Vortex Chronicles: The Complete Series

by Kova, Elise

  Sighing softly, Vi turned away, feeling her brow relax. He wasn’t wrong. There was still so much about her predicament that she didn’t understand. But she knew that doing nothing wasn’t the solution either.

  “Let me tell you what it is I plan to do next,” she said finally. “You have the memories of all my failures; perhaps you can help poke holes in my orchestrations to give me the best chance for success.”

  She heard him breathe a sigh of relief.

  “That, I can do.”

  * * *

  The last time Vi had laid eyes on the square at the drawbridge of the castle of Norin, it had been filled with the winners and losers of a ten-year war. Soldiers had held their heads in triumph and defeat. Now, it was filled with common folk and nobles alike. But the only soldiers were those in Imperial plate, bearing signets of the Solaris Empire.

  Her layers of skirts swayed with her hips and flowed around her heeled shoes. Over her shoulders was a shrug; the ruddy feathers that adorned it reminded her of Fallor. In a dark way, it felt as though she was wearing the skins of an evil she’d vanquished.

  Vi had managed a wash and found a mirror that enabled her to put a strategic plait in her hair. She’d woven the braids in a fashion her mother would wear for Imperial events. Most everyone else wore their hair down and loose, some swept theirs up with a simple braid wrapped through it. But none had quite the same intricate knots as Vi, and her style drew more than one look.

  “Hear ye, hear ye.” A man stepped up onto a stage positioned at the foot of the drawbridge. Knights fanned out before him, swords drawn with their points driven into the earth. “It is my honor to bestow on you your first Imperial announcement.”

  “Honor,” a man snorted from somewhere behind Vi.

  “In six months’ time, your Emperor, ordained by the Mother herself to unite this continent, will be wed to the one much loved by the sun and much loved by your land.” The ruffles at the crier’s neck bounced up and down as he spoke. Each heaving breath carried his voice further than the last. “The Emperor Tiberus Solaris announces his betrothal to Lady Fiera Ci’Dan!”

  Horns blasted and soldiers threw confetti into the sky over a confused crowd. Whispers collected to form a sound loud enough to be heard over the bellowing instruments. Frightened, concerned, and angry eyes sought each other out in turn. The commoners were less likely to keep their opinions to themselves.

  “She would marry him?”

  “The unbendable Fiera?”

  “She was the leader of the Knights. Now she’s nothing but an Imperial whore,” the male voice from earlier muttered darkly.

  At that, Vi glanced over her shoulders. But she couldn’t see who behind her might have spoken. Was it the angry-looking commoner? One of the nobles behind him? Someone further back?

  Vi looked forward once more, trying to push the remark out of her mind. She’d heard mention that Fiera’s engagement to the Emperor Solaris had not been taken well. And why would it have been? Having seen the fall of Mhashan with her own eyes, she understood why the people were upset. Vi turned her gaze to the ground, wondering how much blood from the Emperor’s killings had flowed right where she stood.

  Still, the horns continued their celebratory trill, as though the people were as excited as the shimmering bits of paper happily floating through the air.

  “Now, now!” Everything quieted as the crier raised his hands once more. “Members of the court, we invite you to join the Emperor in his first soiree in this land, to celebrate this most glorious union. Those who are not of noble birth, fear not, for you shall also enjoy minstrels and food.”

  “We do not want minstrels. We want our king—King Ophain!” a man shouted. “We do not want Tiberus’s blood-soaked charity. We want our free—”

  The declaration was cut short with a crunch and gurgle that echoed louder in her ears than the horns had. Vi couldn’t see who had been shouting, but she knew he would never shout again.

  Silence fell heavy atop simmering resentment.

  “Now, please, enter the castle, Western court. Enjoy and be merry, all!” the crier finished, as though the outburst had never existed.

  The mass split into two groups—nobles marching forward along the bridge, slowly filing into two lines, and commoners who were held back by the guards surrounding the crier’s stage. Vi rolled her shoulders and adjusted the long, feathered coat that covered them.

  With every step, she retreated further into her mask; by the time she arrived at the Imperial soldiers holding scrolls of names, she was no longer the woman who had been wasting away in a prison or a cat burglar stealing garments. She was Vi Solaris, crown princess to an Empire lost.

  “Name,” the soldier demanded.

  “Marla Le’Dan.” Vi worked to add a thick Western accent over the name.

  “Marla… Le’Dan.” The soldier checked his scrolls and then leaned over, murmuring something to the woman behind him. He turned back to Vi. “I don’t seem to have your name.”

  “Excuse me? I am of the Le’Dan family. How can you not have my name? Do you know who my family even is, Southerner?”

  “I don’t have your name on the lis—”

  “Then find another list,” Vi insisted. “Or perhaps this should be proof enough.” She held out her right hand, the ruby catching not only the soldier’s eye but the eyes of the other Western nobles around her.

  The soldier looked back to the woman he’d deferred to before. She stepped forward and inspected Vi’s ring. “Let her though.”

  “Thank you.” Vi gave a huff she hoped conveyed that the transgression against her noble person would not be forgotten.

  She fell into step with the stream of people passing through the glistening royal stables that flanked the wide entry, toward the grand doors of the castle. Vi glanced over her shoulder; the Imperial soldiers were already focused on the next people. No one around her seemed to be paying her any attention.

  Vi made her way to the edge of the crowd and stepped back into the shadow of one of the stables before slipping behind a low wall unseen.

  Hurriedly, she shrugged off her coat and pulled pins from her braids, allowing them to fall into a much simpler style. She ripped at the flowing skirt she wore over a clinging dress, casting it aside with the coat and incinerating it with a burst of magic. She yanked the ring from her finger, tucking it into a hidden pocket of her dress as she slipped back into the crowd without anyone so much as giving her a glance.

  Smoothing over her dress once more, sufficiently satisfied with her altered appearance, Vi stepped into the great hall of the Western castle.

  Her feet came to a stop as Vi let out a soft gasp. It was more magnificent than she could’ve imagined. The architect’s sketches and blueprints Elecia had sent hadn’t done the castle justice. Columns supported wooden rafters that soared high enough for gigantic iron chandeliers to hang unimpeded. At the far end of the room was the throne area—a place Vi could barely see over the heads of those gathered.

  Stained glass along the upper walls picked up the glow of a thousand tiny flames, burning magically in the chandeliers and otherwise empty glass bulbs throughout the room. Vi took a step, placing her hand lightly on a column. This was her family’s home. She ached at the thought and part of her—the part that shared blood with the Ci’Dan family—wanted to weep for all they’d lost despite all she herself had gained.

  “There you are,” a male voice said from behind her. “I knew you said you were thinking of getting a feel for the attitude of the crowds, princess, but I didn’t think this was what you had in mind.”

  Vi startled, realizing he was speaking to her. Even from behind, he’d mistaken her for Fiera.

  The man was a Westerner, through and through. He had short-cropped black hair and muscular shoulders that framed a barrel chest. His clothing was twice as fine as the average person’s. But what made his identity as plain as the nose on his face was the thick chain around his neck—cast in gold and weighted by a diam
ond that could make even a Solaris blush.

  Vi was face to face with Richard Ci’Dan.

  “You’ll never believe what’s happened. I came down early myself because I was told my cousin Marla was here. Foolish Imperials, they know nothing, or they’d know Marla is—”

  “I think you have the wrong person,” Vi said softly.

  Richard stopped himself mid-sentence and stared at her. He blinked several times, tilting his head, before taking a step forward to get a better look. He searched her face with a gaze as tender as it was knowing before that same expression became distant and inquisitive.

  “You’re her, aren’t you?” he said finally.

  “And just who do you think I am?”

  “The traveler the princess foretold.”

  Chapter Six

  “She foretold… me?” Vi leveraged all her royal training to keep her surprise in check.

  “She did. She said a traveler would come who wore her face.”

  Vi wore a knowing smile. Fiera’s actions were gaining clarity. “Yes, I have come from very far to meet her.”

  “Sorry to say you don’t have any hope of a private meeting. A public audience, perhaps tonight. But no one has been able to get to her, not even one of her oldest and dearest friends.” He sighed heavily and looked toward the empty thrones at the far end of the room. “She’s been kept sequestered under lock and key with that wretched man.”

  Vi took a small step toward Richard, looking toward the thrones as well. She said nothing, and the silence greased his tongue.

  “I shudder to think of what he’s done to her—what he’s threatened her with—to bring about this union.”

  “Perhaps he loves her?” Vi suggested.

  “Loves her?” Richard balked. “The man loves one thing: war. He’s long been married to death itself. He doesn’t love, he conquers.”

  “Have you met him?” Vi had always been told that, above all else, Tiberus had been over the sun for Fiera Ci’Dan. That while he had stolen her land, she had stolen his heart.

  “No. Just how much socializing have you been able to do recently?” Richard’s eyebrows arched. “Forgive my tone, and that I’ve yet to learn your name, Lady…”

  “Yullia.”

  “Lady Yullia.” Richard took her hand and brought it to his lips. “An honor to meet you.”

  “And you as well.”

  “You have an uncommon name. Might I ask where—”

  Two doors at the far end of the hall opened and interrupted Richard before he could finish. A hush fell over those gathered. They turned collectively to the group of three standing in the doorway.

  “Ophain, Lord of the West!” a crier announced as the man in front stepped forward along a white runner. “Sisters to the Lord of the West, Lady Tina and Lady Lilo.” Two women stepped out, walking side by side.

  “Lord of the West,” Richard murmured at Vi’s side. “He should be king.”

  Vi remained silent, watching the procession. Ophain was heartbreakingly similar in features to her father, save the hooked nose and slightly longer hair that he wore tied at the nape of his neck. Tina, the older sister, was spindly and elegant. Lilo was stouter and, despite all that had transpired, wore a serene smile on her face.

  Perhaps she was smiling because she’d somehow avoided engagement to the man who had conquered their homeland. Both women making their way down the long runner to the dais were older than Fiera, and both were currently un-betrothed. They would’ve been the more expected choices.

  “My friends, my noble kin,” Ophain began as he reached the top of the dais. There were only two chairs behind him, Vi noticed, and he sat in neither. “I realize this celebration has come under… unconventional circumstances.”

  “That’s a way to put it,” Richard mumbled. He wasn’t the only one.

  “However, it is just that—a celebration,” Ophain emphasized. “My darling sister, the youngest and I think we can all agree the strongest among us—” Lilo gave a nod from Ophain’s left “—has been chosen as our future Empress. She is a woman whose hands were only for the sword and now, they will help hold up the Empire.”

  Any other proclamation, under almost any other circumstances, would have been met with cheers. But those gathered were silent. Slowly, a few people clapped—mostly the Southerners in attendance—and then a few more. A depressing showing for a crowd that dressed for a party but felt as though they were attending a funeral.

  “Thus, it is my honor to present the Emperor Tiberus Solaris and future Empress Fiera Ci’Dan!” Ophain motioned to the back of the room, where the doors were still open wide.

  Two figures emerged from the darkness and into the light of the hall. The Emperor wore the sun crown—a golden circlet with fiery sunbeams stretching up from its base. His crisp, white, double-breasted jacket and tailored trousers were a clear attempt to distance himself from the more flowing styles of the South.

  Fiera walked in stark contrast beside him. Her crown was a simple silver band across her brow. She wore a tightly tailored, crimson dress with a split all the way up to her hip. Underneath were black leggings and boots that appeared to have the dust of training fields still on them. Silver pauldrons adorned her shoulders and a sword Vi would recognize anywhere was strapped to her hip.

  The only thing connecting them were their hands. Tiberus escorted her with his elbow out, palm parallel to the floor. Fiera’s hand rested atop.

  They didn’t look like they were walking into a party in their honor. They looked as though they were walking to war. Yet the effect seemed to work on the crowd, for as they passed men and women alike dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

  Vi was no exception, though she was one of the last to kneel, waiting long enough that Fiera’s attention came to her and her alone. Vi held the woman’s eyes until her knee met the floor. Fiera turned forward quickly, keeping her reaction to Vi’s presence concealed.

  “My newest and well-loved subjects,” the Emperor started when they reached the dais. Fiera’s siblings had stepped back to stand behind the thrones. “It is my honor to stand before you today. Not just as your ruler, but as your future kin.”

  Vi glanced over to Richard. His jaw was clenched tight, veins bulging in his neck. The man looked like he wanted to scream more and more with each passing second.

  “It is my most sincere hope that you all will join us in celebration, now and over the next six months, as we prepare to join in union in the Cathedral of the Mother.”

  The room remained silent. The Emperor stared out at the crowd for another long moment before he stepped back and assumed his seat in the gilded throne tufted in blue velvet. Fiera, however, remained.

  She swung her gaze across the room, a hand resting on the hilt of her crystal sword.

  “Lords and Ladies of Mhashan,” she began in Mhashanese. The Emperor didn’t have much of a reaction, which told Vi that Tiberus was confident in what she was going to say. “I was your princess. More than that—I was your sworn protector. My father appointed me the head of the Knights of Jadar so that I may keep you all safe.

  “I still hold that duty dear to my heart. I know you might not always understand how, but I fight for you. I will continue to fight for you until my dying breath. However, fate guides us to unexpected places. I no longer defend you on the field, but from a throne—a throne where I know I will find happiness. I am happy. Join me in that, my kin. Eternal flame.”

  Fiera finished with the common Western colloquialism—fiarum evantes. The term was both greeting and farewell, meant to inspire good will.

  “Guide us through the night.” Kotun un nox, Vi said aloud, when no one else would.

  Others picked up the sentiment, echoing her. The words rippled through the crowd. One by one, they uttered the expression as a form of solidarity with their once princess and now future empress.

  Fiera sat on her throne. As soon as she was settled, minstrels playing harps and lutes picked up a merry tune set to the fast
beat of a drum. It was jarring to the very clearly uncomfortable atmosphere. But someone had planned for this, and servants passed wine around on trays. The nobles eagerly grabbed for the goblets, searching for anything to quench the awkward feeling that hung in the air.

  Richard took one more long look at Fiera and Tiberus before turning, starting eagerly toward a servant passing drinks. Vi took a hasty step, falling into place at his side.

  “I need a drink,” he muttered. “Something stronger than the stuff they’re serving here… but this is a start.” He lifted a goblet off a tray but Vi refused it when he offered. She fussed with the skirt of her gown instead.

  “Have faith, Richard Le’Dan. The South isn’t all bad,” Vi encouraged lightly with a pat on his chest. Lucky for her, he too wore a military-style jacket with pockets over both pectorals—one of which now held the ring Vi had lifted from the Le’Dan store. Taavin had cautioned her not to keep it beyond tonight. This was a much better solution than casting it in some dark corner. “You might even learn to like it someday.”

  Before he could retort, she walked away, her mission with him finished. One by one, men and women were lining up to pay respects to the Emperor. Vi stepped into the line and waited her turn.

  “Emperor Tiberus Solaris,” she said in Southern Common when it was her turn. “Lady Fiera Ci’Dan.” Vi switched deftly to Mhashanese to address the princess. “It is my honor to come before you both and wish you well.” Vi dropped to a knee.

  “And what family do you hail from?” Tiberus asked. All of the other nobles had made it a point to very clearly state who they were when they swore their allegiance. Someone in the shadows was no doubt keeping a tally of which families weren’t here.

  “I have no family, your grace.” Some murmurs. Vi could see movement from the corners of her eyes and wondered if the guards were already coming for her now that she’d identified herself as the person who did not belong among all the members of the Western court. “But I do come bearing an engagement gift.”