Chosen Champion

by Elise Kova

  Erion gave her a look that made Vi wonder if she was about to regret this decision. He turned a small knob on the clawed hand that was holding his drink. A spring was released, and the fingers shot outward. Hand freed, he worked to open the bottle and poured a fresh glass, topping off his as well. Erion re-locked the fingers of his metal hand around his glass before delivering hers.

  “Thank you,” Vi said softly. Her eyes drifted to his prosthesis, but Vi tried to divert them. She didn’t think her fascination would be interpreted as flattering given the horrific circumstances that surrounded him losing the limb to the Mad King Victor.

  “You’re welcome.” Erion finally sat. “So, what is the cause for all this cloak and dagger? You have created quite a stir.”

  “I am on a secret mission,” Vi began. “One of the utmost importance, on behalf of the entire Empire.”

  “And that is?”

  “I’m going to find my father.”

  “Aldrik Solaris is—”

  “He’s alive.” Vi cut him off at the pass. “I have future sight and I have seen him.”

  Erion paused for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, an intent stare on his face. Now she had his attention. Vi gambled on his Western roots putting great stock into future sight, and it looked like her gamble was going to pay off.

  “I have had many visions of my father, many.” Did two count as “many”? “And I have every reason to believe he is alive on the Crescent Continent.” So she was stretching things. Vi wouldn’t make the same mistake she had with Romulin or Jayme and show hesitation.

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t know how she could make herself any clearer. “He is alive. He is on the Crescent Continent. And he is waiting for me.”

  Erion leaned back in his seat and took another long sip of his liquor, looking at her from over top the glass. It reminded her that she had yet to touch her own drink, and Vi finally brought it to her mouth. As suspected, it was something strong that singed the hairs on the inside of her nose. The vapors tangled in her throat, causing her to cough.

  “It’s an acquired taste,” he said with a small smile.

  “I—” another round of coughing claimed her. “I like the taste. Just not the burning.”

  “You’ll become acquainted with how to drink it,” he assured her. “I presume you told your mother of these visions?”

  “I…”

  “You have not.” Vi couldn’t decide if Erion’s expression was proud, amused, or merely curious. “Why?”

  “I did not want to risk involving my mother,” Vi began delicately. “The Senate is already skeptical of the crown.”

  “And you thought running away would help?”

  “Actually, I think it will. We both know it’s my brother they want to see sit the throne.” A pause, waiting for him to challenge. Nothing. “They have no love for me—raised in a foreign land, Firebearer, only passable in the dance of politics.” Vi wasn’t attempting to downplay herself, merely speak truth. Erion seemed to appreciate the fact, as he didn’t object. “My brother seated on the throne would be best for the Empire, I admit that fully. The West is loyal enough and, despite physical appearances, my brother has as much of my father’s blood as I do. There’s no reason it must be me on the throne.

  “But…” Vi finally turned her attention back to him. “I am the only one who can find my father.”

  “Why do you think you can find him when all other search parties have failed?”

  “Other search parties didn’t have the benefit of future sight. I do.” Vi closed her eyes, taking a breath. One of her hands wrapped around the watch that connected her to Taavin, drawing strength from the thought of him. “Because… while I’m certain those search parties did their best, they were looking for their Emperor. I am looking for my father. And I believe that motivation will be the key to my success.”

  Erion paused; the silence was heavy and uncomfortable. Despite herself, Vi continued to speak over it.

  “Furthermore, I—” She fought to regain an iron grip on her emotions but they slipped free. “—I do not think I would be an effective ruler if I was forced to sit on the throne and watch my people die, doing nothing, when my father, their rightful ruler, is alive and may have the cure for the affliction ravaging our lands.

  “The Empire will do well, thrive even, under the shrewd politics of my brother; the crown is secure. I will find our true sovereign and reunite my family. I will aide in finding a cure for the disease plaguing our citizens.”

  “And if you die?” He said it as if she hadn’t thought about the possibility. As if she hadn’t already considered the likelihood of that coming to pass.

  “Then I die. Which is another reason I could not involve my mother. I could not have her knowing of that heartbreak while also enduring the heartbreak of knowing Father is out there as well, unable to return home. In that case, my true fate will remain a mystery to all but you and Jayme.”

  Erion leaned back in his chair. Finally, he took a long sip of his drink. It was as if she had passed whatever test he had been administering.

  “And Jayme—what does she intend?”

  “She’s one of the few who knows of my visions. Whatever she intends is up to her.”

  “She should prove trustworthy, if she’s anything like her father.” Vi bit back a retort. “Where did you learn such craftiness? It reminds me of Jax.” He almost seemed impressed. “It couldn’t have been easy, sneaking away from your guards, enlisting one to help you—though I’m not surprised, given her parentage—and surviving the Waste.”

  “I have to find my father.” It was all she could say because, in truth, she didn’t know where the abilities had come from. She’d never even considered failure. Doing so felt like a betrayal of her family and the Empire. “Will you help me or not?”

  Erion thrummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. When they finally stopped, the conversation shifted in a way that sounded like permission.

  “I will need a week to execute this. Organizing ships for these sorts of ventures is not easy since the Empire closed trade with the Crescent Continent. And I will need to devise the proper incentive for my business partners to ferry you beyond the barrier islands.”

  “Thank you.” Vi took a cautious sip of her drink. “What do you seek in return for all this kindness?”

  A thin smile formed itself on his dusky lips. “It’s my honor to assist the future Empress. Surely, you don’t think I’d ask for anything more than your gratitude for doing my duty to the crown?”

  The word gratitude rang heavy. “Of course not, Lord Le’Dan.”

  It was not the first time her family had been indebted to his. The Ci’Dans may have won the Western wars for political supremacy with their military might, but they’d always been beholden to the wealth and influence of the Le’Dans. They were shrewd, cunning, and had a knack for politics that meant they were rarely on the losing side.

  Vi was certain Erion was already two steps ahead in figuring out several ways that, no matter what happened to her, this act of kindness would benefit him.

  “Then, to your venture.” Erion raised a glass. “Should I not have a chance to toast your health and success—as I do not think we should risk speaking so openly on this again—let me do so now.”

  “To my venture.” Vi raised her glass as well and then drained the rest of its burning contents.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  They had gone to dinner shortly after cementing their agreement.

  Erion’s wife—Rhalla—was a generous woman, both in manner and in hospitality. For a woman who hadn’t been “expecting to entertain,” she produced an enviable spread of Western fare. Vi had worked her way through the different courses. There were too many to finish all of them, but Vi still cleaned plate after plate. Now her stomach felt like she was carrying a stone in it.

  She wasn’t sure if she could have gone right to bed after a meal like that i
f she tried.

  Now, she stood at the balcony of her room, which she’d admired from the first moment she’d entered. The scenery was a good distraction from the pain of her engorged stomach, and there was a calming safety to the darkness. Between the soft, distant crash of the waves, the wind in her hair, and the nearest barrier island a small shadow on the starry horizon, Vi would dare say she felt peaceful if she weren’t waiting on pins for Jayme to return.

  Erion hadn’t lied when he’d said he wanted to talk with Jayme following dinner. He was keeping her half the night.

  Vi sank to her elbows on the railing, holding out her hand and murmuring. The glyph was small and tight, flawlessly crafted. She could feel Taavin at her side without even looking.

  “Do you think it wise to summon me out in the open like this?” He mirrored her posture, forearms on the wide railing.

  “It’s quiet and I haven’t seen another soul for hours.”

  He didn’t argue or put up a fight. The man’s shoulder brushed against hers before settling flush against her. Even when he said nothing and did nothing, he still found a way to speak volumes to her rapidly fluttering heart.

  “It’s peaceful,” he finally murmured. “You should enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Vi gave a small nod in agreement. The statement seemed harmless enough, but as the silence stretched, it drew her attention to his face. Taavin’s eyes were narrowed slightly, looking out to sea with an intensity she wasn’t expecting.

  “What is it? What have you seen?” Vi finally took her gaze from the sea, and it landed on him. She rested her hip against the railing.

  “It’s hard to say.” Taavin sighed, straightening his spine. His eyes scanned her face, and hers did the same to his. “My dreams and visions, they’re increasing in frequency. The nurse says that my seizures and comatose states are lasting longer and—”

  “Seizures? Comatose states?” Vi grabbed his hand as she grappled with the words. “What’s wrong?”

  Taavin gave her a small, bitter smile. “I told you that I have always been afflicted with visions of you—torturous visions.” He rose a hand, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen from her braids behind her ear. The sea wind was eager to rip it from its spot once more.

  “You said dreams,” she whispered, worry filling her.

  “Yes, sometimes they come in sleep.” He paused, caressing her cheek. How could he hold so much longing, pain, adoration, and suffering in one expression? Why did she have to be the one to provoke such complexity? “Other times, they come as daydreams. My body seizes and shakes. I fall into a deep, involuntary sleep.”

  “When I summon you…”

  “With narro hath?” Taavin shook his head. “When I feel the magic, I lay down willingly and allow it to overtake me. I could break the communication spell with juth if I so chose.”

  Vi breathed a small sigh of relief. It didn’t make everything better—he was still suffering. But at least she wasn’t knowingly causing it.

  “Taavin…” Vi took a step forward, resting her hands delicately on his hips. Suddenly, her magical friend, tutor—lover?—felt far more frail than he ever had before. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He leaned down, a small smile on his lips. Lightly, he kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Vi shifted her arms around his waist, and they held each other for several long breaths.

  “At first, you were only pain… but now you have brought a light to my world that I will protect with as much ferocity as the Flame of Yargen itself.” Taavin shifted, looking out to sea once more. Vi felt more than saw it as he re-situated his cheek and chin on her head. “And I fear what lies ahead that I cannot protect you from.”

  His grip tightened. Vi twisted, looking up at his shining emerald eyes. She could lose herself for hours in those stunning orbs.

  “What have you seen?” Vi whispered.

  “A storm, death in the water, frost, and you cast into dark waves.”

  “But you’ve said your dreams are merely of the past.” Yet even as she spoke, Vi suppressed a shudder at those ominous words. “Could it be my grandmother instead?”

  “I don’t know.” His fingers hooked under her chin. “What I do know is that I’ve had precious little to live for, Vi,” he whispered. “I’ve been struggling to survive for years without knowing why, other than a frustrating sense of self-preservation. I never knew why I didn’t just give in. But now, I think I do. I believe, somehow, I knew I would find you, and you would be the key to everything.”

  “What are you saying?” Vi whispered. His words clung to familiar corners—his thoughts echoing ones she hadn’t dared linger on.

  “You are not the only one who will be on a journey, Vi. I wish to see the world too. And I too will find a way out of my prison.”

  “Taavin, if you run away, what—” Vi never got to finish her question.

  She was cut off by the sound of the door to the main room opening. Vi’s head jerked in the direction of the noise to see Jayme step into the dark room. She looked back to where Taavin had just been standing, and found her hands clutching nothing but thin air.

  Vi quickly dropped her arms hastily and turned to face Jayme. Moonlight streamed over her shoulders and through the propped-open double doors that led to the balcony. Yet she still had to squint to make out the woman hovering by the door in the darkness.

  Her emotions rose, tension on tension, over worry for Taavin and what she needed to say next to Jayme.

  Vi cleared her throat. “How did it go?”

  “Good.” Jayme abandoned her position with an ease that gave Vi hope. She strolled over, hands in her pockets. “I enjoyed hearing more about my father from someone who knew him well before the Mad King.”

  “Your father really is Daniel Taffl,” Vi whispered softly.

  “I told you I didn’t lie.” Jayme folded her arms over her chest.

  Vi looked at her toes, then up to the woman, down again, and back once more. Somewhere in her bouncing gaze she found the resolve she was looking for. “Jayme, I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  “I’m sorry for doubting you, for the harsh things I said… And for not thinking through… well, knowing this makes a lot about you come into focus.”

  “Does it?” Jayme sighed. There was resignation in her walk, but instead of retreating to her room, she moved to the balcony. “Tell me, what of my father do you know already?”

  “Mother mentioned him,” Vi started. “She told me Daniel Taffl was a good soldier, a better swordsman, and one of the best men she’d ever known… But the Mad King had taken his toll on him. She said he was with her in her journey across the Empire, but they split ways in the East when she went West to collect the army. Then, when the Mad King marched on the East and put it to the torch, she lost all contact with him.”

  “She wasn’t completely honest with you, then.”

  “We all have our secrets, don’t we?” Vi muttered. “I know many don’t like talking about the time of the Mad King.”

  Jayme gave a solemn nod. Her expression wasn’t just pained, it was angry. “The scars from that man are still on this Empire. You see it in Erion and his hand. And you see it in my father.”

  “What really happened?” Vi took a step forward, resting her hands timidly on the railing, feeling as though she no longer deserved to share the space with Jayme.

  “Your mother spoke true up to a point.” Jayme gave a small, bitter laugh and shook her head. “She did find my father, free of the Mad King. But the man had already done his work. He took Erion’s hand, but my father’s mind.

  “She returned him to his parents in Leoul and just left him there, trusting them to know what to do with him in that state.”

  “Leoul was put to the torch when the Mad King’s armies marched from the South, reclaiming that territory. My father may not be of sound mind, but he had an intimate knowledge of the Mad King and his movements. That was what kept him and his family alive.
/>   “Eventually, he returned to Leoul, met my mother, and had me.”

  “Why did he never reach out to anyone—Erion, my mother, Jax? Why call yourself Graystone?”

  “My father did much better, I’m told, after having a wife and child… and having a farm to work again. But he always struggled talking about the old times.

  “So my mother banned talk of it in the house—banned it altogether. Father didn’t seem to mind; it kept him level not to think about the war or have people calling after Daniel Taffl. I didn’t even learn who my father truly was until I was fourteen and exploring my own options to provide for my family.”

  “You said my mother didn’t tell the whole truth… Your father finally reached out to her, didn’t he?” Her heart was breaking for her friend. Jayme shouldered so much, and silently. When she gave a nod, Vi continued her speculation. “So my mother finds out he’s alive and has a daughter looking for work. That’s how you were appointed courier, and guard—an Eastern girl of humble background.”

  “Right again.”

  Vi shifted uncomfortably, looking out to sea. She ran a hand over her braids and let out a sigh. The information weighed heavy on her; she couldn’t imagine how it was for Jayme.

  “I’m so sorry,” Vi whispered. “I truly had no idea.”

  “I didn’t want you to.” Jayme shrugged. “What good could come of it?”

  “I’m your friend… I want to help you.”

  “Help me by letting it drop.” Jayme pushed away from the railing. “I’d rather not have all this hanging over our heads. We have other things to focus on.”

  “Yes, we do…” Vi turned to face her friend. She tried to tell by body language alone how she was feeling. Jayme was a closed book, however. And all Vi was left to go on was her word and faith that she meant what she said. “Is all forgiven? Are we all right?”

  “Yes, we’re all right. Graystone or Taffl, I’m still Jayme.” Jayme pulled her in for a small hug, then promptly started for her room. She looked exhausted, which was perhaps why Vi didn’t try to stop her.