by Kova, Elise
“With what?”
“Come, and let me tell you on the way.”
They strolled through the castle, winding down the now-familiar pathways. She ran her fingertips along the walls, feeling the grooves of the stone underneath her nails. There had been another Vi before her who had walked these halls. Had she made the same motions? Were her fingerprints running along the tracks of the fingerprints of ninety-two other Vis throughout time?
“A few years ago, Fiera told me that when she met Raylynn she would look into the girl’s future,” Zira started.
“Like a curiosity shop?”
“Yes, exactly. I made the mistake of telling Raylynn and now she won’t stop asking about it. I think that’s part of how she convinced my mother to drag her here.” Zira looked to Vi with pleading eyes. “I know I shouldn’t ask this. But I don’t want to trouble Fiera, not now, not with all that’s going on. And I know that five is a little young to scry into a child’s future, but—”
“I’ll do it,” Vi interrupted, touching the woman’s elbow. “I’ll pretend to be Fiera and try to peer into the future.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done to help me.” She smiled, hoping the expression hid her uncertainty. Unlike the future-seers at curiosity shops, Vi had much less control over what she did and did not see. But she also had Lightspinning at her disposal, and could make a convincing show of it.
“Thank you.” Zira squeezed her hand once as she led them through two side rooms and into a mirrored reception area with a few low chairs.
There, an older woman sat on her feet and held up her palms, as a young child punched and kicked them.
“Faster, Raylynn,” the elderly woman demanded sternly. “You’re spending too much time on both feet. Bounce!”
The girl tried to do as her grandmother bid, focus knotting her brow. Her golden hair, a striking contrast against the deep tan of her Western skin, swished as she moved.
“I don’t think she’s meant to be a brawler. I think she’ll hear the song of the sword like her mother,” Zira said.
“Mommy!” the girl squealed, sprinting over to Zira. Zira crouched down, taking her daughter into her arms. “Can I come live with you in the castle now? I want to defend the princess, too.”
“You will defend whatever and whoever you wish.” Zira tapped Raylynn’s nose. “When you are old enough to hear the calling.”
“But I can fight.” Raylynn wriggled from her mother’s grasp, bouncing from foot to foot. She threw jabs into the air identical to the ones she’d been practicing with her grandmother.
“You can fight better than half the men I train, my little dagger.” Zira laughed, ruffling her hair. The woman’s tone was entirely different around her daughter. She still had the sharp edge about her that Vi would always associate with Zira, but it was tempered with a tenderness unique to a mother’s love.
“Thank you for gracing us this day, your highness.” Zira’s mother dipped into a low bow, her forehead touching the floor. “You honor us.”
“Princess, I will be your new guard!” Raylynn proclaimed, thrusting a hand into the air. “I am here to report.”
Vi let out a laugh and crouched down as well. “You will be a mighty guard indeed, someday. Though you should listen to your mother and give yourself time to see what cause calls you.”
Raylynn lowered her arm, thinking about this. “If you say so, your highness.”
“Now you’ve met my daughter, Raylynn.” Zira scooped up the girl, pulling her into her lap. “And this is my mother, Sophie.”
“It’s an honor to meet you both.” Vi gracefully eased herself onto one of the legless and armless chairs across from the family. Raylynn’s golden hair was a stark contrast to the rest of them. Her father’s identity was a mystery Vi would not be asking about, given that the girl was conceived after the South invaded. “Zira has told me so much about you.”
“She told me you would look into my future!”
“Raylynn, please,” Sophie half scolded, half sighed.
“Yes, I will. Would you like me to do that now?” Vi glanced over at Zira. The woman bobbed her head yes.
“Yes please.” Raylynn bounced from her mother’s lap. “Gran and I brought things to burn. She said this wouldn’t be like a normal curiosity shop, so we’d better be prepared.”
“Your grandmother is very wise. Be sure you continue to listen to her.”
“You hear that? Even the princess says you should listen to Grandma Sophie,” Zira said.
“Yeah, yeah.” Raylynn rolled her eyes at her mother. “I know that.” She hastily returned to Vi with a collection of items retrieved from the satchel at the older woman’s side. “Here, I brought these.”
Vi scanned what a five-year-old girl had determined was precious enough to burn for a sacred purpose. She held a clump of cotton, two dried leaves, and a bottle containing a shot of amber colored liquid.
“Are they good enough?”
“They’re wonderful,” Vi assured. “I’m going to hold out my hands and make a fire; you drop them in one by one, all right?” Raylynn nodded, an adorable intensity overtaking her. “Here we go.”
Vi rested her elbows on her knees, sitting cross legged. She leaned forward, made a bowl out of her hands, and allowed her spark to fill the empty space. Fire ignited, eagerly filling her cupped palms. It burned brightly, shining off Raylynn’s delighted expression.
One by one, the girl dropped each item into the flames, almost reverently. After uncorking the bottle and pouring the liquid over the fire, her hands clutched the dagger that was attached to the small belt on her hips. Three items to burn, one to hold. Vi took a breath, readying an illusion with narro, but as her eyes caught the flame, the genuine sensation of future sight overtook her.
The world blotted out, blurring into white, and Vi found herself standing a mere stone’s throw from the castle her body was in.
Fiera and Tiberus stood together at the center of a crowd, hands joined with a red ribbon wrapped loosely around them. Zira stepped toward them, drawing the crystal weapon she wore on her hip. A Crone of the sun spoke, though Vi couldn’t hear the words. Even if she could, her focus remained on the glimmering Sword of Jadar.
Zira lowered the sword with purpose, resting the flat of the blade over top their joined hands. Flames sparked, harmlessly singeing the ribbon to ash. Tiberus beamed and Fiera returned the smile. Zira lifted the sword once more and as she held it aloft—
A blade gouged through the soft flesh of her neck. Blood ran down the ceremonial armor Zira wore in a river that raced to pool at her feet. The phantom sounds of gurgling, of Zira’s knees hitting the ground hard as the blade was withdrawn, filled Vi’s deaf ears.
She watched with disturbing detachment as a man she didn’t recognize grabbed for the weapon. Chaos collapsed in on the couple. The last thing Vi saw was Tiberus pulling Fiera close to him, panic in his eyes.
Vi blinked, suddenly seeing the flame in her open palms again. Straightening, she let go of the spark and looked out the windows along one wall to avert the worry in her eyes.
“What did you see?” Raylynn asked eagerly.
“Give the princess a moment, her eyes haven’t even stopped glowing.” Zira hushed her daughter sternly.
“I saw…” Vi started softly, but lost all train of thought. That certainly hadn’t been how Vi expected this to go. Her future sight wasn’t a trained skill like it was for the purveyors of curiosities. Her future sight only happened at places where fate changed. Would the Cathedral of the Sun become an Apex at Fiera’s wedding?
Her eyes drifted from Zira to Raylynn.
She’d heard stories of Raylynn Westwind, the only female member of Prince Baldair’s illustrious Golden Guard. She’d joined shortly before the young prince’s untimely death. The stories Vi had heard were striking—the sort that stuck with a girl first learning to hold a sword.
“Your life, Raylynn,”
Vi finally began with confidence, “will follow your mother’s in service. But where your mother follows a crown of silver, the one you serve will be a crown of gold, like the hair of your head.”
And the hair of Prince Baldair’s head. Perhaps Raylynn could prevent Baldair from meeting his young death if she were destined to be his guard. If she grew up to become even half the swordswoman her mother was, it could be enough to change his fate. Memories of her father talking with such longing about his brother, a broken relationship he could never repair, flooded and propelled her.
“You will live by the sword, and through it you will fulfill many duties. These duties will be heavy, but you will carry yourself gracefully till your final hours. And through it all, you will find your home.” Finishing with something ambiguous seemed far wiser than getting too specific. As much as Vi wanted to meddle with the outcomes of history to spare her family, Taavin’s cautions stuck.
“You honor us with your sight of the Mother’s plans.” Sophie dipped once more into a low bow. Zira stared in slack-jawed awe.
“Do you hear that, mommy?” Raylynn stole her mother’s attention. “I will carry a heavy sword, just like you!”
“That you will, my little dagger. But the sword I’m carrying today isn’t heavy. In fact, it’s very special. I only have it now for the princess’s wedding. Would you like to see it?” Raylynn nodded and Vi was forced to watch as the crystal sword was unsheathed once more, casually exposed to even more eyes. “This sword is—”
“The Sword of Jadar,” Sophie gasped.
“Is it so special?” Raylynn asked, running her little fingers along the flat of the blade. The girl was calm and at ease, even in the presence of a legendary weapon.
“Very special. Can’t you hear its song?” Zira tilted her head. “Remember, we must—”
“Listen to the blades, and dance and sing with them.” Raylynn finished. She tore her eyes away from the sword. “Did you give my mother this sword?”
“It belongs to my family,” Vi answered doggedly.
“Can you give me a sword when I am in service to the golden crown?”
“Perhaps.”
“I want a sword like mama’s.”
“A sword like this cannot be made. It came from the Mother herself, very long ago.” Zira sheathed the weapon.
“But her visions come from the Mother, and she’s so powerful!” Raylynn looked between them all, as if one of them could explain why this fact wasn’t obvious. “If you can’t make another sword, can you give my dagger power just like it?”
“Stop bothering the princess and mind your manners, Ray,” Sophie said sternly, cutting off the conversation. She stopped the girl from unsheathing the dagger.
“Now, the princess and I have to go get ready for her wedding. It’ll be very soon.” Zira gave Raylynn one final squeeze and stood. “I’ll meet you both tonight for dinner. Thank you again,” Zira murmured as her mother and daughter exited. “Do you think I’m a bad mother for this deceit?”
“No.” It was Vi’s turn to give Zira’s hand a squeeze. “I think you just did a very, very good thing.”
If Vi’s suspicions were right, she had just witnessed her first real opportunity to change fate.
Chapter Fifteen
Vi gazed up at the domed ceiling. A statue of the Mother held out a giant basin of fire that lit the entire cathedral—the second-most impressive structure in all of Norin. It was yet another piece of architecture that reminded her of the Archives in Risen.
Beneath the great statue were smaller ones of the Mother in various poses and expressions. Those statues melted into the relief sculptures of the Father that rounded the room. He looked up at the visages of the Mother above in yearning.
Vi inspected the tender face of the deity who would be Raspian. The sculptor knew nothing of the god’s actual likeness, just like the Dark Isle knew nothing of his real relationship with the Mother. All Vi saw in his longing eyes was a drive to once more subdue the goddess that ruled above him.
“So much history they don’t even know they’re a part of.” A familiar voice startled Vi from her thoughts. Deneya had seemingly materialized at her side. “Every time I come here it reminds me of home—in a strange, not-quite-right sort of way.”
“It’s a bit like a distorted mirror, isn’t it?” Vi murmured.
“That’s one way to put it.” Deneya glanced at her from the corners of her eyes. “Now, why did you summon me?”
“I need your help today.”
“Oh?”
Some Crones emerged from a nearby door, beginning to light sconces throughout the room. Vi walked in the opposite direction, keeping her voice so low it was barely audible over the echo of their footsteps in the cavernous space. “I need you to protect Zira.”
“Zira has always struck me as a woman capable of protecting herself.”
“The Knights are going to make a play for the sword. I had a vision.”
Deneya stopped walking. “When?”
“About two weeks ago.”
“You didn’t think to mention this when we spoke with Taavin last?” Deneya arched her eyebrows. The three of them had been meeting weekly.
“Slipped my mind.”
Deneya rolled her eyes. “Whatever you have to tell yourself. That’s between you and him.”
“Exactly,” Vi said firmly. Her stomach was still in knots because she had yet to tell Taavin of her vision, her slight maneuvering—encouragement—of Raylynn, or her bold plan. But this was her moment to spare Zira from an untimely death and prevent the sword from falling into the hands of the Knights of Jadar. Asking for forgiveness would be easy when she succeeded. She hoped. “At the point in the ceremony when Zira lifts the sword overhead, she’ll be struck from behind. I need you to move through the crowd and counter the attack.”
“So just focus on Zira. Not Fiera or the sword?”
“I’ll worry about the sword and Fiera. Just save Zira.”
“Simple enough.” A smirk curled Deneya’s lips. “I always wanted to run circles around the Dark Isle dwellers with Lightspinning. But it’s against my code while I’m here.”
“But you’ll help me do this?”
“Of course. You’re the Champion—exceptions can be made for you.” And Deneya looked all too eager to make those exceptions. “Things were boring before you came.”
“Hopefully, if I do my job right… they’ll be boring again.” Vi’s attention was drawn to the main doors of the cathedral—the only entrance and exit onto the streets. As if sensing their discussion, Zira appeared. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Deneya fell into step, whispering hastily, “I have something else I need to tell you, when it’s all over.”
“What?”
“No time now.” She lifted her eyes, looking to Zira. “Good day, captain.”
“Good day, councilor. Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” Deneya smiled. “Just checking in with Yullia here about the final count of the guards so I can ensure they are paid correctly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to change before the ceremony.” Deneya bowed and departed.
“Are you ready for today?” Zira asked.
“I think so. You?”
“No,” Zira answered bluntly. “I’ve fought countless men in dozens of battles. But this has my hands trembling.”
“You’ll be fine.” Vi patted the woman on her shoulder.
“Do you mind if I go over the ceremony once more with you? I don’t want to forget.” A nervous Zira was more endearing than Vi could’ve imagined.
“Not at all.”
“Thank you.” Zira promptly turned to a back door.
Vi’s eyes were drawn to the sword on her hip as Zira moved. Vi’s head bobbed along as Zira went through the ceremony a final time. But her attention was on the sword.
She would protect it, and the woman, at all costs.
She wouldn’t accept any other fate.
* * *
Two
hours later, Fiera arrived by covered carriage. Soldiers stretched sheer panels between poles that obscured her as she entered the cathedral. The gathered crowds cheered and threw flowers, praising their soon-to-be Empress, as if their happiness for the union had been there all along.
Vi watched from an upper floor, scanning the guards that lined Fiera’s walk. How many of them were Knights of Jadar loyalists? How many were ready to stab the woman in the back if the opportunity presented itself?
When Fiera entered the cathedral, Vi spiraled down the narrow iron staircase that took her from the top of the spire she’d perched in down into a side wing, and out into the cathedral proper. The main chamber was beginning to fill with nobles and dignitaries and Vi stepped lightly, unnoticed by most.
She scanned the crowd carefully, trying to discern who might be surreptitiously positioning themselves, waiting for the time to strike. Vi made a note of every man and woman who chose to stand behind where Zira would be in less than an hour. By the time she waded through the sea of people, Vi had committed their faces to memory.
Vi slipped into a back hall that connected to a waiting room where Fiera sat in a chair by the window—looking far more composed than Vi had expected.
“Are there a lot of people yet?” Fiera asked, perking up when Vi entered.
“It’s filling quickly.” Zira was nowhere to be seen. Having the sword out of sight put Vi on edge. She glanced at the two handmaids who hovered in the corner of the room. “Out with you both.”
They glanced at each other, but left when Fiera commanded a gentle, “Please excuse us a moment.” The princess turned back to Vi, dark eyebrows arched in question.
Vi stared down at the woman, wondering countless things at once. Was the cut of her dress—tight below the bust, but flowing loose around her abdomen—happenstance, or an intentional concealment? Had she looked into the future at all during these past weeks? Did she have any sense of what was about to transpire?
Not knowing the answers to those and several hundred other questions, Vi slowly drew her sword. Acting on instinct, she rested the point of the weapon in a crack of the floor and knelt before Fiera.