by Kova, Elise
“A gift?” Fiera asked, eyes locked with Vi’s and filled with awareness. The question stopped short the guards who had just about surrounded Vi. The room was silent once more.
“Fiera Ci’Dan, you will bear a son.” Vi pitched her voice as ominously and with as much gravity as possible. “He will have your flames, and sit on the throne of his father.”
A small smile worked its way onto Fiera’s lips as a guard approached, whispering in the Emperor’s ear. Tiberus looked at Vi with renewed focus.
Vi opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted.
“Kind words, indeed,” the Emperor said lightly. “A shame you felt the need to lie to say them. You are under arrest for masquerading as a member of the house Le’Dan. Guards, please take her to the dungeons. We shall sort out what to do with her later.”
Vi stood, offering her elbows to the guards who were already reaching for them. She didn’t struggle or try to get away. Instead, she walked like a princess, all the way out of the party and into the depths of Norin’s castle.
They locked her in a cell without fanfare and promptly left. Vi waited for their footsteps to disappear down the hall. Fiera knew she was here.
If she waited, the princess would eventually find a way to get to her. But Richard’s claim that Fiera was being kept under tight watch lingered—highlighting the advice Taavin had given her.
The party will be depressing for Fiera. She’ll retreat to her rose garden.
“Durroe sallvas tempre. Juth calt.” Vi did away with the lock on the cell in the same manner as she had broken into the storefronts.
She went down the long hall that lined this wing of cells, magic gathered under her fingers. The one other prisoner was lying on his cot, back to her, and didn’t stir as she passed—her footsteps completely silenced by her magic. One end of the hall stretched deeper into the dungeons; the other, where she’d entered from, was hazy with light. Vi glanced around the corner to find the guard on duty slumped in his chair, much as he had been when she’d entered.
Vi closed her eyes, debating what chant to use. There was one bit of Lightspinning she had yet to try. Should she risk a new piece of chanting, or try to make herself invisible while moving through a room? Invisibility in motion was nearly impossible; the choice practically made itself.
“Loft not,” Vi breathed, her own eyes feeling heavy and fluttering closed for a long moment. Not was a subset of loft—to sleep—and in the same family as dorh—to immobilize. The word was warm on her tongue and the glyph that haloed over the guard’s head settled on his shoulders like sunset.
He let out a large snore and Vi crept though the room, still keeping the sounds of her footsteps silent. As soon as she was down the hall and out of earshot from the now slumbering guard, Vi let go of both glyphs and immediately whispered a few more words to step into the skin of one of the guards who had escorted her to the prison. With the man’s face, she strolled easily through the halls and stairwells.
Vi ran her hand along the banisters as she ascended through the quiet passageways. The castle felt unnaturally empty. Servants weren’t buzzing around and guards had seemingly limited patrols. It felt like a great beast, now slumbering, waiting until it would rise once more to be the bastion of the West.
Elecia had sent no shortage of maps of Norin and architects’ drawings of the castle to Vi while she was in Soricium. She had deemed it “important for Vi to learn her heritage.” Vi’s chest tightened at the thought that she’d never have the opportunity to properly thank her cousin for how she’d prepared her.
Vi went up and up. She stepped through doorways and underneath carefully embellished archways. High above the royal family’s quarters was the library. It was hexagonal in shape and extended five stories up with nothing but bookcases lining each wall. Had the original builders of the castle of Norin known of the Archives of Yargen? Were they aware of the distant influence that still held sway over their aesthetics?
Making her way up and around the library with a side stair, Vi paused at a doorway wedged between two bookcases. It was unassuming and unlocked.
The thick scent of roses assaulted her senses as Vi stepped out into the rooftop conservatory. Western breezes filtered through open windows in the high glass panels that capped the garden. The quiet sound of trickling water added a layer of serenity that had Vi’s tense shoulders relaxing. She began to walk the gardens, looking at the various flora and fauna—mostly Western roses, Fiera’s favorite.
“You’re here.”
Vi turned, meeting Fiera’s gaze as the woman stood in the doorway. Fiera blinked with surprise, but it passed quickly and was replaced with a knowing smile.
“I am.”
“I was wondering when you’d come.”
Chapter Seven
“Forgive me for breaking free of your prison.” Vi’s attention shifted, turning to the sword still strapped to Fiera’s hip. Her whole body ached at the sight of it and Vi barely held herself back from giving in to a moment of weakness and just ripping it from Fiera’s body.
“Part of me suspects I should be pleased that you have.”
“I mean you no harm.”
“So you’ve told me, and so you’ve illustrated.” Fiera took a step forward and lifted her hand. “Shall we stroll?”
For a quarter of one lap of the lush garden, they didn’t say anything. Vi kept glancing at the woman at her side while Fiera kept her gaze forward and relaxed. Still, her hand remained on the sword hilt.
“I sense fate in you,” Fiera said finally, “in a way I have never sensed in any other.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”
Fiera paused only long enough to glance at her from the corners of her eyes. “You’re a poor liar.”
“Don’t mistake half-truths for a lie.” Vi chuckled. “I don’t understand what you mean when you say you ‘sense fate.’”
“Yargen has chosen me to see along her lines,” Fiera started, leaving Vi to wonder if her deflection had been so easily dispatched. “Sometimes, I feel compelled to look along those lines—more so than other times. Sometimes, I don’t need to peer along the lines at all to know that someone or something has great importance in those designs.”
“Or perhaps you are sensing places and moments where fate has been changed,” Vi suggested, narrowly avoiding the term Apex of Fate.
“A good way to put it.” Fiera gave a small nod. “You… you are the embodiment of that feeling. When I see you I feel I know you—like somehow I’ve always known you.”
Fiera came to a stop and Vi with her. They faced each other, nearly identical in height and build. If anything, Fiera was slightly more curvaceous than Vi. But otherwise, they could be mistaken for identical twins at a glance.
“Perhaps it is because I look at you and see my face.”
“An oddity, indeed.” That was something she had no idea how she could explain away—not even with half-truths.
“Yet, this feeling runs much deeper,” Fiera continued. “When I have tried to scry into the flames for you, I see nothing. The sight has been absent since we met, all other sensations dulled, save for you.”
“But you told Richard Le’Dan you foresaw our meeting?”
Fiera laughed softly and shook her head at the mention of Richard. She wore a tender smile on her lips, one tinged with sadness.
“Richard wouldn’t understand if I tried to explain it to him. He is not like you and me. He doesn’t understand these feelings,” Fiera said tenderly. “I told him that because I knew you would seek me out, as you sought me out the first time. My hope was that the more people I told of you, the greater the likelihood of you being led to me.”
“How?”
“I had a feeling.” Fiera shrugged and crossed to a bench. She patted it, inviting Vi to sit next to her. Vi obliged. “May I know your name now, traveler?”
“Yullia.”
“Yullia, a beautiful and unique name.” A knowing smile spread ac
ross her lips. “And tell me, Yullia, what is it you seek?”
The sword you carry. Vi knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The crystal sword, known to the West as the Sword of Jadar, was a sacred relic. If she was going to steal it, she needed a bit more of a plan than grab and flee.
Move slowly, Vi reminded herself in Taavin’s words. She had time, decades of time. She didn’t have to take the sword in one night.
“I wish to be at your side—guiding and protecting as I am able,” Vi said finally, after weighing her various options. “I can serve you in many ways, and perhaps we will find one that is the best for your needs. I am confident with a sword, and with magic. I am wise to the ways of the world. And I can see along the Mother’s lines as well.”
Fiera hummed softly. “I should tell you no. I wouldn’t want to get a reputation for accepting people easily into my employ. Especially those who break our laws.”
“Will you tell me no?” Vi asked, genuinely unsure of the answer.
“I will tell you that I am a woman of faith—and I believe in the Mother’s will that guides us all. You feel of fate, and speak like one who has the sight.” Fiera stood. “So kneel, traveler Yullia.”
Vi pushed off the bench and did as she was instructed.
“Do you swear fealty and loyalty to me, and to the Solaris crown?”
She didn’t even have to fake the broad grin at the question. “Yes.”
“Then consider yourself a member of my guard, formerly the Knights of Jadar…” A smirk pulled up the corners of Fiera’s lips. It was somewhat coquettish and the first playful thing Vi had seen about the otherwise perfectly composed royal. “I’m still working on a new name.”
“No names needed.” Vi rose to her feet. “I am here for you, your highness. Not for a title.”
“And I have been truly blessed in that.” Fiera stood and began walking once more, but her shoulders had more sway to them, her steps far less rigid. Just like that, a barrier between them had been lowered, if not entirely removed. “You are not the first the Mother has sent to me in this way.”
“Who was—” Before Vi could finish, three people appeared in the doorway.
“There she is.” Tiberus let out a sigh of relief, crossing over to Fiera and scooping up her hands. He didn’t even so much as glance Vi’s way. Vi wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t even realize there were other people around him. It was a far cry from the Emperor Vi saw in the great hall. “You worried me—all of us—wandering off without Zira at the very least. It’s too dangerous still for you to do that. The association with me will have people out to harm you.”
“No one in Mhashan would harm me. And I had to come and meet with my new guard.” Fiera motioned to Vi and the Emperor slowly turned his head to look at her.
“You’re the criminal.”
“I’d prefer ‘party crasher’.” Vi shrugged.
The Emperor’s expression grew more concerned at her nonchalance, but lightened instantly when Fiera let out a burst of laughter. He finally chuckled as well.
“You are an odd one, aren’t you?” Tiberus shook his head with a slight smile, all the while his eyes still on Fiera. “I suppose if my beloved trusts you, so shall I.”
Most of the stories Vi had heard of her grandfather were about him at the end of his decades of conquest. They were tales of an older man, hardened by war. The man before Vi now was barely in his thirties and he looked not a day past twenty-five.
“Yullia?” a familiar voice interrupted the conversation.
Vi grinned. “Hello, Zira.”
“I thought it was you!” Zira hastily walked and clasped Vi’s shoulder. “Forget how she made it out of the jail cell… how did you make it out of containment? You do have an interesting set of skills, don’t you?”
“You could say that.”
“A set of skills we will use for our Empire,” Fiera insisted to Tiberus. “I have made her my guard and would seek not to have her punished for impersonating a noble tonight, or sneaking out of the soldiers’ confinement. She was merely following the will of the Mother, and my will, to stand at my side.”
“Then it shall be done.” Tiberus gave a nod to Vi and, like that, she was absolved of all crimes.
“Thank you, my love,” Fiera said lightly, almost sweetly. It was yet another stark contrast to the stiff, formal woman Vi had seen in the main hall.
“You are to be my Empress, the sword protecting my back, and will rule at my side. I wish for you to know always that your voice is heard.” Tiberus cupped Fiera’s cheek and Vi gave a glance to Zira, who was barely refraining from rolling her eyes.
“Zira, will you see that Yullia is settled in a room?” Fiera asked, turning away from Tiberus’s affections. “There are more than enough open. You can place her wherever you think is appropriate.”
“Yes, your highness.”
“Zerian, please escort us back into the party. They’ll wonder if we’re gone for too long,” Tiberus said.
“And leaving nobles to wonder only leads them to gossip.” Fiera sighed. “You’re right, we should be along.” Tiberus offered Fiera his elbow and she took it, starting away. But not before Fiera paused once more to say, “I look forward to working with you, Yullia.”
Vi stared at the familiar dark eyes. Fiera’s spell-like quality of speech made Vi feel as if she were the only person in the world. Perhaps it was this quality that made others eager to bend over backward for the princess.
“And you as well, princess.” Vi gave a small bow of her head. Zira and Zerian exchanged a nod and the man escorted the two royals back into the library. Vi glanced over at Zira, whose whole body now seemed racked with tension. “Is everything all right?”
“My eyes tell me I’m seeing the men who are responsible for King Rocham’s death and the fall of Mhashan, while my mind reminds me they are no longer my enemies.” Zira shrugged, shoved her hands in her pockets, and began strolling forward. “It takes some getting used to.”
“I can imagine,” Vi said thoughtfully and fell into step at Zira’s side. “Does she love him?” As though Fiera’s love would make the circumstances easier to bear for Zira.
“I can’t tell,” Zira answered candidly. Vi was grateful they’d already had the opportunity to build a rapport; talking came easily, and there was no need to dance around topics when they’d spent days imprisoned together. Then again, Zira didn’t seem like the type to dance in any context that didn’t involve holding a blade. “I know she loves her people. She loves this land. And if loving him saves those things, she will love him to the sun and back.”
Her grandfather and grandmother’s love had been the stuff of legend, and Vi had believed it. Though now, she wondered… A begrudging political arrangement wouldn’t have done nearly as much to keep the West loyal and begin the slow process of endearing the South to their future Empress and Emperor. It made sense the story would be spun in brighter light. Vi’s chest tightened and her breathing grew short, but not from the stairs she and Zira climbed.
Despite having been taught all her life that marriage was a political transaction for someone born to her status, Vi had looked to Fiera and Tiberus as a model for how a political union could straddle both love and politics. The thought suddenly seemed so naive now.
“Here, these quarters belonged to one of Fiera’s other generals who’s… Well, let’s not linger on the details.”
Vi walked into the room. It reminded her of a smaller version of the hotel in the Crossroads: a carefully carved sliding screen separated the bed from a sitting area, and two doors at her left likely led to a closet and bathing room.
The memory briefly misted her eyes. That hotel had been the last place she’d seen her brother. Those few weeks they’d spent together on the road were all she’d ever have now, and they weren’t nearly enough.
“Make yourself as comfortable as possible,” Zira continued, oblivious. “Do you have personal effects anywhere in the city I should collect?”
“No, I travel light.”
“As a former mercenary of the Nameless Company, I respect that.” Zira smiled. “I’m sure I can find more than enough spare clothes for you before morning. We’ll need you dressed properly as one of her guards because tomorrow, you’ll face something far scarier than an Imperial army.”
“What?”
Zira turned from the doorway, a wry grin on her face. “The Royal Council.”
Chapter Eight
Zira was good to her word and brought Vi two trunks of various clothing to choose from. As usual, the slim-cut styles of the West were nearly impossible to fit into if they weren’t perfectly tailored to the wearer. But Vi found something that didn’t look comically large or small.
She braided her hair in large parts, knotting the ropes together up and away from her face at the back of her head. There were already enough similarities between her and Fiera; Vi didn’t want to encourage them further. Keeping her hair up rather than wearing it loose as Fiera did would be a good point of differentiation.
The council met just outside the royal quarters, which made it right down the hall and around the corner from Vi’s room.
When she entered the chamber, she was greeted by only four familiar faces—Fiera, Zira, Ophain, and Zerian. Tiberus was surprisingly absent and everyone else was a wary stranger. Vi would tread lightly while she determined if she needed to earn their favor.
“We should discuss the matter of the soldiers first,” Lord Twintle, councilor for maritime matters, pressed as soon as Fiera opened the meeting to concerns at large. “They are the men and women of the West, men and women who put their lives on the line for their kingdom.”
“Their kingdom is no more,” Zerian interjected. “In the eyes of the Empire they are war crimi—”
“They are equal citizens with a chance of serving the Empire,” Fiera said, cutting him off quickly with a look before he could say something that would likely raise tempers. “Lord Twintle, I know your son is in one of the containment shelters.”