Failed Future (Air Awakens: Vortex Chronicles Book 3)

by Elise Kova

  “Or it’s merely a phenomenon we don’t yet understand. What’s more likely? Ancient prophecies or a natural anomaly to be investigated?”

  “Then there are the tears in the shift…” Sarphos said meekly, staring at his toes.

  “Tears?” All eyes were on him. Vi watched as he fidgeted with the bag strap over his shoulder.

  “Lord Raspian is rotting the world from the inside out,” Vi said finally, when Sarphos didn’t speak. “On the Dark Isle, people have fallen ill to a deadly plague from which there is no cure; we call it the White Death. There has been red lightning in the sky, now the corona around your moon, and I fear the tears in your shift are his work as well.”

  “Plague? Did you say plague?” Sarphos’s head snapped up.

  “Yes.”

  “What are its symptoms?” He was gravely eager. So much so that Vi had a horrible theory he already knew what she was about to say.

  “Stony skin, milky eyes, bulging red veins, madness, and—”

  “Sores that break and ooze white,” he finished solemnly. Vi nodded in acknowledgement. “It’s started to show here too.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Vi said softly. “Our healers couldn’t make headway with it. I don’t think there’s a cure beyond stopping Raspian.”

  “Don’t doubt Sarphos,” Arwin said defensively.

  “I don’t. He’s already helped me once.”

  “The journey looks to have taken a toll on you.” The king’s voice was almost sad. Vi didn’t need sympathy, but she’d gladly take it. “I shall open my home to you, Vi Solaris.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Arwin grumbled. Everyone ignored her.

  “She is to be my distinguished guest,” the king insisted. “See that she is made comfortable until she feels well enough to continue on her journey.”

  “I am to be saddled with—”

  “Enough, Arwin,” the king snapped, finally reaching his limit with his daughter’s objections. “I have spoken.”

  “Yes, father.” Arwin lowered her head.

  “Bathe, rest, eat, and recover tonight, Vi… For in the morning, there is something of grave importance we must discuss.”

  “Grave importance?” Vi repeated.

  “An object was bestowed on my forefathers long, long ago… well before history was recorded in your homeland. And I believe it belongs to you.”

  “I don’t understand.” What could he possibly have that belonged to her? Moreover, how would something like that even get to the Twilight Kingdom?

  “I never understood either… until this moment. But we shall discuss in the morning, for it is late now and you could use some rest underneath the safety of a friendly roof.” Noct gave a yawn, as if for emphasis, and when he finished, he waved them away.

  Arwin placed her hand on Vi’s shoulder, giving her a small shove toward the door she’d entered from.

  “Manners, Arwin.” Vi heard a soft snort over her shoulder. “When you have seen her settled… go with Sarphos to inspect these tears, and then return to me. There are things I must share with you regarding the Dark Isle.”

  Secrets on both sides of the ocean. Vi already knew what King Noct would say, and she didn’t envy those revelations. It didn’t take a prophecy to see that the hours looming before Arwin were destined to be filled with unpleasantness.

  “Very well, father.”

  “I could help show the tears,” Vi offered. Really, the last thing she wanted was for Arwin and Sarphos to be alone in the Twilight Forest. It would be too easy for him to out Taavin and she still had yet to get a firm grasp on their relationship. “Since I know of them.”

  “Can you find them confidently, Sarphos?” the king asked.

  “I can.”

  “Then you should rest.” Noct turned back to her with a small smile. “You look truly exhausted.”

  She was. But she wasn’t too exhausted to try to protect Taavin. “I don’t mind assisting.”

  “It’s all right, Vi,” Sarphos said. Vi looked to him and the man pointedly locked eyes with her. He gave a small nod that spoke volumes meant to be reassuring, yet it only put her stomach further in knots. “You can trust me to show her the tear.”

  And nothing else. Vi hoped that’s what was left unspoken.

  “Now that’s settled… Arwin, please see her to the north tower?”

  “If I must,” Arwin grumbled, before escorting Vi deeper into the palace of the Twilight Kingdom—and farther from the healer who knew her secret.

  Chapter Twelve

  “There will be a guard positioned at the entrance to the tower you’ll be staying in,” Arwin said without so much as glancing at her.

  “Am I a prisoner?” Vi looked back to the throne room. Sarphos was still speaking with King Noct. What if they were discussing Taavin? How quickly would King Noct’s hospitality turn to hostility? She should be ready to fight her way out of the castle at any moment.

  “If it were up to me, you’d already be in irons,” Arwin muttered. Then, louder, “No, you’re not a prisoner. But that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

  “I’m not here to make trouble.”

  “That’s what all troublemakers say.”

  “I suppose they do.” Vi sighed. No one who was about to stab you in the back gave any warning. There wasn’t any kind of armor that protected you from betrayal. The only defense was constant suspicion and vigilance. “I suppose I’ll think of this guard as an attendant, rather than a sentry.”

  “Whatever makes you happy, princess.” Arwin said princess as though it were a slur.

  “Are you not also a princess?”

  Arwin let out a massive snort followed by raucous laughter. “I am no princess.”

  “That’s what the daughter of a king is in my land.”

  “In the Twilight Kingdom, the lineage is passed only through the male bloodline. Daughters become sworn guards of the crown.” It was a surprisingly straightforward and informative answer from the woman who had been entirely callous thus far. Even though Vi’s questions on the logistics of royal succession abounded, she kept them to herself, not pushing the matter.

  Up two floors, Arwin led Vi across a narrow arcade.

  On one side was the courtyard she’d seen three stories below from King Noct’s throne room. On the other side, the Twilight Kingdom was visible through the archways and stone pillars. Vi admired its ethereal nature as they walked to the tower at the far end of the walkway and up a final flight of winding stairs.

  “You’ll use this as your room.” Arwin stopped at a doorway, the second one up the stairs that spiraled around the tower, and pushed it open.

  The soft light of the stars filtered in through a window that couldn’t be bothered with glass. Instead, a curtain of white, glowing flowers modestly obscured the view. There was a comfortable looking bed, a side table with a washbasin, and a tall dresser that hopefully had a clean change of clothes. As the king promised, everything she would need to be comfortable for a good night’s rest was there.

  “One door down is the bathing room for this tower. I do recommend you use it.” Arwin scrunched up her nose.

  “Yes, I need it.” Vi wasn’t about to let herself be offended by the obvious.

  “While you’re in the bath, I’ll see to finding you a change of clothes.” Arwin walked back down to the first door. “Emmie will be positioned at the start of the bridge. Ask her if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you.” Vi said, stopping before the bathing room as Arwin continued on.

  “Don’t thank me. I’m just following orders.”

  “Still, I’m grateful,” Vi called after her. Arwin didn’t look back.

  The bathing room was small but heated to steaming perfection. The nearly scalding water of the tub soaked off grime and eased away her tensions. Her mind wandered to Taavin.

  He was alone in that cave while she was enjoying the hospitality of the Twilight Kingdom’s royal family. Hopefully, Arwin wasn’t currently on her way to me
et him. Sarphos was supposed to show her the tears, but could she trust him to do only that?

  Despite the heat of the water, Vi’s shoulders tightened.

  As she wandered back up the stairs to her room, she wondered if there was a way she could sneak Taavin in. If Vi couldn’t keep Sarphos in her sights at all times, perhaps she should try to keep Taavin closer. No, it’d be impossible, she quickly decided. Gaining the trust of the king and keeping Sarphos close was the best she could do.

  When Vi returned to her room, she found the dresser full of lush fabrics in every color from pale grays to vibrant reds, embellished velvets and simple silks. There was everything she could imagine in every size.

  She found a pair of voluminous trousers in a dark violet hue that tapered around the ankle. There was room enough for her hips and butt, and they were surprisingly comfortable. After that, Vi donned a thin sleeveless shirt, meant to be worn beneath the coat embroidered with matching silver vines along the hemline.

  Vi lifted the jacket from the drawer. Its construction reminded her somewhat of Taavin’s intricately embroidered coat—a tight-fitting, tailored torso that split into four panels at the hips. However, where his extended down to his calves, this looked like it wouldn’t go past her waist. And where Taavin’s coat had a small upright collar, this had a large cowl. Vi ran her fingers over the fabric. It was just as fine as his, from the deep yet colorful dyes to the cut and intricate stitching.

  Vi clutched the garment to her chest, imagining what she held was indeed Taavin’s. Imagining he was there. She pressed her eyes tightly shut and took a quivering breath.

  “I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she breathed into the fabric, as though it could somehow carry her words to him. “I want to protect you.”

  He’d said terrible things happened to the people he loved. But Vi supposed her track record was no better. The only other people she’d loved were plagued, captured by pirates, struggling to keep an empire together, and watching their people die with little hope of a cure.

  Maybe they were both cursed.

  Vi returned the coat to the drawer and closed it. Her hands pressed on the outside, as if she could trap all her insecurities within. As if she could smother them.

  When her emotions had leveled, Vi walked over to the small washbasin. Grooming tools were set out around it, and Vi set to brushing through her hair. The process quickly reminded her of the discovery she’d made earlier: thanks to her escape from Adela, her hair was now at different lengths. Inspecting herself in the small hand mirror, Vi tilted her head left and right, looking at the longer hair on either side. She could braid it up and wait for it to grow out. Or…

  A pair of shears caught her eye.

  Vi carefully gathered her hair in her hands, suppressing a small shiver at the sound of the blades slicing through. Hair fell to the ground like the remnants of her past life. In just a few moments, it was over, and Vi’s free hand played with the freshly sheared edge of her hair—now almost all one length, just past her shoulders.

  She couldn’t remember the last time it had been this short.

  Staring at the pile of hair on the floor, she waited to feel something. Sadness, perhaps? Her hair was part of what had connected her to her grandmother, her father, and to her Western heritage.

  And yet… Vi felt very little.

  She had far more important things to worry about than hair.

  A firm knock on her door jostled Vi from sleep. She’d barely had time to open her eyes before Arwin was barging in.

  “Up. I have breakfast,” Arwin declared gruffly, standing at the foot of her bed and holding a tray in both of her white-knuckled hands. The silverware on the tray clanked together as a result of her barely contained rage. “I will tolerate no complaints. I am not your servant girl to boss around.”

  “I wasn’t going to complain.” Vi yawned and pulled herself upright. Her room was identical to how it had been when she’d gone to sleep—there was no sunrise or sunset in the Twilight Kingdom, no day or night, just the perpetual half-light of its namesake. She looked at the breakfast Arwin held and resisted the easy jab that for not being her “servant girl,” she sure looked the part.

  “What are you smirking at?” Arwin muttered, setting the tray down heavily at the foot of her bed.

  “I’m not smirking. I’m smiling because the food looks good.” Vi reached for the sandwich, not inspecting it too closely before taking a large bite. She wasn’t dead, and Arwin wasn’t throwing chains on her… That must mean Sarphos hadn’t told them about Taavin—or at least not told Arwin. Noct was still a wild card, but Vi suspected if he was a smart king, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to at least capture a valuable enemy like Taavin.

  No, Sarphos hadn’t told them anything, Vi decided.

  “Are you always so trusting?” Arwin’s voice cut through the silence and Vi’s thoughts like a sharpened axe. “Eating food put in front of you by strangers without so much as a sniff?”

  “If you had planned to kill me, you could’ve done it when I was sleeping, or in the bath, or the first moment you saw me.” Vi took another large bite for emphasis. Arwin looked away, staring out the window. When she wasn’t glowering at Vi, there was a softness to the woman Vi was unaccustomed to. “Why are you so mistrusting of me? I told you I’m not Faithful and I mean no harm to your people.”

  The woman tensed. Vi could see the biceps in her folded arms tighten over her hands tucked by the insides of her elbows. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt today and the lines of her bulging muscles were on display. Perhaps another show of power, another subtle threat.

  “You truly know nothing, do you?” Arwin said almost delicately. Her steely eyes drifted back to Vi. “You’re really from the Dark Isle?”

  “I am. And I know a great many things… But I admit there are serious gaps when it comes to knowledge of your land and people.” Vi paused, allowing Arwin’s continued scrutiny. “But I would like to learn.”

  “Why?”

  Once more, her original question popped into her mind. What had happened that led to the morphi—Arwin—to have such a deep mistrust of all outsiders? Sarphos’s words the night before still clung to her thoughts as well: Why was Taavin a monster?

  Vi wasn’t sure she wanted the answers, but she needed to know all the same.

  “Why not?” Vi asked simply. “Aren’t you curious about the Dark Isle?”

  Arwin held her gaze for a long moment. Just when Vi thought she was about to give in, she uttered a simple, “No.”

  “But—”

  “Finish your food. My father is waiting for you.”

  Vi did as she was told, and quickly donned fresh clothing in much the same fashion as the articles she’d found yesterday. She didn’t really need to change—what she’d gone to bed in hadn’t gotten dirty. It just felt good that she could.

  Arwin led Vi down the tower, across the walkway, down another flight of stairs, across a hall, down yet another spiral staircase, and into what Vi would best describe as a council room. The walls were stone, vertical tapestries running from floor to ceiling depicting champions with dotted foreheads standing victorious in battle. Between the tapestries hung weapons, the low light of the glowing stones hung above the center table gleaming off their polished edges.

  “I’ll get my father.” Arwin stepped forward and around the table toward the back of the room. Vi watched as the woman swung her arm in a circle, magic rippling across the wall like waves in a pond. The stones shifted, shimmered, and changed right before her eyes, redesigning themselves in the shape of an archway.

  Vi had been watching the whole time, yet, if pressed, she wouldn’t be able to tell someone how a solid wall transformed itself into a door. Luckily, Arwin didn’t look back before slipping through the new passageway. She didn’t see Vi’s awe.

  With nothing to do other than wait, Vi began to inspect the careful stitching and bright dyes of one of the tapestries. But she didn’t get far before Arwin and No
ct appeared in the archway.

  “Your highness.” Vi dropped to a knee.

  “Rise, child.” He spoke to her, but his focus was not on her. Rather, the king gave far more attention to the small wooden box he was carrying. Noct set it down on the table reverently.

  “Are you certain, father?” Arwin asked. For once, she didn’t sound indignant. She sounded… concerned. Worried. Ominous.

  “I am.” Noct turned his gaze to Vi. “My family has protected this with our royal shift for generations. But it is time for the weapon to be among the world of men once more.”

  He placed his hand down on the box and, in a single blink, it transformed into something entirely different.

  Vi’s eyes focused on the item wrapped tightly in a deep purple velvet. Time weighed heavy on the fabric, parts threadbare; the gold cord fastening was gray with dust. While Vi couldn’t see through the wrapping, it left little to her imagination: a long pole, connected to something flat and curved at one end—a scythe, she’d surmise. Though that only made her more confused.

  King Noct rested a hand on the non-bladed end of the weapon, then finally looked up at Vi. “Do you have any idea what this is?”

  Her eyes stayed glued to it. The watch was heavy around her neck, hot enough to nearly burn her skin, but Vi hardly noticed. A piece of her had been torn from her body, thrown into a different place and time. The surreal feeling raked up her spine and sank into her skull, impossible to shake, as she stared wide-eyed.

  “I don’t,” Vi said, her voice almost quivering. Though something insisted she did. She knew what it was… but not with her eyes. With something deeper rooted and less explicable.

  “The prophecy you mentioned… you said you were chosen by Yargen as her Champion,” King Noct began. “It reminded me of a piece of lore passed down in our family, generation to generation, dating back nearly a thousand years. My father told it to me, and his father to him—generations preparing one another should what I believe to be this moment ever come to pass.”