by Kova, Elise
“Southwest. It’ll let me out of a cliff side.”
“Just south of the ridge where all the nobles live?”
Zira paused, staring at Vi for a long moment. “Yes… How did you know?”
“I’m good with maps, and the terrain of the city made it an easy guess.” She wondered if this path was anywhere close to the one out of the Le’Dan estate.
Vi handed out the sword to Zira. With it, she felt like she was giving up a part of herself. She had never felt more vulnerable than when she watched Zira’s hands closing around the weapon. Doubt fluttered through her mind; the memory of Jayme’s betrayal rode on gossamer wings. Instinct told Vi not to trust Zira. But here Vi was, trusting despite every betrayal she had endured.
She was here in this world to bring about the end of cycles. And she’d start with the cycle of people she cared for betraying her.
“I’m putting all my faith in you with this.” Vi raised her eyes to Zira’s. “Don’t let me down,” she added softly.
“I wouldn’t. Letting you down would be letting Fiera down. If nothing else, trust that I will always do everything in my power to see the wishes of our Empress done. And she wishes the sword to be safe.”
It was nearly painful to uncurl her fingers from around the leathers. But Vi did it. “Fiarum evantes,” she whispered.
“Kotun un nox,” Zira replied, and then disappeared into the darkness.
Vi watched her go, grabbing the watch at her collarbone. The hairs on the back of her neck were on end. Her ears were filled with whispers and the sounds of distant drumming.
This was a moment fate shifted. Vi could feel it.
But had she changed the course of time for the better?
Chapter Twenty-Two
There was the small matter of procuring a corpse before dawn.
Vi made her way quickly back through the labyrinth of passageways. She trusted her instincts to lead her back and tried not to question too much. Questioning would make her pause, second-guess, and turn around or change course. Doing so would only waste time and get her lost.
Still, she breathed a sigh of relief when she emerged onto the top level of cells.
“Durroe sallvas tempre,” Vi whispered to mask her footsteps. She treaded lightly past the elderly guard and through the castle.
Out of the castle and across the drawbridge, Vi glanced at the horizon. The sky was still completely dark. She had a few hours before dawn, and before any suspicions could be raised.
Vi made her way through the city to the Cathedral of the Mother. Detached from the main building and off to the side was the city’s morgue, where all bodies were held ahead of Rites of Sunset. Bracing herself for the smell, Vi walked into the halls of death.
She was pleasantly surprised that it did not reek of decay. Instead, there was a chalky, herbaceous smell in the air. A Crone was stationed at a wide desk set in the center of the mostly empty, rectangular room. Behind her were rows of tables on which bodies were laid out. Over half of the tables were empty, but several had human-shaped figures underneath dark red cloths.
“Fiarum evantes,” the Crone murmured sleepily, bringing her milky eyes up to Vi.
“Kotun un nox,” Vi replied dutifully. “Crone, I fear my friend might have fallen today… Do you have any bodies here that have yet to be identified?”
The Crone lifted a gnarled finger, running it down the page of the open ledger before her. Vi was impressed her eyes could still see well enough to read at all, especially in the low light of the room. She tapped a few notes.
“Four are unidentified. Was it a man or a woman?”
“A woman.”
“Three, then.” The Crone pushed herself upward and Vi could hear the bones in her joints popping.
“Crone, please—” Vi rushed around the table, resting a hand lightly on the elderly woman’s back and holding out the other for support should she need it. “Could you tell me which they are? No need to trouble yourself.”
“If you don’t mind, sweet child?” The Crone gave her a smile. “That would be most kind.”
“I don’t mind at all. Which tables are they?”
“These.” The woman tapped the outlines of three tables in her ledger that corresponded with the back three on the right-hand side. The word “unknown” was scribbled by each of them.
“I’ll return promptly,” Vi said as the woman settled back into her chair.
The night was going well, almost too well. But given how it had started with the Knights of Jadar, Vi could use a few lucky breaks. In the back corner there were the three bodies. Vi peeled back the coverings of the first two—the third was far too short to be Zira.
Of the two remaining bodies, Vi decided on the woman on the right. Their builds were similar, and whatever misfortune had befallen her was gruesome enough to leave cuts over the majority of her face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly to the woman. “But this sacrifice is for all of us.”
Vi went back to a clerical table and grabbed a knife. As she cut the woman’s long hair to vaguely resemble Zira’s, Vi wondered who this person had been. Was she someone important? Or was she someone the world had long since overlooked?
Her heart ached. At the very least, this woman would have dozens mourning for her—even if those mourners were misinformed.
“Yargen bless you,” Vi murmured as she covered the body in the sheet once more and burned away the chunks of hair in a flash of fire.
She went back to the Crone and informed her that the body was that of Zira Westwind—that the Empress herself would come to mourn for the loss of her friend and chief guard at sunset. The Crone took Vi at her word and scribbled in the ledger dutifully, even adding that the cause of death was an attack by the Knights of Jadar during guard duty. With that settled, Vi returned to the castle.
Fiera wouldn’t be up for a few more hours yet, and Vi didn’t feel the need to wake her. Nothing would change if Fiera found out her machinations a few hours later. And Vi could use the time to plan her next moves.
Safely back in her room, Vi settled her bed into place before sitting on it heavily. She rubbed her eyes with both her palms. It felt like forever since she’d last had a good night’s rest. But it would wait a bit longer.
“Narro hath hoolo.”
Taavin appeared before her, and Vi dragged her eyes up from the toe of his boots to the top of his head, eventually landing her attention on his eyes. He stared down at her; whatever he saw softened his expression.
“You were supposed to be sleeping.”
“I know.” Vi shook her head and closed her eyes. She couldn’t handle the guilt of all she’d been hiding from him. Summoning him had been a bad idea.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
“A lot,” Vi whispered.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Vi looked up at him and let out a bitter laugh. “I thought I had to tell you everything.”
“You should… But I hope you do it because you want to—because you want to save the world. And because you want to confide in me. I can do little else for you right now beyond lending an ear.”
“You do more than you know and I don’t deserve it.” Vi took his hand in hers and hung her head. She’d trudged through a long dark night; she felt like the sun would never rise again.
“You do.”
“I don’t, because I’ve lied to you. I’ve deceived you.”
“I know.”
Of course he did. Two words had never been more heartbreaking. “Because I always lie to you at this point?”
“No, Vi, because I know you.” Taavin knelt before her. “Because I can see it in your eyes.”
“Taavin, I didn’t—I don’t want to hurt you.” She squeezed his hand. “Somehow I had to balance that with doing what I felt was right.”
“I’m fine, Vi. I’ve endured worse.” His grim nature about the fact put a stone in her throat. “I’m more worried about
you.”
“For the future of this world?”
“For your own sanity,” he said gently, covering her hand with his. “I love you just as you are and I want you to be open with me about everything.”
“My recklessness included?”
“Your damnable recklessness that might just save our world included.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile that was far too endearing for their discussion.
Vi swallowed the lump in her throat and took a slow breath. She wanted to take him into her arms. She wanted him to kiss her until she knew or wanted nothing else.
But she couldn’t. Not until he knew everything she had done and still wanted to kiss her after.
“You were right, I wanted to save Fiera. I still do. I want to save her, Zira, everyone else I can, and this world. When I saw the vision of my brother… I knew I had to be bolder. If I was to make this the last time for all of us, I had to do something I’d never done before. And I knew you would say no. So I didn’t ask…” Vi proceeded to tell him of the past few days. She told him of the long, dull nights watching Twintle’s warehouse. She told him of the Knights seeing her, of her fleeing, and giving Zira the sword.
When she finished, Taavin merely continued to stare at her, holding onto her hands tighter than she had clutched the Sword of Jadar before giving it to Zira. But Vi couldn’t tell if it was in anger, worry, compassion, or some likely mix of all three.
“Tell me I haven’t done the wrong thing,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“You have never needed my assurance before.” He didn’t say the words in such a way that would lead her to believe he meant to cause pain. Yet the lack of immediate support cut her deeply all the same.
“But I want it now.” Vi took a quivering breath. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, perhaps it was all the events that had transpired adding up to a tally that was too high. Or perhaps it was his eyes that were making her come undone. “You’re correct—I’ll continue to do what I feel is right. I will take council, but ultimately make my own decisions. I will not feel regret or guilt for making the best decision I could at any given moment, given all the information available to me but—”
Her throat was thick and gummy, and she choked on her next words. “But…” Vi continued, or she might not have continued at all. “I want someone to say that what I’m doing is all right. Because in this moment I am so tired and unsure. In this moment, Taavin, I do not feel strong and I am laying myself bare before you asking—begging—for you to lend me some strength before morning comes and I have to face the world alone once more.”
His thumbs smoothed over the backs of her hands in a motion Vi couldn’t be certain was entirely conscious. Taavin listened intently and was silent when she finished. Vi braced herself for his reaction and readied herself to send him away before he could turn his back on her.
“Vi Solaris,” he murmured softly. Nothing had ever sounded more delightful than her name gliding across his tongue. A name that she hadn’t heard in so long, it made her ache. “You have done nothing wrong. The burden on you is one that no one can understand, not even I. And you handle it with all the grace of your forefathers. You do your parents proud.”
She hung her head as her face twisted in pain. Somehow, he’d known exactly what she’d needed to hear. Every last holdout of her strength vanished and she leaned forward.
Her face buried into his shoulder; his arms wrapped around her. Vi dug her fingers into him, grabbing at the tunic he wore, trying to cross through the barrier that coated his skin like oil that she couldn’t wash away.
“I wish you were here,” she whispered.
“I am here.”
“I wish you were real,” Vi corrected, pulling away.
Taavin hooked her chin, his thumb pulling lightly on her lower lip. Through lowered lashes he murmured, “Let me show you how real I am.”
He pulled at her and she leaned forward. With a soft exhale, his lips brushed hers. She trembled at the barely-there touch. Slowly, he returned his mouth to hers in a toe-curling, tender kiss.
Vi’s hand balled into a fist. She wanted to yank him closer. She wanted him to kiss her until her head spun and she was breathless. Yet she couldn’t move. She was putty under his shifting hands.
One hand caressed her cheek. His fingertips ran along the edge of her ear—as though he was as fascinated with their differences as she was. His other hand ran up her side, boldly tracing the outline of her breast, but not lingering. It joined the other and he held both sides of her face, kissing her more firmly now.
She leaned back. It was an invitation, one he accepted. Taavin crawled onto the bed and on top of her.
“Say my name again,” Vi whispered as their lips parted briefly.
“Vi Solaris,” he obliged, husky and deep.
“Tell me you love me,” she demanded.
“I love you. I have only ever loved you. I will only ever love you.”
Vi pulled him down onto her. She caressed his back and savored what warmth and weight she could feel. Taavin kissed the soft flesh of her neck, a feather-light trail that ran up behind her ear and back down to her collarbone.
“I can’t feel you like I once did,” she confessed dejectedly. “Now the sword is gone, and I fear I never will again.”
He pulled away, propping himself to hover over her. Vi trailed her fingers down his face and chest. She didn’t know how much was forced imagination spiced by longing, and how much was truly tactile sensation.
“It’s not the same,” he admitted, and the admission hurt more than she expected.
“But your words sound as they always have.” Vi shifted away, inviting him instead to lie next to her. The space between them made her ache instantly, but even when he curled around her, that distance didn’t truly vanish.
She needed him in a way she’d never needed anyone.
In a way she didn’t think she’d ever be able to have again. Why hadn’t they made the most of their brief moments together in Risen?
“Tell me,” she murmured, her eyes sinking closed as she rested her head on his chest. “Have we ever made love?”
“What?” His whole body went tense.
“Before, perhaps?” She didn’t have to say, before I killed you. “In one of the other worlds?” There could’ve been another Vi who was bolder than her on Meru. Or a Vi who found his current form to be enough to touch, and kiss, and explore in ways she couldn’t bring herself to no matter how much her body burned with want for him. The feeling of him not really being with her was too great a barrier to cross. “Did we embrace as true lovers?”
Vi tilted her head up when he didn’t immediately respond. Taavin looked at her with those same lusty eyes. He was seeing something that told her the answer before his lips did.
“Yes.”
“Tell me of it?” she breathed. “Tell me how I felt. Tell me how we moved. How you touched me. I want to hear it all.” If she couldn’t experience it, she would live vicariously through another version of herself.
“Are you certain?” He shifted uncomfortably.
“If you’re willing.”
“Of course I am. Those are the sweetest memories I have,” he murmured, pressing a firm kiss against her mouth to punctuate the sentiment. “The first time was on Meru, in Risen…”
Taavin spoke unhurriedly, and Vi hung on his every sensual word. Each turn of phrase delighted her. Phantom memories ignited within her as though her body remembered what her mind could not. She felt herself burning from the inside out with a fire she’d never known before.
A fire that felt like it could light the whole world.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Vi didn’t get any sleep that night. Come morning, her clothes were rumpled and her skin was flushed from the fire he’d set in her. For the first time, she felt as though she’d lived a hundred lives with him through his endless stories.
And it wasn’t enough.
It wouldn’t be enough until she c
ould taste him like those other Vis had.
Vi stared at the window. She hadn’t shuttered it the night before, but the paper screens were slid closed. The morning’s first light was drawing a slow line across the floor and when it hit the bed, Vi knew her exhausting night would officially transition into an exhausting day.
“You never slept,” Taavin mumbled from behind her, kissing her neck tenderly. His fingers traced lazy circles around her stomach, pushing up her shirt farther with every pass. It was a game he seemed to be playing—how far he could undress her before he put her clothes back into place.
It was a line they hadn’t dared cross all night. If they hadn’t crossed it last night… they never would. Not as long as he remained a specter.
“I didn’t.”
“You should’ve.”
“If I slept, you would’ve disappeared.”
He sighed softly. Vi twisted in his arms and Taavin placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, mumbling, “You have to rest.”
“I will tonight, I promise.” Her body wouldn’t give her a choice. “I wanted to see one morning with you.”
“We don’t get such luxuries.” He smiled sadly.
“I will find a way for us to have them.”
“All right, my princess.” Taavin let out a chuckle that was part laughter, part scoff, and all disbelief.
“You don’t think I can?”
He hummed, a relaxed smirk draped on his face. She wanted to kiss it off. How dare he look so frustratingly handsome first thing in the morning.
“I will pull you into this world if for no other reason than to force you to have morning breath and bags under your eyes and bed head with me,” Vi threatened.
“I would give anything in the world for that. Anything to be a normal man, and for you to be a normal woman. But that is not our destiny.”
“I’m writing destiny now.” She wanted the statement to sound strong and full of conviction. But her voice was tiny and wavering. The more she thought about her task, the more impossible it seemed. Especially now with the sword out of reach. What had she been thinking, sending it away? “And I will find a way to bring you back into this world.”