Crystal Crowned

by Elise Kova

  southward. That would only be a small portion of the destruction she’d reap. She’d turn Victor’s power against him and take the world from under his feet.

  She stood staring at the destruction before her until people began to stir.

  Aldrik said nothing about her morning walk as they rode. He attempted to strike up various conversations with her, but none sparked, and he was left talking around her to Jax or Fritz. Elecia was equally quiet, her eyes heavy on Vhalla.

  But Vhalla ignored them all. She kept her eyes trained on the great, distant horizon that she suspected would be her final battle field.

  They marched through lunch into the afternoon, finally striking camp at dinnertime.

  Vhalla sat at their shared campfire for a few moments as everyone eagerly dug into their portions. She passed her meat from hand to hand, and then passed it off to Jax. The man regarded her with concern but didn’t say anything.

  “You hardly ate,” Aldrik said when she stood.

  “Not hungry.”

  “Where are you going, Vhal?” Fritz asked from across the campfire.

  “To spar.” Someone would be willing to help her relieve the nervous energy that crawled under her skin.

  “You should eat more.” Aldrik caught her wrist.

  “I told you, I am not hungry.” There was an edge to his voice that only she seemed able to hear. It was an awful grating sound that didn’t appear to bother anyone else.

  “Vhalla, please,” he encouraged.

  “I will eat what I please!” She wrenched her hand from his grip. A frown crossed her husband’s face, an expression that Vhalla couldn’t endure. It swayed her mind into more familiar territory. “I just . . . want to work on my swordsmanship.”

  Vhalla vanished before any of them could say anything else—hunting down the first partner she could find.

  One parry, two, repeat; the pattern rang through her head in time with the steel vibrating in her hand. Turn, dodge, duck, lunge, kick, she was getting better. The unsuspecting swordsman had claimed he would be all too honored to be the Empress’s practice for the night, but he’d bitten off more than he could chew against the Windwalker.

  Five exhausted partners later, Vhalla sheathed her sword. Sweat rolled off her face, and she panted heavily, but she was no closer to feeling satiated. Victor’s energy still churned underneath her skin.

  The next day, her head began to hurt on and off. She could feel Victor’s presence, like a shadow clinging on her back, and it was becoming more and more difficult to sort her emotions from his. This Bond was unlike anything she had felt with Aldrik.

  Damn crystals.

  The forest grew denser with each passing day, and the ground began to turn into hills that would later become mountains and valleys. Vhalla kept her eyes down for most of the day, silent, focusing on keeping Victor’s magic contained within her. Closer, she realized. Each sway of the horse was bringing her closer to her goal. Shouldn’t she feel happier?

  Happiness was illusive, and her dreams began to occur more regularly. No, they weren’t dreams. They were memories. And their assaults were more aggressive than it had ever been with Aldrik.

  “What’re you gonna do about it, huh? Man witch?” a boy, barely old enough for a coming of age ceremony, taunted. “Gonna use your magic on us?”

  Victor, no older than thirteen, stood with his back against a wall. Based on the construction of the buildings, he appeared to be somewhere in the capital.

  “Yeah, magic boy, let’s see it.”

  Victor scowled and ran his thumbs over the tips of his fingers. “You wouldn’t want that, I’m warning you.”

  “Warnings?” The first boy glanced between his two friends. “I think he’s scared.”

  “I’m not scared of a Commons,” Victor swore. “You should be scared of me.”

  “We’ll see.” The boy cracked his knuckles and swung.

  Victor dodged and put his hand on the boy’s chest. Ice covered his torso, rendering his arms mostly immobile from the elbow up. The second boy stepped forward, and Victor repeated the process with confidence.

  “Don’t want to fight me now?” he asked the remaining riff raff.

  The last boy shook his head.

  “Hey, hey.” He held out his arms and placed his palms on the half frozen children. The ice vanished into the air. “Look, we can all still be friends.”

  Two just chattered, while the third looked too horrified to speak.

  “I need you to remember two things though . . . The first is to never think you’re better than a sorcerer—ever again.” Victor patted what had been the leader on the shoulder, grinning brightly.

  “The second is to remember that you belong to me now.”

  The boys, the alley, faded away like black smoke. There was only the young Victor before her, as arrogant and triumphant as his adult counterpart.

  He looked up at her, and Vhalla was frozen, helpless to do anything.

  “Now, you’ve been very naughty, raiding my mind,” the boy spoke slowly. “Let’s see what’s in yours.”

  Vhalla felt him. She felt his magic like icy fingers peeling back and penetrating the depths of her mind without her consent. He probed her, taking what was most precious to her.

  “No . . .” Her protest was weak, his magic already within her.

  A young woman with a mess of hair sprinted through the darkness, a new world building under her footsteps. She put her shoulder to the Imperial library’s door and pushed. Vhalla willed it to stop. She wished for nothing more than to stop the replay of her life before her eyes.

  “There he is.” Victor’s voice echoed in her ears. “Let’s see, did you find him attractive then?”

  Vhalla remained silent, trying to hide her emotions. But she felt the echo of her dream self. The way Aldrik had first captivated her with his unconventional appeal. Victor felt it too; she knew he did by the satisfaction in his voice.

  “I read all his little notes to you. The ones you hid away in your room. He never had time for apprentices, he always claimed, but I guess that didn’t extend to girls whose legs he wanted to spread.”

  Rage betrayed her.

  “There it is! There’s the anger!” he egged on.

  Vhalla focused on the young woman before her, watching Aldrik lead her past self through the bookshelves. They both looked so much younger. There wasn’t a scar on her body. The dark circles under his eyes were only just forming.

  “Yes, yes, you love him so much, you can’t hide it from me. But, Vhalla, I-I can be kind. I will show you. Tell him to give up his claim to the throne, and I will let you both fade away. If his army bows to me, I will let you both flee across the sea.”

  “I will kill you.” Her voice quivered with barely controllable rage.

  “No, I think not.” Victor chuckled, his voice growing distant. “The longer we are linked, the more our lives grow entwined. If I die, you will die.”

  “That’s not true. Bonds don’t work that way.” She remembered Aldrik telling her so, and Vhalla needed it to be true now more than ever.

  “But it is true. I will make sure it is. Because I don’t think he will kill me if it means killing you.”

  “You lie,” Vhalla screamed mentally. “You lie!”

  Vhalla woke with a start. Her skin was flushed, and her blood boiled within her as if trying to purge Victor like an infection. She cradled her face in her hands and, for the first time, contemplated running.

  No, Vhalla shook her head at herself. There was no one else. Even if she could find another Windwalker, they’d never withstand this burden. Even if they were willing, they would die before they ever had enough training to be a threat.

  A movement from behind startled her. Vhalla turned, her hands flying from her face. Magic was ready upon her fingertips when Aldrik caught them effortlessly. She panted softly, withdrawing the power she’d been ready to unleash on him.

  “Vhalla,” Aldrik whispered softly. The blankets pooled aro
und his waist as he sat. “What is it?”

  “Don’t touch me.” She twisted, avoiding the hand that sought her cheek.

  “Vhalla!” He heaped frustration upon her name. “You waste away before my eyes. I cannot convince you to eat. You thrash in your sleep. And now, now I may not touch you?”

  Vhalla stared at her bare-chested husband. Their rations had yet to expire, and the training had been good on his body. In stark contrast, her arms looking more gangly, her waist thinner. She resisted a stirring of want, not the first she’d fought on the march since the gate. Monsters weren’t allowed to want Emperors.

  “No.” She withdrew. “You may not.”

  Aldrik stared as though she had slapped him. He didn’t utter another word as Vhalla dressed and clipped into her armor.

  The Emperor let her go.

  Jax waited outside the tent, scrambling to his feet as she stormed out.

  “Go,” Vhalla ordered. She was struggling to contain the rage within her.

  “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Jax jested.

  Vhalla spun on her heel, glaring up at the Westerner. Her hand had flattened and her fingertips stopped at his throat. The broken nail of her middle finger scratched lightly against the hard knot in his neck, right where she had been ready to gouge. Jax didn’t even flinch. He either trusted her a great deal, or he truly didn’t care about dying. Both seemed equally likely.

  “Elecia’s right, you are not well, are you?” he whispered.

  Vhalla eased away. “I’m fine.”

  “Vhalla, you should—”

  “I am your Empress!” Her voice raised half a fraction as she raised a finger, pointing it at the tall Westerner’s face. “And you, you fallen disgraced lord, will not tell me what I should and should not do.”

  Jax blinked down at her. Vhalla’s breathing was heavy. When he said nothing, she continued on her way alone. Being alone was fine, because if it came to it, Jax wouldn’t be able to protect her. None of them could touch her any longer. The more she trained, the stronger she became. She was evolving into something better than them all.

  HER THEORIES WERE proven true when an enemy force greeted them halfway through the Great Southern Forest. Victor had planned this attack carefully, and it wasn’t until giant flaming trees were falling upon the Imperial army that they even realized the enemy surrounded them. Vhalla watched as the first tree fell, soldiers scrambling out of its way ahead of her, and wondered if she should just let them die. Any who couldn’t protect themselves didn’t deserve life.

  However, her hand moved and pushed tree after tree away with gust after gust, sparing her mostly Commons army.

  The enemy charged from their hiding places on either side of the road. Vhalla was off Lightning within seconds, her sword drawn. She would tear them all apart herself, with steel or wind.

  The first sound of her blade crunching through a skull was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. Vhalla couldn’t keep a gleeful smile off her face as she turned and depressed a hand into another’s mouth. The woman’s eyes widened and Vhalla savored the look. There it was. That moment right before someone’s death. The split second when they realized their own mortality. That they were going to die by her fingers. She’d never allowed herself to enjoy it before and, oh, she’d been missing so much!

  Licking her lips, tasting her kill, Vhalla was already onto the next one. The skies opened, and a late autumn rain drenched the field. Vhalla trusted wind more than ground to keep her feet from slipping.

  The rain washed off her trophies, and Vhalla was forced to keep up with the downpour if she wanted any of the satisfying crimson.

  Kill them.

  Yes, she agreed.

  Kill them all.

  She vowed she would.

  Enemy sorcerers were still in the treetops to rain arrows and fire down to the ground. Vhalla pushed them to their deaths one by one. She bobbled them like toys on the way down, deciding if she wanted to kill them from the fall or tear them apart with her hands.

  The heartbeat in her ears would’ve driven her mad if she hadn’t given herself to it. It was physically painful to resist. And it had always been her lifeline in battle.

  Vhalla’s hand clamped down on another mouth. What number was this? Too many to count. Too many to count! She stared at the wide eyes, a mad grin curling her cheeks.

  A shoulder slammed into Vhalla’s side, destroying her focus before the final blow could be delivered. Vhalla snarled, ready to assault the wretch who had dared interrupt her.

  “Vhal, stop!” Fritz shouted over the rain. His hair stuck to his face like a wet mop.

  “M-my lady,” the soldier Vhalla had been about to kill stuttered. “The-the ‘X’ . . . I fight for you.”

  “Go.” Vhalla didn’t even offer an apology to the ally she had been about to slay. She just grabbed her head with her hands.

  “Vhal . . .” Fritz walked forward slowly.

  “Fritz, I don’t want you,” she remarked with blisteringly short temper. Even his face annoyed her.

  He took another step toward her. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “If I told you, what do you think you could do?” she shouted. “You could not even complete your apprenticeship vessel creation!”

  Fritz paled. He stared with eyes as hopelessly vast as the ocean. Vhalla panted, her nails digging into her scalp. Her head was beginning to hurt again, and, thanks to Fritz, she hadn’t even been able to assess the field to see if they could afford to be talking.

  “Vhal, I . . . I never told you that.”

  “Yes, you did,” she muttered trying to recall exactly when.

  “No, I didn’t.” He blinked rain from his eyes. “I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to think your friend was just a screw up.”

  “I already knew you were a screw up!”

  The look of hurt that crossed her friend’s face was so genuinely raw that it summoned something equally real from deep within her, a woman she once knew. A woman she’d been. Vhalla’s hand rose to her mouth in shock.

  “Fritz,” she breathed at his back. “Fritz, wait—”

  “Sorry, Lady Empress, I didn’t mean to trouble you with the likes of a screw up like me.” His voice was barely audible over the rain.

  “I didn’t mean that!” Her efforts were for nothing as he walked back toward the main host where it regrouped along the road.

  Vhalla stared numbly at the battlefield. How many people had she killed? Had any begged for their lives? Had she killed another ally before the one Fritz had saved from her? Vhalla honestly couldn’t say.

  She dropped her head, her fingers digging into the blood and mud around her. This was not the Empire she had wanted to build. This was not the Empress she had wanted to be.

  This is the Empress you were born to be.

  “Lady Empress,” Jax said stiffly, interrupting her from her thoughts. His voice echoed through her ears as though she was trapped underwater. She was drowning, and they all still thought she was breathing. “The majors are meeting to regroup.”

  He left her before she could say anything.

  The meeting tent had clearly been treated by Waterrunners, as it was perfectly dry within. Flames hovered near every person, both drying and warming. Vhalla took her place at Aldrik’s right hand at the front of the room.

  “The swords sustained the majority of the casualties,” a cleric reported.

  “Though it is not so substantial that we would need to reform our ranks,” another added.

  “If the false king continues to attack by trees, we may want to consider spreading archers through the column for a faster response.”

  “It may be a safe thing to do,” another agreed.

  “My Emperor, what do you think?” the major deferred the responsibility.

  “Let me consult with the Empress,” Aldrik said suddenly.

  Vhalla turned, realizing he’d been staring at her the whole time. The majors departed on command. Jax didn’t so
much as look at her, whispering hastily to Elecia.

  “Vhalla . . .” Aldrik crossed the gap between them. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.” She avoided his gaze.

  “You fought well.”

  She winced at the compliment.

  “You are becoming a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.” Aldrik tried leaning forward to catch her eyes. “So, what do you think we should do?”

  “Whatever you and the majors think is best.” She sighed heavily. “I am very tired. I trust you.”

  “I need your opinion.” He was being relentless.

  “Why?”

  “Well, you said you could feel him . . .” Vhalla looked up sharply at the Emperor, a scowl growing on her face as he spoke. It only made him speak faster, and the more he opened his mouth the further his foot went into it. “I know, I understand, that you may not want to. But for us—no, for everyone—for all of our subjects, if you can find out what his next move is, then we can prepare.”

  The laughter escaped as a spasm of amusement. It quivered her breath, trembled her shoulders, until it erupted as a raspy noise between her lips. It silenced Aldrik and brought a paused, distant look she’d not seen in some time.

  “I see.” She stepped away from him. “I see. You are your father’s son after all.”

  “What?”

  “So willing to use my magic to get what you want. ‘Hush, Vhalla. It’s not a Bond Vhalla.’ It’s easy, not having him in your ear.”

  Aldrik stepped back as though she’d struck him.

  “You don’t know what it’s like having him in your head!” she shouted and didn’t care who may hear. “You want me to listen to him? To all the words he tries so hard to whisper into my subconscious? To all the visions he shows me if I dare shut my eyes and try to sleep.”

  “Vhalla—” Aldrik returned to life.

  “How many times must I tell you not to touch me?!” She wrapped her arms around herself, her nails breaking as they dug into her armor. “Don’t do it, Aldrik. Don’t give him one more scrap of emotion to take from me and turn into something else. To use as fuel to break me down.”

  Her knees hit the ground, and Vhalla looked up at him, pleading. She looked at him as though he were the Father incarnate. Ready to beg him to take her to the realms beyond.