d managed to keep a few friends alive, but had lost so many along the way.

  “What do we do now?” she breathed.

  “Now?” He took a step toward her, crossing her personal space. Aldrik hooked her chin, guiding it upward. “Now, we rule, we live, and by the Mother, we get a bit of time to love.”

  “Do you promise?” Vhalla’s hands curled around his armor.

  “More than anything, this I promise.” The corner of his mouth pulled up into a one-sided grin.

  He couldn’t look at her like that. Vhalla tugged him and kissed him before friend and subject alike as dawn broke upon the Solaris Empire.

  EPILOGUE

  Winter fell heavy in the mountains. Snow painted a thick white carpet across the barren earth, save for the hoof-prints and wheel ruts left behind the carriage. It was a large and unnecessarily lavish contraption, even by her standards; it creaked and moaned as it bumbled up the rocky mountain roads. A wheel snagged momentarily in a particularly large divot, which sent everything within the cabin lurching, a curly-haired Western woman included.

  “Watch where you are driving!” Elecia stuck her head out the window, instantly regretting the decision as wind whipped about her face, blowing snow into her eyes.

  “Apologies m’lady! It’s difficult to see with all this snow!” the driver called back.

  Elecia sat back down in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. An Imperial summons. It had finally come to that. Her cousin and that crazy Eastern woman he had taken for a wife had been all too determined for months to get Elecia back South.

  She plucked the letter from where it had slipped onto the floor. The words were hard to read amidst the jostling, so she quickly folded it, stashing it into the small leather purse at her side. Resting her elbow on the small shelf built upon the tiny door of the carriage, Elecia looked out at the winter world surrounding her. If they were going to be so stubborn, then she would dig her heels in as far as she could.

  “I hate snow,” Elecia muttered to herself.

  After the battle, Elecia had eventually returned to the West. She had stayed through the last Southern winter to help heal the remaining wounded soldiers and, upon Aldrik’s request, to help reestablish a clerical program in the palace. Elecia had, of course, bemoaned her sacrifice the entire time she remained there. But she kept it to herself that she actually had enjoyed having full control of how she thought clerics should be trained. When she left things were running smoothly in the capable hands of a particularly talented healer named Luzbelle.

  It hadn’t all been smooth. Dissenters were still rampant through the winter and Jax, who had been made head of the guard, was busy trying to get the city—and Empire—bac
k under control. Aldrik was often busy with Jax in that respect, and many nights Elecia had found the two men deep in argument over how best to ensure the continent was once more safe and loyal. It had pleased her to see that, even as things returned to normal, her cousin still avoided the bottle. She saw how he looked at it on long days, but Aldrik never touched it. Even when Jax gave in and sipped from his own glass.

  The last she heard, Jax was being sent off to the East to help rebuild there. It was an equally personal mission as he went hunting for Daniel. But their last correspondence had painted a bleak picture on that front. It made her contemplate how he was doing on many an occasion. She wondered if he was back in the South, or if he had just decided to take up residence in Hastan. Elecia wondered, but she had a pretty good idea already.

  Eventually, as what often occurred, people tired of fighting. The crystals had vanished, remaining as mysterious as they’d ever been. They had fractured and broken down, shattering under their own weight before turning to dust. It was as though all the magic had been exhausted, and Elecia couldn’t fathom how no matter how hard she tried.

  The caverns had been crystal-free and filled with dust when Vhalla and Aldrik had sent Groundbreakers to check. Even still, they left nothing to chance. The Groundbreakers had collapsed the mountainside. One of their first Imperial decrees was striking the infamous place from all maps and records.

  She hummed to herself, and a little smile crept upon Elecia’s face. She was looking forward to seeing them all once more. She allowed herself to enjoy life and be excited now. The last thing she wanted any of them to see was her enthusiasm at the idea of a reunion. Mother forbid they got the idea that she would stay longer than necessary. She had an image to upkeep.

  However, the luggage strapped to the back of her carriage may betray her. Even her father had questioned the quantity of possessions she had brought. Elecia scolded him for thinking a woman could need anything less. He said little else, his focus fraying with her mother leaving for the North.