by Kova, Elise
“Some.” Vi stepped off to the side, leaning against the wall next to her. “There’s rumors they might be lifting the martial law soon.”
“Rumors don’t hold water. Did they kill Zira?”
“I don’t know who Zira is, but the killings in the square have ended.”
That much was good, at least. The Emperor must be feeling more confident in his control of Mhashan. The next step would be—
“Criers today announced that tomorrow, there will a ball held for Mhashan’s court.”
“A ball?” Vi repeated. After weeks of ruling with blood and an iron fist, there was to be a party?
“I think it’s odd, having a party so close to so much bloodshed. But who understands royals? The ball is to follow some kind of announcement in the square opposite the castle.”
An engagement announcement. The Emperor would secure his hold in the West with a marriage. Vi finished off her bread with one more large bite, thanked the girl, and left. If there was a ball, the castle would be open; he’d want as many nobles as possible to attend.
Vi waited for nightfall. She’d staked her claim in the corner of one of the rooms—crowded enough that no one would notice one person missing, empty enough that she could have the dark corner of what was once a closet to herself.
“Durroe watt ivin,” Vi whispered, standing and sliding into the skin of one of the Imperial soldiers she’d been watching for weeks. The brief flash of light didn’t seem to wake any of those sleeping.
Carefully tiptoeing from the room, Vi stepped into the hall and walked with confidence. Magic was hot under her hand and the illusion blurred the edge of her vision. But it was far easier than the first time she had attempted a similar deceit—escaping out of the fortress of Soricium as Jayme.
“Lolan, don’t you usually take the mornings?” one of the guards asked as she approached the exit.
“Usually. I’m covering half a rotation,” Vi said softly, with the same Southern accent Ginger would use. Vi had picked this particular guard for her masquerade because she’d never raised her voice above a whisper. “Excuse me.”
Keeping her head down, Vi stepped out into the street. The guards at the door said nothing more. They believed the illusion completely.
Vi took a breath of fresh air. Freedom filled her lungs.
She started down the street toward where she knew the Le’Dan’s shop would be.
Chapter Five
She kept the illusion of Lolan’s skin most of the way through the city. Vi passed three other Imperial soldiers who each gave her a bob of their heads before continuing on their patrols. It wasn’t until she reached the opulent area of town where the Le’Dan shop stood proud that Vi stepped back into a side alley, crouched, and finally let go of the magic running thin against her palm.
Letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, Vi remained low, waiting. The city had been quiet for weeks, which meant the patrols were becoming more scarce. Even without them, the citizens stayed hidden away. Tiberus had conditioned them all now, whether they realized it or not.
After the next patrol passed, she eased out of her stance and looked to the building across the road. The first floor was a shop; a window above. Perhaps a loft for some kind of security or shopkeep to sleep in? Vi had no doubt that the Le’Dans would keep their goods heavily guarded, especially now, when the people around those valuable goods were hungry and desperate.
She hastily crossed the street and came to a stop at the door.
“Durroe sallvas tempre,” Vi whispered, willing the magic to spin outward and encompass both her and the door. “Juth calt.” The inside mechanics of the lock built in to the door shattered with a pop, and Vi eased herself quietly inside. Her magic hid the jingling of the bell overhead.
Vi willed the glyph for concealing her sound to hover across the entire store. She stepped behind the counters and pulled back the fabric covering the cases. Jewels shone like colored stars in the faintly glowing light of her magic.
“No… not one of these.” Vi replaced the cover, turning away from the cases. She didn’t need showpieces designed to accentuate the Le’Dan family’s skill. No, she needed something smaller, something no one would notice was missing, hopefully, until tomorrow night at the earliest.
Vi rummaged through the drawers behind the counters. There were all manner of jeweler’s tools in the first four. She stepped lightly to the back of the room and kept her magic strong. With a glance, Vi checked the street. No sign of soldiers yet.
“Something, something…” Vi murmured to herself, trusting her magic to keep her thoughts from anyone who might be slumbering upstairs. In the back of the room, tucked between two towers of drawers, was a thin case. Vi opened it and her eyes settled on rows of pieces tagged with names, dates, and amounts. Some were marked as paid, some weren’t.
She settled on a statement ring with a Western ruby the size of a quail’s egg propped up by two silver phoenixes on either side. Underneath the ruby, the jeweler had emblazoned the Le’Dan family crest.
“Marla Le’Dan,” Vi read the name off the tag before pocketing the piece. She didn’t know who Marla was, and Vi knew most of the names of the important Le’Dans throughout history. Which meant this woman was perfect—Marla was someone people might recognize by name, but likely wouldn’t know personally. And if the Le’Dans hadn’t found a way to get her ring to her yet, Vi suspected Marla was outside of the city.
The rest of the night unfolded with the same ease as breaking into the Le’Dan shop.
Vi made her way through Norin, slipping into the skins of various Imperial soldiers when necessary. She visited a dressmaker, furrier, and cobbler, relieving each of the pieces she’d need to enable the next phase of her plan.
Each of the stores was flush with goods covered in a thin layer of dust. Clearly, no one had been shopping for months, especially not in the more expensive areas of town. It made it easy for Vi to collect all her necessary supplies before dawn, giving her enough time to slip into an abandoned house just as morning broke.
She knew she should sleep, but her first moment of privacy had Vi extending her hand, reaching for one man.
“Narro hath hoolo.” Three simple words, and he stood before her.
“Vi,” he said with immense relief. Taavin’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her to him. Vi buried her face in his shoulder, pressing as close as she could, willing his embrace to feel as sturdy as she’d once known it to be. “It’s been three weeks. Don’t worry me like this.”
“I’m all right.” She shifted enough to look him in the eye. “See?”
“You’re skin and bones… and in dire need of a bath.”
She couldn’t disagree. But rather than linger on that topic, Vi asked instead, “How do you know how long it’s been?”
“From within the watch, I might not know what you’re doing, but I have a sense of how much time is passing. My consciousness is stored there, so when I’m not in this world, it feels almost like twilight sleep—not really awake, but not fully asleep either.” Taavin released one arm, running his finger across her forehead as if to brush away stray hairs. The ghostly touch was feather-light, and the strands that had escaped her braids barely moved. “What’s happened?”
“I found Fiera,” Vi began delicately. “Though, in doing so, I ended up getting myself captured.”
“Captured?”
“I’m fine,” Vi insisted once more.
“What did you do?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is—”
“It does matter,” he interrupted firmly. “I exist to chronicle time and keep record of your actions. I can’t do that if you don’t tell me them exactly. Our best hope for figuring out what will save this world is ruling out what won’t.”
With a palm on his chest, Vi pushed him away lightly. She folded her arms to guard herself—to try to hold in the truth. He was already worried enough. Vi walked over to the boarded window of the parlor where they stood. She could feel
his gaze as keenly as the beams of sunlight that streamed through the cracks in the boards.
“I went out to find Fiera the night Mhashan fell.”
“You went out?”
“Yes, into the fray.” Vi could tell from his tone he was putting the events together.
“You went out into the field of battle knowing that if you died, this world is doomed?” Taavin stomped over, though the floor didn’t so much as creak—his footsteps held no real weight. “What were you thinking?”
“I had to see it,” she said without looking at him. Her eyes saw that night, replaying its events. “I had to see it with my own eyes. It made all of this real.” She finally locked eyes with him. “Besides, didn’t you say the first thing I must do is get the sword?”
“Yes, but—”
“Well, I have a plan to do that now.”
“Is it just as reckless as your last plan?” Taavin frowned.
“I’m not sure if I should tell you. You might just scold me for it.”
“Yes, I’m going to scold you for risking your life when the fate of our world hangs in the balance.” Taavin gripped her hand, the touch a pale shadow of the intensity in his eyes. “Think about it, Vi. One mistake and the best that can happen is this world is headed for another future of death. The worst? An age of darkness from which there is no escape—death of all things, the atrophy of our world, a perpetual midnight without stars.”
She squeezed his hand back just as tightly, looking up at his emerald eyes. “And if I do nothing, we are equally stuck in this loop, which is its own form of torture. I must act if I am to end this.”
“But do so cautiously,” he insisted. “Just telling someone the truth about yourself could tip the scales and change fate in a way none of us expect.”
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 flowin
g 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 diamond 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—”
