Sovereign Sacrifice

by Kova, Elise

  Move slowly, Vi reminded herself in Taavin’s words. She had time, decades of time. She didn’t have to take the sword in one night.

  “I wish to be at your side—guiding and protecting as I am able,” Vi said finally, after weighing her various options. “I can serve you in many ways, and perhaps we will find one that is the best for your needs. I am confident with a sword, and with magic. I am wise to the ways of the world. And I can see along the Mother’s lines as well.”

  Fiera hummed softly. “I should tell you no. I wouldn’t want to get a reputation for accepting people easily into my employ. Especially those who break our laws.”

  “Will you tell me no?” Vi asked, genuinely unsure of the answer.

  “I will tell you that I am a woman of faith—and I believe in the Mother’s will that guides us all. You feel of fate, and speak like one who has the sight.” Fiera stood. “So kneel, traveler Yullia.”

  Vi pushed off the bench and did as she was instructed.

  “Do you swear fealty and loyalty to me, and to the Solaris crown?”

  She didn’t even have to fake the broad grin at the question. “Yes.”

  “Then consider yourself a member of my guard, formerly the Knights of Jadar…” A smirk pulled up the corners of Fiera’s lips. It was somewhat coquettish and the first playful thing Vi had seen about the otherwise perfectly composed royal. “I’m still working on a new name.”

  “No names needed.” Vi rose to her feet. “I am here for you, your highness. Not for a title.”

  “And I have been truly blessed in that.” Fiera stood and began walking once more, but her shoulders had more sway to them, her steps far less rigid. Just like that, a barrier between them had been lowered, if not entirely removed. “You are not the first the Mother has sent to me in this way.”

  “Who was—” Before Vi could finish, three people appeared in the doorway.

  “There she is.” Tiberus let out a sigh of relief, crossing over to Fiera and scooping up her hands. He didn’t even so much as glance Vi’s way. Vi wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t even realize there were other people around him. It was a far cry from the Emperor Vi saw in the great hall. “You worried me—all of us—wandering off without Zira at the very least. It’s too dangerous still for you to do that. The association with me will have people out to harm you.”

  “No one in Mhashan would harm me. And I had to come and meet with my new guard.” Fiera motioned to Vi and the Emperor slowly turned his head to look at her.

  “You’re the criminal.”

  “I’d prefer ‘party crasher’.” Vi shrugged.

  The Emperor’s expression grew more concerned at her nonchalance, but lightened instantly when Fiera let out a burst of laughter. He finally chuckled as well.

  “You are an odd one, aren’t you?” Tiberus shook his head with a slight smile, all the while his eyes still on Fiera. “I suppose if my beloved trusts you, so shall I.”

  Most of the stories Vi had heard of her grandfather were about him at the end of his decades of conquest. They were tales of an older man, hardened by war. The man before Vi now was barely in his thirties and he looked not a day past twenty-five.

  “Yullia?” a familiar voice interrupted the conversation.

  Vi grinned. “Hello, Zira.”

  “I thought it was you!” Zira hastily walked and clasped Vi’s shoulder. “Forget how she made it out of the jail cell… how did you make it out of containment? You do have an interesting set of skills, don’t you?”

  “You could say that.”

  “A set of skills we will use for our Empire,” Fiera insisted to Tiberus. “I have made her my guard and would seek not to have her punished for impersonating a noble tonight, or sneaking out of the soldiers’ confinement. She was merely following the will of the Mother, and my will, to stand at my side.”

  “Then it shall be done.” Tiberus gave a nod to Vi and, like that, she was absolved of all crimes.

  “Thank you, my love,” Fiera said lightly, almost sweetly. It was yet another stark contrast to the stiff, formal woman Vi had seen in the main hall.

  “You are to be my Empress, the sword protecting my back, and will rule at my side. I wish for you to know always that your voice is heard.” Tiberus cupped Fiera’s cheek and Vi gave a glance to Zira, who was barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

  “Zira, will you see that Yullia is settled in a room?” Fiera asked, turning away from Tiberus’s affections. “There are more than enough open. You can place her wherever you think is appropriate.”

  “Yes, your highness.”

  “Zerian, please escort us back into the party. They’ll wonder if we’re gone for too long,” Tiberus said.

  “And leaving nobles to wonder only leads them to gossip.” Fiera sighed. “You’re right, we should be along.” Tiberus offered Fiera his elbow and she took it, starting away. But not before Fiera paused once more to say, “I look forward to working with you, Yullia.”

  Vi stared at the familiar dark eyes. Fiera’s spell-like quality of speech made Vi feel as if she were the only person in the world. Perhaps it was this quality that made others eager to bend over backward for the princess.

  “And you as well, princess.” Vi gave a small bow of her head. Zira and Zerian exchanged a nod and the man escorted the two royals back into the library. Vi glanced over at Zira, whose whole body now seemed racked with tension. “Is everything all right?”

  “My eyes tell me I’m seeing the men who are responsible for King Rocham’s death and the fall of Mhashan, while my mind reminds me they are no longer my enemies.” Zira shrugged, shoved her hands in her pockets, and began strolling forward. “It takes some getting used to.”

  “I can imagine,” Vi said thoughtfully and fell into step at Zira’s side. “Does she love him?” As though Fiera’s love would make the circumstances easier to bear for Zira.

  “I can’t tell,” Zira answered candidly. Vi was grateful they’d already had the opportunity to build a rapport; talking came easily, and there was no need to dance around topics when they’d spent days imprisoned together. Then again, Zira didn’t seem like the type to dance in any context that didn’t involve holding a blade. “I know she loves her people. She loves this land. And if loving him saves those things, she will love him to the sun and back.”

  Her grandfather and grandmother’s love had been the stuff of legend, and Vi had believed it. Though now, she wondered… A begrudging political arrangement wouldn’t have done nearly as much to keep the West loyal and begin the slow process of endearing the South to their future Empress and Emperor. It made sense the story would be spun in brighter light. Vi’s chest tightened and her breathing grew short, but not from the stairs she and Zira climbed.

  Despite having been taught all her life that marriage was a political transaction for someone born to her status, Vi had looked to Fiera and Tiberus as a model for how a political union could straddle both love and politics. The thought suddenly seemed so naive now.

  “Here, these quarters belonged to one of Fiera’s other generals who’s… Well, let’s not linger on the details.”

  Vi walked into the room. It reminded her of a smaller version of the hotel in the Crossroads: a carefully carved sliding screen separated the bed from a sitting area, and two doors at her left likely led to a closet and bathing room.

  The memory briefly misted her eyes. That hotel had been the last place she’d seen her brother. Those few weeks they’d spent together on the road were all she’d ever have now, and they weren’t nearly enough.

  “Make yourself as comfortable as possible,” Zira continued, oblivious. “Do you have personal effects anywhere in the city I should collect?”

  “No, I travel light.”

  “As a former mercenary of the Nameless Company, I respect that.” Zira smiled. “I’m sure I can find more than enough spare clothes for you before morning. We’ll need you dressed properly as one of her guards because tomorrow, you’ll face someth
ing far scarier than an Imperial army.”

  “What?”

  Zira turned from the doorway, a wry grin on her face. “The Royal Council.”

  Chapter Eight

  Zira was good to her word and brought Vi two trunks of various clothing to choose from. As usual, the slim-cut styles of the West were nearly impossible to fit into if they weren’t perfectly tailored to the wearer. But Vi found something that didn’t look comically large or small.

  She braided her hair in large parts, knotting the ropes together up and away from her face at the back of her head. There were already enough similarities between her and Fiera; Vi didn’t want to encourage them further. Keeping her hair up rather than wearing it loose as Fiera did would be a good point of differentiation.

  The council met just outside the royal quarters, which made it right down the hall and around the corner from Vi’s room.

  When she entered the chamber, she was greeted by only four familiar faces—Fiera, Zira, Ophain, and Zerian. Tiberus was surprisingly absent and everyone else was a wary stranger. Vi would tread lightly while she determined if she needed to earn their favor.

  “We should discuss the matter of the soldiers first,” Lord Twintle, councilor for maritime matters, pressed as soon as Fiera opened the meeting to concerns at large. “They are the men and women of the West, men and women who put their lives on the line for their kingdom.”

  “Their kingdom is no more,” Zerian interjected. “In the eyes of the Empire they are war crimi—”

  “They are equal citizens with a chance of serving the Empire,” Fiera said, cutting him off quickly with a look before he could say something that would likely raise tempers. “Lord Twintle, I know your son is in one of the containment shelters.”

  “Containment shelter? You mean prison.”

  Fiera ignored the remark and continued, “We’re doing all we can at the moment for our soldiers. But returning the city at large to a point of comfort and normalcy is our first priority. That way the soldiers see there is nothing more to defend and will integrate back with society more smoothly as citizens of Solaris.”

  “They will always want to stand for Mhashan,” he mumbled. Fiera ignored him.

  “Lord Twintle’s eldest son is Luke,” Zira whispered in Vi’s ear. “He’s been vying to get him out of the prison for weeks.”

  “Speaking of that normalcy, Lord Twintle, how is trade? And fishing?” Fiera asked.

  “Fishing is better now that we aren’t dodging Imperial vessels.”

  “And Oparium?”

  “We’re still talking with the dock master there regarding getting into port.”

  Vi stared at the notes, letters, ledgers, and maps spread on the table before her. She had heard of council meetings like this from her parents—even fantasized about one day being a part of them. Now that she was here, and with the knowledge she held, it was proving difficult to remain silent.

  “Until trade improves,” Vi began, and all eyes immediately swung to her. More than one councilmember looked surprised by her boldness. “Might I suggest we import additional rations from the East? I believe they are going to have a rather impressive year for grain; they might be able to spare more than they’re letting on, in an effort to conserve in case of a poor harvest next year. But I’m confident the Mother will bless their fields again.”

  “And just who are you again?” Lord Twintle asked dully.

  “My name is Yullia.”

  “I didn’t ask for your name,” he drawled. “Let me put it more simply for you: why should we care about your thoughts? Especially since they are the thoughts of a criminal.”

  Vi merely shrugged. “Care or don’t. I merely offer my wisdom.”

  “And your wisdom is welcome,” Fiera insisted with a glance to Twintle. “Yullia is gifted with the goddess’s sight. Perhaps even more so than I.” There were several skeptical glances at that statement. “I am certain when she gives us her thoughts, they are worth listening to. I’ll speak with the Emperor regarding reaching out to the Lady of the East for additional supplies.”

  “Perhaps in that same missive he can introduce me to her,” Ophain suggested from Fiera’s right. “As I might need to deal with her directly in the coming years.”

  “I’ll bring it up.” Fiera nodded to her brother.

  Vi studied Ophain as he leaned forward, making a few notes in his personal ledger. He seemed to be taking the situation with surprising grace. Then again, he was heir to the last king of the West and had somehow escaped being murdered following the end of the war. That would be enough to make anyone grateful.

  “If we are thinking of asking the East for further assistance, we should check the current storerooms to ensure our counts are accurate,” Denja, a councilor for commerce mused. She had a thick accent—one Vi couldn’t quite place. It didn’t sound entirely Western to her ears. “I have been sending messengers regularly, but I worry the Imperial soldiers have been dipping in without approval.”

  “Imperial soldiers would never,” Zerian insisted.

  “Then perhaps they haven’t been taking careful notes.” Denja smiled thinly.

  “We shall go together,” Fiera suggested.

  “Do you think that’s wise?” her brother asked.

  “I’ve been shut up in this castle for too long.” Fiera sighed and collected her papers. “The engagement has been announced and the people should know I’m not being held hostage until my wedding day. Besides, I’ll have my knights with me.”

  Her gaze lifted to Zira and Vi. They both gave a nod to the princess.

  “Knights,” Twintle murmured. “But they’re not anymore, are they?”

  “I’ve yet to decide what the fate of the Knights of Jadar will be,” Fiera said. She quickly returned the conversation to its previous topic, looking to Denja. “Do you have time now?”

  “Of course, your highness.” When the councilor bowed her head, the beads attached to the ornate headscarf she wore clanked softly.

  “Excellent. I leave the other matters in Ophain’s capable hands.” Fiera started around the table. Denja, Vi, and Zira following behind.

  “Where are you from, Yullia?” Denja asked as they walked. “You speak Southern Common and Mhashanese quite well.”

  “I’ve been gifted with languages,” Vi said honestly. When Denja continued to stare expectantly at her, Vi knew she hadn’t dodged the initial question. “I’ve traveled all over. I’ve never quite had a home and couldn’t tell you where I was born or who my parents were.” Vi kept Taavin’s words in mind as she danced around the question; telling people who she was could have unintended consequences.

  “How heartbreaking, an orphan alone in the world.” Denja didn’t sound for a moment like she was genuinely sympathetic. “And now you stand in direct service to one of the most powerful people on this continent. That’s extraordinarily lucky.”

  This continent. The words stuck out to Vi like an absent compass rose on a map.

  “And where are you from?” Vi asked, trying to keep her voice light. “You have the bright blue eyes of a Southerner.” So blue they almost had hints of purple.

  “I am from the south of Mhashan,” she answered easily. “Right along the border. Some Southern blood made it into my family tree.”

  “I see.” Vi didn’t trust those unnaturally colored eyes, full of suspicious knowing. But for now, Vi put the sense behind her. She had other things to focus on—like getting a moment with Fiera to discuss the sword.

  They stepped out into the royal stables and continued out toward the drawbridge that connected the castle to the city. However, before they could depart, an Imperial soldier blocked their way.

  “Your highness, do you require a guard detail into the city today?”

  “I already have my guards,” Fiera motioned to Vi and Zira.

  Even though Fiera’s unspoken dismissal was clear, the soldier didn’t move. “The Emperor has insisted that you are to be protected at all times.”


  “And I have told you that I will be. And I am quite able to protect myself, thank you.” Fiera patted the steel sword on her hip and looked the man up and down. “I’d venture I was training long before you ever even saw a sword.”

  He pursed his lips together but managed to squeeze out, “This is an order from the Emperor.”

  “And I am the future Empress,” Fiera retorted. “I wish to go out into my city without a pack of soldiers around me. The war is over, sir, and the people should know it.”

  “The city is unsafe.”

  “What do you know of the city?” Zira asked, a lazy grin on her face. “I think her highness and all her advisors have a clear sense of just how dangerous it is or isn’t.”

  “Now, stand aside,” Fiera ordered firmly. “If the Emperor has a problem, he’ll take it up with me.”

  “Yes, your highness.” The soldier finally relented and stepped aside. Vi could feel him and the others in his squadron watching as the four women passed.

  “Do you think it’s actually dangerous?” Denja asked.

  “They’re Southern. Judging by their sunburnt cheeks, they’ll likely try and claim the sun itself is dangerous,” Zira remarked dryly.

  Fiera let out a low chuckle. “Perhaps, for soldiers, the city poses some threat. But I want the people to see me among them without Southerners surrounding me. To know that the Mhashan they once knew has not vanished, regardless of its name—and that I am still with them, regardless of mine.”

  After a beat of what felt like companionable silence, Vi cleared her throat. “Speaking of Mhashan,” she began delicately. “The Knights of Jadar…”

  “Don’t start sounding like Twintle,” Ziera muttered with a roll of her eyes. “The man is relentless.”

  “Of course he is. He’s one of the last living commanders of the Knights.” Fiera sighed heavily. “It was an honor he doesn’t want to see stripped.”

  Vi’s stomach flipped on the thought and settled the wrong way. She couldn’t recall Lord Twintle in any of her readings or discussions, but that didn’t make him unimportant. From this point on, in Vi’s world, the Knights had devolved into a shadowy, separatist organization that stood against her family.