Vortex Chronicles: The Complete Series

by Kova, Elise

  “You said you were a healer—that it was your oath to heal people.”

  “Oaths can be broken,” Saphos seethed.

  “I know that too well,” she spat back. “Just as I also know that when negotiations break down, force may be necessary. Help him or you will not go back to the Twilight Kingdom alive. Help him or I will find the Lord of the Faithful myself and tell him that the Voice has died because of you.”

  The last thing Vi ever wanted to do was align herself with Ulvarth. But Sarphos didn’t need to know that.

  Sarphos continued to stare at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. “If you kill me, King Noct will demand retribution.”

  “I am not of your land, and I do not fear your king. I am from across the sea—across the Shattered Islands. I am from the Dark Isle, and this man is my only ally here. Do not underestimate what I would do for the people I love.”

  The glare Vi gave Sarphos hid her shock. She kept her feet on the ground, even if her head was reeling.

  People I love… Love… She loved him. Her heart felt like it had just shattered into a thousand pieces only to have them all start beating in unison—a chorus that sang for Taavin alone.

  Sarphos spat a curse at her in a language she didn’t understand. Vi was unflinching and unremorseful. Sarphos, however, was slowly worn down.

  “If I heal him… he will harm my people.”

  “He won’t.”

  “If you’re from the Dark Isle as you say, you have no idea what he’s done, or what he’ll do.”

  “I know him far better than you,” Vi insisted. “I’ve known him for nearly a year now. He’s not a violent man, regardless of what the Faithful do. They do it without him.”

  Sarphos grumbled and shook his head, running a hand through his ruddy hair. “You really must be from the Dark Isle if you think the Faithful move in any way the Voice doesn’t command.”

  “Please, Sarphos, as a healer—help him… And I give you my word he won’t harm your people.”

  “She gives me her word. What’s her word good for?” Sarphos grumbled as he knelt down. Vi let him have his gripes; she’d clearly won. His eyes trailed over Taavin, taking quick stock, before flicking back up to her. “I didn’t have you pegged as someone who could be so brutal.”

  Neither did she a few mere weeks ago. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  “I suppose I don’t,” Sarphos muttered, placing his hands on Taavin’s chest. Delicately, he lifted Taavin’s shirt. Vi looked on warily, making sure he didn’t get any smart ideas. But Sarphos was focused, his gaze serious. He had shifted from the morphi loyalist to just a cleric tending to a patient.

  Vi held her breath, waiting for his assessment, and praying she’d done enough in time to save the man she’d fallen in love with.

  Chapter Ten

  Vi’s gaze lingered on Taavin’s face. He looked so frail and small—something she never thought she’d say of the man. But wounded and prone, he seemed all too fragile. Her thumb lightly caressed the back of his hand.

  “It’s not too serious.” Sarphos pulled away and began to rummage through his satchel.

  “This looks serious.”

  “It’s becoming quite serious,” he agreed. “But the wound itself is uncomplicated—some broken bones, internal bleeding, and an infection going unchecked brought about by improper hygiene. All of those things have a clear and simple fix. He should be back to his normal, tyrannical self in no time.”

  Vi pressed her fingertips to her lips, suppressing an involuntary noise of relief. Perhaps Raspian’s distortions hadn’t gotten on Taavin. She dared to hope.

  “Prop him up for me.”

  Vi did as Sarphos instructed, shifting to slide an arm under Taavin’s back. He was dead weight and nearly impossible to lift, but Vi managed it. Sarphos gingerly tilted his head back, parting Taavin’s lips and pouring the inky liquid she’d seen earlier down his throat.

  “Will he choke?”

  “No, the potion will be absorbed before it even gets to where his lungs split off.”

  She turned her attention back to Taavin, continuing to hold him. Sarphos continued giving small doses of the medicine, counting quietly to himself. Just when the bottle was almost empty, Taavin’s eyes jolted open and he erupted in a fit of coughing.

  Vi shifted her arm further around him, patting his back as he wheezed and gasped. Sarphos inched away. She narrowed her eyes at the healer, silently reminding him of her threat if he dared to run. But Sarphos was distracted and soon, too, was Vi.

  “Vi?” Taavin whispered.

  “Taavin.” His name was a breath of relief on her lips.

  Vi leaned forward without a thought. Her forehead pressed against his and tightened her arm, their noses nearly touching. Her eyes dipped closed and for three blissful seconds she just listened to him breathe, feeling his frail form against her. Feeling him wonderfully alive.

  “You terrified me,” she murmured, pulling away.

  “That feeling is mutual. I thought you’d gone off on your own and left me.” Taavin’s hand tried to reach for her face, but only made it to her forearm.

  “I wouldn’t leave you.”

  Sarphos cleared his throat, reminding them both of his presence.

  Taavin’s eyes peeled away from hers. He turned slowly, looking Sarphos up and down. The morphi healer returned the glare inch for inch.

  “You did wander far, I see…” Taavin muttered. She could feel the tension rising between Taavin and Sarphos.

  “Sarphos is a healer of the Twilight Kingdom. He’s the one who’s helping you.” Helping. Not helped. She hoped Sarphos’s care would be ongoing until Taavin was back at full strength.

  “I see…” Taavin ground out, his jaw tense. Though his face relaxed when he looked back to her. “How did you find a morphi healer?”

  “She claims she went through a tear in the shift. Something I have not forgotten she promised to show me,” Sarphos interjected.

  “A tear? Vi, you didn’t—”

  “Yes, I did. And I haven’t forgotten, I will still show it to you,” Vi interrupted and gave Sarphos a look. He’d kept his side of the bargain, she’d keep hers. She turned back to Taavin, putting his protests to rest with a short, “You were weak and getting worse. I had no other choice.”

  “You have a choice now—don’t go with him.” Taavin grabbed her arm. “I don’t want you leaving my sight… I don’t want you going somewhere I can’t get to.” Taavin’s palm finally found her cheek. Vi leaned into it slightly, her eyes dipping closed. He’d been the only one to touch her this way.

  “As the crown princess of the Solaris Empire, I must keep my word.” Vi gingerly trailed her fingers up his arm. “Just as you must keep the word I gave on your behalf, in exchange for Sarphos’s help—that you will not harm any morphi while you’re here.”

  “I will not harm a single morphi, so long as they don’t harm you.” Taavin’s eyes swung to Sarphos.

  “We do not harm unjustly.” Sarphos seemed to emphasize the word unjustly an odd amount—as if to imply Taavin would. His rage toward Taavin was something Vi still didn’t fully understand.

  “I can protect myself,” Vi reminded Taavin.

  “I know you can…” Taavin sighed, his eyes shining in the dim light of Sarphos’s glowing stone. “Please, be careful.”

  “I will be.”

  “We should go,” Sarphos needlessly reminded. As if Vi wasn’t aware her time was running short. “The king is expecting me.”

  “I’ll come back as soon as I’m able,” Vi vowed.

  “If anything happens to you I—” His throat closed and he choked on the word. Taavin shook his head, continuing down a different path. “I finally have you in reach and I’ve barely had a chance to speak to you.”

  “And we keep getting pulled apart.” Vi gave him a small smile. “I know… But the road to my father, to figuring out this—” she touched the watch around her neck “—isn’t going to be a short
one. We’ll have plenty of time. For now, we both need to focus on starting that road at full strength.”

  “I agree with all that,” he reiterated. “But it doesn’t mean I want you to go.”

  Vi searched his eyes. Had their faces always been this close? Or had they been slowly moving together?

  Near. Far. Near. Far.

  Back and forth they swung, a pendulum that never lost its momentum. The closer she got to him one moment, the further he felt the next. Vi closed her eyes, taking a slow breath through her nose. She leaned forward, resting her forehead lightly against his one final time.

  But Vi didn’t kiss him, not with an audience. Not now, when he still looked of death and smelled of potion. She’d kiss him when they were next together—when they were both stronger. In her mind, that future joining of mouths and tongues was an unspoken promise—to whom, exactly, she wasn’t sure.

  “Be careful,” she whispered, and quickly stood, giving a nod to Sarphos. The man now wore an entirely new, strange, expression. “I’m ready.”

  “Very well then. Until I return with stronger, more tailored potions, continue drinking that, and chew on those. And whenever you feel strong enough… do try to take a bath.” Sarphos pointed to the various healing accoutrements he’d left before he pushed himself through the crack.

  Vi looked down at Taavin once more, already regretting her decision not to kiss him.

  “Taavin… I…” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “Yes?” Had his breathing hastened? Or was it her imagination?

  “I hope you feel stronger soon. I’ll be back as soon as I’m able.” Vi side-stepped through the craggy opening, reminding herself of the one thing Taavin had made clear: terrible things happened to the people he loved. Thus, he didn’t want to love anyone, or have anyone love him.

  Under no circumstances could she let him know he’d well and truly stolen her heart.

  “Ready?” Sarphos startled her from her thoughts as she emerged from the small cave.

  “Yes, this way.” Vi started on ahead, walking along the bank of the stream. Just once she considered ignoring her promise to Sarphos about showing him the tear. But Vi knew she had to keep her word. New plans were already forming in her head. “Thank you, Sarphos, for healing him.”

  “You didn’t leave me with much of a choice.”

  “That makes me no less grateful.”

  “I suppose, in a way, I should be thanking you.” Sarphos ran a hand through his ruddy hair.

  “Why?”

  “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes… I would’ve never thought the monster capable of compassion, let alone affection.”

  They reached the singed tree that marked the point Vi had diverted from the stream. Sarphos at her side, Vi followed her earlier markers into the dark woods.

  “Why do you call him a monster?” She didn’t want to make small talk. But when it came to Taavin, she wanted to understand the source of Sarphos’s vitriol.

  “If you are from the Dark Isle, as you claim—”

  “Which I am.”

  “—then there’s no way you could understand. This is not your fight.”

  Vi sighed, pausing a moment to locate the next singe mark before moving on. “Maybe not… But Taavin is very important to me, and I’d like to understand the conflict as it relates to him.”

  “You may not be able to hear the truth, as you have already been taken in by Faithful lies. But if you can, trust me when I say that there’s good reason why many in this world would kill me for not letting him die and rot in that cave. Even then, that would be a death far better than he deserves.”

  Vi wanted to tell him that Taavin had been honest with her about the mutual hatred between the Faithful and the morphi—that she knew it was rooted in fundamental ideological differences in each culture’s magic. But the tear had come into view, and the conversation ended.

  “What in the…” Sarphos murmured, slowly approaching the felled tree Vi had crossed through earlier.

  “Don’t get too close.” She grabbed his forearm, holding him back. “It’s not safe.”

  “It doesn’t look safe.” His nose scrunched. “And smells of death. You went through that?”

  “Yes. If you watch closely, you can see the Twilight Kingdom, now and then, in the shifting air.”

  Sarphos stared intently at the air between the trees, but Vi’s focus was on the leaning tree itself. It was almost entirely blackened, large splits exposing liquefied innards that glowed with red lightning. The tree looked as though it had been rotting for weeks since she had last been here—not mere hours. She bet that had they arrived a day later, it would’ve collapsed entirely.

  “So it’s true,” he whispered. Sarphos must’ve seen the kingdom while Vi was distracted by the progression of the rot. “You can catch glimpses.”

  “Believe me now?”

  “I still don’t believe you could’ve made it through that and survived.”

  “It wasn’t an…ideal experience.” Vi’s hand went to her watch. Without it and whatever power it held, she likely would’ve died.

  “Well, then, I think our business has concluded.” Sarphos adjusted the satchel on his shoulder.

  “You won’t tell anyone about Taavin?” Vi dared ask. It was too much trust to put in a single man, especially when Sarphos had every reason to betray them. She needed to move Taavin as quickly as possible. But Taavin couldn’t be moved yet… Her mind began to whirl around possible solutions.

  “So long as he doesn’t harm my people.”

  “Give me your word.”

  “You have it,” Sarphos said with all the sincerity in the world.

  Vi wanted to believe him.

  She wanted to take him at his word. She wanted to go back to the days when promises meant something. But they didn’t any longer. A vow wasn’t good enough, not when he had so much to gain by outing them. If she were in his shoes, Vi couldn’t be certain she’d honor it.

  That meant she had to ensure his silence another way; she had to keep him in her sights.

  “Sarphos, wait,” she called after him, just as he had taken a few steps.

  “What now?”

  “You’re going to report this tear to your king, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” he responded cautiously.

  “Take me with you?” Vi did her best to phrase it as a question and not a desperate plea or command. The only way she could get him to agree was to endear herself to him, truly convince him it was in his best interest, or both.

  “Why do you think I would take someone in league with the Voice to King Noct himself?”

  “Because I have more knowledge than you on these tears—their cause and how we may be able to stop them.” Vi held out her hands. “Because I am unarmed and no threat in the Twilight Kingdom.”

  “You had that strange fire magic before.”

  “Firebearing. It’s called Firebearing.” For a brief second, Sarphos looked almost intrigued by the notion. “It’s a discipline of magic on the Dark Isle and is in no way like the Faithful’s Lightspinning.”

  “It didn’t feel like Lightspinning…” He stroked his chin. “You really are from there?”

  “I really am.”

  “But there is nothing on the Dark Isle. It is a barren wasteland.”

  Vi chuckled. “I thought much the same of Meru.” She braved a smile, hoping it came off as casual. Hoping he believed they were finding an easy rapport and she wasn’t just looking for a way to keep him in her sights. “Take me to your king, let me tell him of my lands myself.”

  Sarphos twisted the strap of his bag. Vi wondered if his thoughts mirrored her own—twisting and turning over the various options before him. As she waited, Vi tried to keep her expression light, even though she was already working two mental steps ahead.

  Taavin had mentioned a shift like the one around the Twilight Kingdom protecting the Isle of Frost… If she continued building this relationship, perhaps she c
ould ultimately convince Sarphos—or King Noct—to help rescue her father.

  “Oh, all right, come on then.” Sarphos grabbed her hand. “But don’t blame me if Arwin kills you on the spot.”

  Vi didn’t have a chance to inquire further as pulsing magic enveloped them both. She barely had time to hold her breath before the darkness of the between pressed around her.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Took you long enough,” the woman at the archway at the entrance to the Twilight Kindgom droned. “Arwin has already come looking for you.”

  Vi knew she didn’t imagine Sarphos suddenly going pale.

  “What did you tell her?” he squeaked out.

  “That you were out with your lady friend.”

  “Why did you say that?” Sarphos groaned, starting down the street.

  “Why are you keeping it a secret?” Ruie called after them. “Is it because she dresses poorly?”

  “I’d like to see how lovely she looks after sailing across continents,” Vi mumbled, picking at the fabric of her shirt. They were the same clothes Erion had given her, back when she was pretending to be Yullia.

  Should she use another name now? Vi looked up to the castle ahead of them, towering over all the people crowding the street. No… she’d already told Sarphos that she was the crown princess. And meeting another royal while being honest about who she was may just serve her well.

  “When we get to the castle, let me do the talking at first.” Sarphos interrupted her thoughts. “Arwin is going to be in rare form, I’m sure. She doesn’t take kindly to delays and will be even more irritated when she finds out I’ve brought a human before the king.”

  “Who is this Arwin to you? An old flame?”

  Sarphos tilted his head back, letting out a bark of laughter. It was rich and warm-sounding, comfortable. Good, she wanted him to be comfortable around her. The more she could endear herself to him, the better.

  “No, no. Arwin is… Well, she was to be my sister by marriage, once. But that was a lifetime ago.” Sarphos kept his eyes forward, focused on the castle, oblivious to Vi studying him.

  “So there’s history there.” Vi didn’t press the matter. He clearly didn’t want to go into the details.