by Kova, Elise
“I think you have the wrong person,” Vi said softly.
Richard stopped himself mid-sentence and stared at her. He blinked several times, tilting his head, before taking a step forward to get a better look. He searched her face with a gaze as tender as it was knowing before that same expression became distant and inquisitive.
“You’re her, aren’t you?” he said finally.
“And just who do you think I am?”
“The traveler the princess foretold.”
Chapter Six
“She foretold… me?” Vi leveraged all her royal training to keep her surprise in check.
“She did. She said a traveler would come who wore her face.”
Vi wore a knowing smile. Fiera’s actions were gaining clarity. “Yes, I have come from very far to meet her.”
“Sorry to say you don’t have any hope of a private meeting. A public audience, perhaps tonight. But no one has been able to get to her, not even one of her oldest and dearest friends.” He sighed heavily and looked toward the empty thrones at the far end of the room. “She’s been kept sequestered under lock and key with that wretched man.”
Vi took a small step toward Richard, looking toward the thrones as well. She said nothing, and the silence greased his tongue.
“I shudder to think of what he’s done to her—what he’s threatened her with—to bring about this union.”
“Perhaps he loves her?” Vi suggested.
“Loves her?” Richard balked. “The man loves one thing: war. He’s long been married to death itself. He doesn’t love, he conquers.”
“Have you met him?” Vi had always been told that, above all else, Tiberus had been over the sun for Fiera Ci’Dan. That while he had stolen her land, she had stolen his heart.
“No. Just how much socializing have you been able to do recently?” Richard’s eyebrows arched. “Forgive my tone, and that I’ve yet to learn your name, Lady…”
“Yullia.”
“Lady Yullia.” Richard took her hand and brought it to his lips. “An honor to meet you.”
“And you as well.”
“You have an uncommon name. Might I ask where—”
Two doors at the far end of the hall opened and interrupted Richard before he could finish. A hush fell over those gathered. They turned collectively to the group of three standing in the doorway.
“Ophain, Lord of the West!” a crier announced as the man in front stepped forward along a white runner. “Sisters to the Lord of the West, Lady Tina and Lady Lilo.” Two women stepped out, walking side by side.
“Lord of the West,” Richard murmured at Vi’s side. “He should be king.”
Vi remained silent, watching the procession. Ophain was heartbreakingly similar in features to her father, save the hooked nose and slightly longer hair that he wore tied at the nape of his neck. Tina, the older sister, was spindly and elegant. Lilo was stouter and, despite all that had transpired, wore a serene smile on her face.
Perhaps she was smiling because she’d somehow avoided engagement to the man who had conquered their homeland. Both women making their way down the long runner to the dais were older than Fiera, and both were currently un-betrothed. They would’ve been the more expected choices.
“My friends, my noble kin,” Ophain began as he reached the top of the dais. There were only two chairs behind him, Vi noticed, and he sat in neither. “I realize this celebration has come under… unconventional circumstances.”
“That’s a way to put it,” Richard mumbled. He wasn’t the only one.
“However, it is just that—a celebration,” Ophain emphasized. “My darling sister, the youngest and I think we can all agree the strongest among us—” Lilo gave a nod from Ophain’s left “—has been chosen as our future Empress. She is a woman whose hands were only for the sword and now, they will help hold up the Empire.”
Any other proclamation, under almost any other circumstances, would have been met with cheers. But those gathered were silent. Slowly, a few people clapped—mostly the Southerners in attendance—and then a few more. A depressing showing for a crowd that dressed for a party but felt as though they were attending a funeral.
“Thus, it is my honor to present the Emperor Tiberus Solaris and future Empress Fiera Ci’Dan!” Ophain motioned to the back of the room, where the doors were still open wide.
Two figures emerged from the darkness and into the light of the hall. The Emperor wore the sun crown—a golden circlet with fiery sunbeams stretching up from its base. His crisp, white, double-breasted jacket and tailored trousers were a clear attempt to distance himself from the more flowing styles of the South.
Fiera walked in stark contrast beside him. Her crown was a simple silver band across her brow. She wore a tightly tailored, crimson dress with a split all the way up to her hip. Underneath were black leggings and boots that appeared to have the dust of training fields still on them. Silver pauldrons adorned her shoulders and a sword Vi would recognize anywhere was strapped to her hip.
The only thing connecting them were their hands. Tiberus escorted her with his elbow out, palm parallel to the floor. Fiera’s hand rested atop.
They didn’t look like they were walking into a party in their honor. They looked as though they were walking to war. Yet the effect seemed to work on the crowd, for as they passed men and women alike dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.
Vi was no exception, though she was one of the last to kneel, waiting long enough that Fiera’s attention came to her and her alone. Vi held the woman’s eyes until her knee met the floor. Fiera turned forward quickly, keeping her reaction to Vi’s presence concealed.
“My newest and well-loved subjects,” the Emperor started when they reached the dais. Fiera’s siblings had stepped back to stand behind the thrones. “It is my honor to stand before you today. Not just as your ruler, but as your future kin.”
Vi glanced over to Richard. His jaw was clenched tight, veins bulging in his neck. The man looked like he wanted to scream more and more with each passing second.
“It is my most sincere hope that you all will join us in celebration, now and over the next six months, as we prepare to join in union in the Cathedral of the Mother.”
The room remained silent. The Emperor stared out at the crowd for another long moment before he stepped back and assumed his seat in the gilded throne tufted in blue velvet. Fiera, however, remained.
She swung her gaze across the room, a hand resting on the hilt of her crystal sword.
“Lords and Ladies of Mhashan,” she began in Mhashanese. The Emperor didn’t have much of a reaction, which told Vi that Tiberus was confident in what she was going to say. “I was your princess. More than that—I was your sworn protector. My father appointed me the head of the Knights of Jadar so that I may keep you all safe.
“I still hold that duty dear to my heart. I know you might not always understand how, but I fight for you. I will continue to fight for you until my dying breath. However, fate guides us to unexpected places. I no longer defend you on the field, but from a throne—a throne where I know I will find happiness. I am happy. Join me in that, my kin. Eternal flame.”
Fiera finished with the common Western colloquialism—fiarum evantes. The term was both greeting and farewell, meant to inspire good will.
“Guide us through the night.” Kotun un nox, Vi said aloud, when no one else would.
Others picked up the sentiment, echoing her. The words rippled through the crowd. One by one, they uttered the expression as a form of solidarity with their once princess and now future empress.
Fiera sat on her throne. As soon as she was settled, minstrels playing harps and lutes picked up a merry tune set to the fast beat of a drum. It was jarring to the very clearly uncomfortable atmosphere. But someone had planned for this, and servants passed wine around on trays. The nobles eagerly grabbed for the goblets, searching for anything to quench the awkward feeling that hung in the air.
Richard took on
e more long look at Fiera and Tiberus before turning, starting eagerly toward a servant passing drinks. Vi took a hasty step, falling into place at his side.
“I need a drink,” he muttered. “Something stronger than the stuff they’re serving here… but this is a start.” He lifted a goblet off a tray but Vi refused it when he offered. She fussed with the skirt of her gown instead.
“Have faith, Richard Le’Dan. The South isn’t all bad,” Vi encouraged lightly with a pat on his chest. Lucky for her, he too wore a military-style jacket with pockets over both pectorals—one of which now held the ring Vi had lifted from the Le’Dan store. Taavin had cautioned her not to keep it beyond tonight. This was a much better solution than casting it in some dark corner. “You might even learn to like it someday.”
Before he could retort, she walked away, her mission with him finished. One by one, men and women were lining up to pay respects to the Emperor. Vi stepped into the line and waited her turn.
“Emperor Tiberus Solaris,” she said in Southern Common when it was her turn. “Lady Fiera Ci’Dan.” Vi switched deftly to Mhashanese to address the princess. “It is my honor to come before you both and wish you well.” Vi dropped to a knee.
“And what family do you hail from?” Tiberus asked. All of the other nobles had made it a point to very clearly state who they were when they swore their allegiance. Someone in the shadows was no doubt keeping a tally of which families weren’t here.
“I have no family, your grace.” Some murmurs. Vi could see movement from the corners of her eyes and wondered if the guards were already coming for her now that she’d identified herself as the person who did not belong among all the members of the Western court. “But I do come bearing an engagement gift.”
“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 across 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.
