Sovereign Sacrifice

by Kova, Elise

  The words echoed through her ears; Vi staggered back. She swayed, but righted herself. A buzzing sound vibrated her brain and the world blurred for a moment, tilting in a sickening way. He’d only spoken the truth, a truth she’d known. Why did it hurt so much?

  “Vi, I’m sorry,” Taavin said hastily.

  “No,” Vi whispered. “You’re right.” She forced a smile, but felt her cheeks curve into what was certainly more of a snarl. “My family is gone, and I’m clearly a fool for caring about these people.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Leave me.” Vi waved her hand and released the glyph. Blissful silence filled the air as Vi was left alone with the sword. She stared at it, wondering how a single object could cause so much pain.

  Vi approached the weapon slowly. Her eyes were on the sword, but her mind was on the Knights of Jadar. While she was here, waiting, they were plotting. Everyone else was acting as Vi drifted along.

  This feeling was worse than being in bed for a month with autumn fever. Worse than waiting her whole life for her family to retrieve her.

  “Nothing good comes of a Solaris with a crystal weapon,” Vi murmured, putting her hand on the scabbard. “You were right, Father.”

  She hung her head and felt her eyes burn. Vi took a shaky breath, and then another. She remained like that until her muscles were stiff and her feet ached. She stayed in that tucked-away armory room for so long, the sun was streaming through the windows as she made her way back to her quarters.

  There she remained until she was certain she wouldn’t betray Taavin’s trust and run off after Deneya.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Vi stared out the window at Norin. For months, it had been slowly blossoming before her eyes like a bloom that had been trapped in the permafrost of war now poking through the snow. People were beginning to take to the streets again; the Western militia in its entirety had finally been freed of their confinement.

  She was used to looking down at cities. She’d spent the vast majority of her life doing just that as she was kept in the fortress of Soricium. Now, it was Taavin’s caution keeping her here. She was relegated to council meetings, training grounds, and working with the crystal sword in secret, trying to figure out the depths of its power… As Deneya did the real work of keeping track of the Knights of Jadar and their ever-growing strength.

  “… ask her again. I don’t think she’s listening,” Zira said from where she and Fiera stood.

  “Yullia?” Fiera repeated herself.

  Vi jerked. “Yes? Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize, all this bores me to tears, too.” Zira collapsed into a chair, her long legs kicking out and falling limply over the armrest.

  “It’s not that bad,” Fiera mumbled. “Yullia, I was wondering what you thought of the dress color. Of course, silver or red would be traditional Western colors, but white or gold would be more fitting from an Imperial standpoint.”

  Vi walked over to the table, looking at the swatches of fabrics the royal tailors had sent for Fiera to review. The whole, cluttered mess represented what Vi had always expected of a royal wedding—a political headache where one misstep could be the difference between a smooth ascension and a long-term nightmare.

  “If I’m honest, I think the white and gold is stunning.” Fiera lifted a scrap of fabric covered in layers of golden petals. In the light, it sparked almost like flames. She layered it atop pure white silk, humming. “Yet I worry it will ruffle a few feathers in the Western Court if I don’t show anything of home.”

  “The Western Court is a relic now and they need to get over themselves,” Zira muttered, tipping her head back. If Vi had to bet, she would guess the woman found the toils of war easier to bear than wedding preparations.

  “Even if Tiberus has formally disbanded the Crimson Court, they are still influential families in this land. And he also invited most of the members to be a part of the Southern Court whenever they choose to attend.”

  “And how often do you think they’ll head south?” Zira asked dryly.

  “That’s not up to me.” Fiera’s usually composed tone slipped to the edge of annoyance, prompting Zira to stare out the window as Vi had been. “Anyway, Yullia, what do you think?”

  Vi took the fabrics from Fiera’s hands, feeling the sumptuous textiles between the pads of her fingers. Her clothes had once solely been made from cloth like this. Now, Vi felt as though she shouldn’t be touching them. She returned them to the table after only a few seconds.

  “I’m inclined to agree with you—all white and gold could spell disaster. The nobility of the West finally seem to be settling with this idea, and you’ve ensured Mhashan you will still rule as their princess while being a Solaris.”

  “She should wear what she wants,” Zira insisted. “It’s her wedding.”

  “It’s not though,” Vi said before Fiera could get a word in. “She is a symbol first and everything here—” Vi swept her arm over the table “—conveys a message about what that symbol stands for.”

  Zira blinked blankly at Vi. Her mouth opened, closed, and she looked away again. Vi turned back to Fiera only to be met with a strange expression.

  “I hope I didn’t overstep.” Vi bowed her head.

  “No, you stole the words from my mouth,” Fiera said brightly, patting her shoulder. “You really are a natural at the ways of diplomacy.” Vi snorted at that. “Now, my astute friend, tell me what color my dress will be.”

  “How about a compromise? Wear gold on white for your dress. But then your jewelry could be silver and red.”

  “Yes, a silver crown inlaid with Western rubies.” Fiera’s expression lit up at the idea.

  A silver crown. The thought drifted through Vi’s mind on a memory. Her mother had held her once as she’d fallen asleep, indulging all of Vi’s then girlish curiosities on the details of her wedding to her father. She had worn a silver crown…

  “I think a silver crown would be beautiful,” Vi said in a tone softened with nostalgia.

  “It’s settled, then!” Fiera clapped her hands together. “I love it.”

  “Excellent.” Zira pushed herself away from her chair. “Is that all we had for today?”

  “For now.” Fiera placed a hand on her stomach. “I’m starving.”

  “After all the breakfast you ate?” Zira gave her a startled look. “I wouldn’t eat for a month if I cleaned my plate like that.”

  “Planning takes a lot of energy!” Fiera gave a laugh and started for the door alongside Zira.

  Or she was already eating for two. Fiera had given birth to Aldrik in all-too-short a time after the wedding in Vi’s history. Just long enough that no one questioned her father’s legitimacy, especially since the Emperor had always acknowledged him as his son.

  If she was pregnant, that meant they were headed along the same path as Vi’s world. Not that she could’ve expected it to have changed; she hadn’t done much to shift any fated events.

  “Yullia, are you coming?” Fiera asked, pausing to glance over her shoulder.

  “Yes, of course,” she said. What she really wanted to do was stay in that spot and beg Fiera to listen to her as Vi warned her against all that was to come. For it wouldn’t matter what dress she wore, or who she upset, if she was just going to end up dead before the year was up.

  “Zira, while I’m at lunch, will you do me a favor and fetch the sword? Tiberus and I will be rehearsing the ceremony with the Crones this afternoon.”

  “Why not just use a regular sword instead?” Vi asked. She didn’t like taking the sword out of its hiding place.

  “I suggested as much,” Fiera sighed. “But Tiberus was insistent… He’s not been quiet about finally seeing the legendary Sword of Jadar. I hope if I indulge him some, it’ll lose its wonder.”

  It never would, but Vi didn’t have the heart to tell Fiera that. “Are you rehearsing at the Cathedral of the Sun?”

  “No, we’ll do it here.”

  “At least it’s
not leaving the castle, then.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Fiera gave them both a smile and passed the key to the armory over to Zira. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to keep Tiberus waiting.” Fiera turned, starting up the hall.

  “Princess—” Zira began, quickly stopping herself.

  “Yes?” Fiera looked startled at the outburst.

  “It’s nothing.” Zira put her hands in her pockets and smiled. “Have a good lunch.”

  Vi followed Zira down toward the armory. If the sword was being taken out of its hiding place, then she was going to stay glued to its side. But her thoughts wandered from the sword.

  “What was that?” Vi finally asked, when it was clear Zira wasn’t about to say anything.

  “What was what?”

  “The thing you were going to ask Fiera.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  They arrived at the armory and Vi held her breath as Zira undid the lock, waiting to see if she noticed anything amiss. But if there was a sign of Vi’s nighttime experimentations and practice with the sword, Zira overlooked it. In fact, even as she took the sword off the wall, her gaze was a thousand miles away.

  “Zira—”

  “My family is here,” Zira finally let out with a heavy sigh. “My mother and daughter.”

  “Raylynn?”

  Zira froze for a full half-minute before turning slowly. “I don’t recall ever telling you my daughter’s name.”

  “Perhaps you… forgot?”

  “I think I’d remember.”

  “Perhaps the Mother gave me a vision of the girl.”

  “Did she…” Zira murmured, looking at Vi as if seeing her for the first time. “Perhaps you can help me.”

  “With what?”

  “Come, and let me tell you on the way.”

  They strolled through the castle, winding down the now-familiar pathways. She ran her fingertips along the walls, feeling the grooves of the stone underneath her nails. There had been another Vi before her who had walked these halls. Had she made the same motions? Were her fingerprints running along the tracks of the fingerprints of ninety-two other Vis throughout time?

  “A few years ago, Fiera told me that when she met Raylynn she would look into the girl’s future,” Zira started.

  “Like a curiosity shop?”

  “Yes, exactly. I made the mistake of telling Raylynn and now she won’t stop asking about it. I think that’s part of how she convinced my mother to drag her here.” Zira looked to Vi with pleading eyes. “I know I shouldn’t ask this. But I don’t want to trouble Fiera, not now, not with all that’s going on. And I know that five is a little young to scry into a child’s future, but—”

  “I’ll do it,” Vi interrupted, touching the woman’s elbow. “I’ll pretend to be Fiera and try to peer into the future.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done to help me.” She smiled, hoping the expression hid her uncertainty. Unlike the future-seers at curiosity shops, Vi had much less control over what she did and did not see. But she also had Lightspinning at her disposal, and could make a convincing show of it.

  “Thank you.” Zira squeezed her hand once as she led them through two side rooms and into a mirrored reception area with a few low chairs.

  There, an older woman sat on her feet and held up her palms, as a young child punched and kicked them.

  “Faster, Raylynn,” the elderly woman demanded sternly. “You’re spending too much time on both feet. Bounce!”

  The girl tried to do as her grandmother bid, focus knotting her brow. Her golden hair, a striking contrast against the deep tan of her Western skin, swished as she moved.

  “I don’t think she’s meant to be a brawler. I think she’ll hear the song of the sword like her mother,” Zira said.

  “Mommy!” the girl squealed, sprinting over to Zira. Zira crouched down, taking her daughter into her arms. “Can I come live with you in the castle now? I want to defend the princess, too.”

  “You will defend whatever and whoever you wish.” Zira tapped Raylynn’s nose. “When you are old enough to hear the calling.”

  “But I can fight.” Raylynn wriggled from her mother’s grasp, bouncing from foot to foot. She threw jabs into the air identical to the ones she’d been practicing with her grandmother.

  “You can fight better than half the men I train, my little dagger.” Zira laughed, ruffling her hair. The woman’s tone was entirely different around her daughter. She still had the sharp edge about her that Vi would always associate with Zira, but it was tempered with a tenderness unique to a mother’s love.

  “Thank you for gracing us this day, your highness.” Zira’s mother dipped into a low bow, her forehead touching the floor. “You honor us.”

  “Princess, I will be your new guard!” Raylynn proclaimed, thrusting a hand into the air. “I am here to report.”

  Vi let out a laugh and crouched down as well. “You will be a mighty guard indeed, someday. Though you should listen to your mother and give yourself time to see what cause calls you.”

  Raylynn lowered her arm, thinking about this. “If you say so, your highness.”

  “Now you’ve met my daughter, Raylynn.” Zira scooped up the girl, pulling her into her lap. “And this is my mother, Sophie.”

  “It’s an honor to meet you both.” Vi gracefully eased herself onto one of the legless and armless chairs across from the family. Raylynn’s golden hair was a stark contrast to the rest of them. Her father’s identity was a mystery Vi would not be asking about, given that the girl was conceived after the South invaded. “Zira has told me so much about you.”

  “She told me you would look into my future!”

  “Raylynn, please,” Sophie half scolded, half sighed.

  “Yes, I will. Would you like me to do that now?” Vi glanced over at Zira. The woman bobbed her head yes.

  “Yes please.” Raylynn bounced from her mother’s lap. “Gran and I brought things to burn. She said this wouldn’t be like a normal curiosity shop, so we’d better be prepared.”

  “Your grandmother is very wise. Be sure you continue to listen to her.”

  “You hear that? Even the princess says you should listen to Grandma Sophie,” Zira said.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Raylynn rolled her eyes at her mother. “I know that.” She hastily returned to Vi with a collection of items retrieved from the satchel at the older woman’s side. “Here, I brought these.”

  Vi scanned what a five-year-old girl had determined was precious enough to burn for a sacred purpose. She held a clump of cotton, two dried leaves, and a bottle containing a shot of amber colored liquid.

  “Are they good enough?”

  “They’re wonderful,” Vi assured. “I’m going to hold out my hands and make a fire; you drop them in one by one, all right?” Raylynn nodded, an adorable intensity overtaking her. “Here we go.”

  Vi rested her elbows on her knees, sitting cross legged. She leaned forward, made a bowl out of her hands, and allowed her spark to fill the empty space. Fire ignited, eagerly filling her cupped palms. It burned brightly, shining off Raylynn’s delighted expression.

  One by one, the girl dropped each item into the flames, almost reverently. After uncorking the bottle and pouring the liquid over the fire, her hands clutched the dagger that was attached to the small belt on her hips. Three items to burn, one to hold. Vi took a breath, readying an illusion with narro, but as her eyes caught the flame, the genuine sensation of future sight overtook her.

  The world blotted out, blurring into white, and Vi found herself standing a mere stone’s throw from the castle her body was in.

  Fiera and Tiberus stood together at the center of a crowd, hands joined with a red ribbon wrapped loosely around them. Zira stepped toward them, drawing the crystal weapon she wore on her hip. A Crone of the sun spoke, though Vi couldn’t hear the words. Even if she could, her focus remained on the glimmering Sword of Jadar.
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br />   Zira lowered the sword with purpose, resting the flat of the blade over top their joined hands. Flames sparked, harmlessly singeing the ribbon to ash. Tiberus beamed and Fiera returned the smile. Zira lifted the sword once more and as she held it aloft—

  A blade gouged through the soft flesh of her neck. Blood ran down the ceremonial armor Zira wore in a river that raced to pool at her feet. The phantom sounds of gurgling, of Zira’s knees hitting the ground hard as the blade was withdrawn, filled Vi’s deaf ears.

  She watched with disturbing detachment as a man she didn’t recognize grabbed for the weapon. Chaos collapsed in on the couple. The last thing Vi saw was Tiberus pulling Fiera close to him, panic in his eyes.

  Vi blinked, suddenly seeing the flame in her open palms again. Straightening, she let go of the spark and looked out the windows along one wall to avert the worry in her eyes.

  “What did you see?” Raylynn asked eagerly.

  “Give the princess a moment, her eyes haven’t even stopped glowing.” Zira hushed her daughter sternly.

  “I saw…” Vi started softly, but lost all train of thought. That certainly hadn’t been how Vi expected this to go. Her future sight wasn’t a trained skill like it was for the purveyors of curiosities. Her future sight only happened at places where fate changed. Would the Cathedral of the Sun become an Apex at Fiera’s wedding?

  Her eyes drifted from Zira to Raylynn.

  She’d heard stories of Raylynn Westwind, the only female member of Prince Baldair’s illustrious Golden Guard. She’d joined shortly before the young prince’s untimely death. The stories Vi had heard were striking—the sort that stuck with a girl first learning to hold a sword.

  “Your life, Raylynn,” Vi finally began with confidence, “will follow your mother’s in service. But where your mother follows a crown of silver, the one you serve will be a crown of gold, like the hair of your head.”

  And the hair of Prince Baldair’s head. Perhaps Raylynn could prevent Baldair from meeting his young death if she were destined to be his guard. If she grew up to become even half the swordswoman her mother was, it could be enough to change his fate. Memories of her father talking with such longing about his brother, a broken relationship he could never repair, flooded and propelled her.