Sovereign Sacrifice

by Kova, Elise

  “Then I will have guards posted at her door.”

  “Two attempts ago she was involved in a skirmish with the Knights while patrolling the city and was cut down.”

  “Then I will do the patrols,” Vi continued to counter. “Rather than tell me what I can’t do, help me accomplish what I can. Help me find all these avenues to spare her by telling me how she’s died before.”

  “Or she dies at the hands of a thief who gets the jump on her while she’s sleeping along the road during one of her trips, long after you’ve left her side.” Vi narrowed her eyes slightly and balled her hands into fists. Before she could say anything again, Taavin continued. “And if you save Fiera from one death, she’s murdered in equally horrible ways. Or falls victim to an accident no one could prevent.”

  She stared up at him, searching for a lie in his words. But Taavin’s eyes were stony clones of their usual warm selves, cold and unfeeling. The backs of her eyes prickled, though Vi couldn’t quite explain why. She hadn’t felt like crying in months. Why now?

  It wasn’t that she knew Fiera that well. Certainly, she’d come to love the Empress in an unexpected but not entirely surprising way. And the woman did have her undeniable aura that made people willing to follow her to the ends of the earth.

  But this feeling was more than that.

  This was her stomach flipping upside down until her throat knotted. It was her eyes burning and her breaths becoming shallow. This feeling was worse than staring down Adela, or Ulvarth… perhaps even worse than burning Taavin alive.

  “Why?” Vi whispered. “Why would Yargen do this?”

  “There is the greater cycle of fate, the one we are trapped within and trying to free ourselves from. But there are also smaller turns, turns within families. Cruel fathers who raise cruel men who become cruel fathers themselves. There are some things we cannot escape.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I am here to change it—to break those cycles. And I refuse to believe that a goddess who supposedly wishes to look after all her people would trap them in destructive cycles they can’t free themselves from. If anything, that is the work of Raspian, and I will give it no credence.”

  “I know your pain,” Taavin said firmly and with a slightly pleading edge. “I understand your hurt. Watching the ones you care for suffer, over and over again. Being helpless to stop or change it, no matter how hard you try. Seeing someone you love more than anyone or anything else in this accursed world trapped in a loop for nearly a thousand years.

  “Feeling every blow, pain, and betrayal as though it’s your own. Each one worse than the last. Yearning not to feel… but you—I can’t avoid feeling, because the moment I lay eyes on you, I feel everything.”

  His hands were on her face. Vi blinked up at him, startled. She hardly remembered him crossing to her. His words were more entrancing than any of Yargen’s. The way he said them was like a prayer, or a Lightspinner’s chant.

  Taavin’s thumbs smoothed over the curve of her cheeks and he held her there. In his eyes she saw all the wonder and pain the universe had ever held. It was enough to make her knees weak and heart ache.

  “If you know this pain… then help me end it,” Vi whispered. “Help me break not just one cycle, but all of them. Then we’ll all be free.”

  He smiled sadly and his eyes drifted from her lips to her forehead, where he placed a tender kiss. Vi pressed her eyes closed, a deep ache reverberating through her. She needed him. Her hands grabbed the back of his arms above his elbows.

  “I’m trying to help you,” he murmured. “But you have to let me. You have to listen, and be careful. The best chance we have to end this is caution. But if we don’t end it, we have to see you reborn. Be careful until then.”

  Taavin pulled away and when Vi opened her eyes again, he was gone. She spent a moment focusing on every long breath of air, but each one felt thinner than the last. When he left, he took all the oxygen with him.

  Vi grabbed the sword as though she could somehow strike down the barriers that stood in their way. But all she did was sheathe and hide it. The currents of emotion she was wading through were her own. There was still work to be done—work that wouldn’t end just because she wanted and needed more time to sort through her own experiences.

  The castle was alive now, even at night. Servants tended to duties they didn’t have a chance to get to during the day. Vi donned the skin of one random helper she’d seen most afternoons in Fiera’s chambers as she made her way to Deneya’s office.

  Two raps on the door and it opened promptly. Deneya looked her up and down.

  “I heard you needed help sorting your bookcases,” Vi said, keeping the masquerade even though no one was around.

  “My bookcases are fine. Though I wouldn’t mind help with laundry. Folding is a pain.” Deneya gave a smirk, one Vi returned. “Come on in.” Vi entered and released her illusion. “It’s just durroe, right?”

  “Yes, though it helps if you pick a real person. It’s harder to fabricate someone who doesn’t exist with enough detail to keep the illusion stable.”

  “You speak from experience?” Deneya walked over to her desk, where there were two glasses set out alongside a half-empty decanter. Deneya had started without her.

  “I do.” Vi adjusted the sword at her belt to sit in one of the chairs facing Deneya’s desk. “Though, I admit, it’s been a while since I first began using durroe this way. Maybe I would have more luck with a fabricated person now.”

  “It seems to be working well, no point in pushing to change it.” Deneya glugged a heavy pour from the decanter into each glass.

  “That’s precisely the reason to change it.” Vi wore a grin as she accepted her glass. “Given the reactions I’ve received from the people of Meru, it’s been far too long since someone re-imagined how the goddess’s words can be used.”

  “Some would say re-imagining the words of the goddess is blasphemy.”

  “Beware of the ones who do—they’re the real enemies of Meru. And, as the Champion of Yargen, I say it’s fine.”

  Deneya chuckled and held out her glass. “I like you, Yullia. Cheers to saving a royal family today.”

  “Cheers.” Vi tipped the edge of her glass against Deneya’s and took a long sip of the dark amber liquid in her glass. It tasted of spiced caramel, surprisingly sweet. “And it’s Vi. My name is Vi.”

  “Vi,” Deneya repeated thoughtfully. “Why Yullia, then?”

  “It didn’t feel right to use my name when I came here, for a whole host of reasons.” She watched the liquid swirl in the glass as she slowly rotated it.

  “Then thank you for telling me.”

  “I know your true name. It’s only fair,” Vi answered offhandedly. As though she hadn’t just allowed Deneya past a barrier.

  Deneya took another sip of her drink and Vi did the same. She vaguely remembered the drink Erion Le’Dan had given her all those months ago. Was this the same? Or different? Better or worse?

  She fought to dredge up the memories—the only proof that that time had existed at all. Vi set her glass down on the armrest of the chair.

  “You said you saw who was the first to attack?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Western, tall, bushy mustache… you couldn’t see it in what he was wearing, but he has a scar on his forearm, too.”

  “You know him then?” Vi asked hopefully.

  “Know is a strong word. I’ve seen him before.” Deneya set her glass down and crossed her arms.

  “Where?” Vi settled back into her chair, quickly adding, “No, let me guess. Heading in and out of Twintle’s estate?”

  “Half right. One of Twintle’s warehouses down at the docks.”

  “Idiots,” Vi half sighed, half mumbled. “They’re no longer meeting at the estate?”

  “I’m not certain. They’ve become much better at hiding their tracks,” Deneya said with a note of frustration.

  “Either way,
Twintle is their ringleader.”

  “It seems so, and that brings me to the other thing I had to tell you.” Deneya’s eyes sparked with knowing. “Twintle contacted Zira, offering to resume some of his old Knightly duties and assist overseeing security at the last minute. Said it would be his honor.”

  Vi was sure she hadn’t heard of it because Twintle no doubt hated her after she suggested the soldiers be released in stages, resulting in them being imprisoned longer. He would’ve done everything possible to keep her out of the decision-making process. “Slimy snake,” she mumbled.

  “He’s definitely the one leading. He has the means and the coin,” Deneya said with a note of agreement. “But I think Luke is helping organize. He’s a convenient mobilizer so Twintle can continue to fulfill his duties and keep suspicion off his family.”

  “I see.” Vi swirled the drink in her glass, thinking back to her conversation with Taavin.

  “So, who do we go after? Luke, Twintle, or neither? I doubt Taavin would approve,” Deneya said, not knowing how spot-on she was.

  “No, he wouldn’t.” She took a long sip of her drink, savoring the burn while she thought about what Taavin had said. He’d claimed that, regardless of what she did, there were people she couldn’t save. But that wasn’t about to stop her from trying. She was in uncharted territory now, after all. At the very least, she’d make the lives of those who would harm the family of a future-Vi as miserable as possible. “We’re not going to go after Twintle or Luke.”

  “Who, then?”

  “All of them. Every Knight that would ever swing a sword against Zira or Fiera.” She had saved Zira once. Now, Vi had to keep her alive, and prove to Taavin that boldness was the key to ending this vicious cycle once and for all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Where has Twintle gone, exactly?” Vi asked as she and Deneya walked through the midday streets of Norin toward the port.

  “He has a manor between here and the Crossroads, not too far from the latter. Last I heard he was taking a short leave of absence to return home and spend some time with family before summer is up.”

  Houses in the city, houses in the Waste. The old noble families of Mhashan had more homes than Vi currently had pairs of trousers and seemed to change them with equal frequency.

  “Family, or networking with the old lords and ladies who still harbor ill will toward the new Empress along the way.”

  “My money would be on that.”

  “Mine as well.” Though Vi also entertained the idea of him turning tail, embarrassed by his failure at Fiera’s wedding.

  “Then this is a boring gamble.” Deneya chuckled lightly. Sometimes, like now, Vi deeply appreciated her casual disregard for the weight of the situation surrounding her. Perhaps it was because Deneya didn’t see herself as a part of the Dark Isle, and its trials were mere amusements to her. Or perhaps she’d genuinely been so bored for so long here that even the slightest activity was a genuine delight.

  Either way, it forced Vi to relax some. Her demeanor had Vi working to remove herself in a similar way—look at all that was happening from the outside. It didn’t directly affect or relate to her, not really. She only had one goal and that was to do whatever it took to prevent the Crystal Caverns and weapons from being destroyed while saving as many people as she could in the process.

  Of course, this distance was fabricated and skin deep. At her core, Vi couldn’t deny the simmering hatred she felt for the Knights of Jadar for what they had done and would do to her family—a hatred that only grew by the day.

  “Either way, he won’t be here to deny the search, and no one else in his employ should be able to refuse me.”

  “You’re confident in that?” Vi asked, glancing over at Deneya. The world blurred at the edges of her vision with bright shifting light. She was using durroe for an illusion once more. This time Vi had experimented with basing the masquerade off the face of a real person and the body and clothes of a different real person—a hybrid of real to make something fake. According to Deneya, her work was as flawless as it was the first two times she’d seen it.

  “Look at me. Do I look like a woman who has ever not been confident in her life?”

  “No.” Vi refrained from bringing up Taavin’s mention of her cheating on an exam during their first interaction. She’d looked very uncertain then.

  “Good. You play your part, I’ll play mine. We start with the two warehouses on the left side and work our way to Twintle’s.”

  Vi didn’t quite like the plan. The idea that they would go to other warehouses under the guise of a surprise inspection before arriving at Twintle’s—theoretically giving Twintle’s men time to learn they were coming and hide any evidence of the Knights—still rankled her. But Deneya was confident in the best approach and Vi would give the woman the benefit of the doubt. She’d yet to disappoint her.

  The first warehouse was on the far end of the docks; Vi could smell it long before they arrived. It belonged to a prominent fish trader and Vi resisted the urge to cover her nose as she perused the rows of fish nearly the size of her, laid out for bidding. She was more than ready to depart when Deneya issued them the all-clear.

  The next warehouse belonged to a logger, barging lumber from the North. Vi stared up at the massive chunks of wood, knowing they mere fractions of the sentries she’d grown up in. She wondered how long until this man’s business was shut down due to the Emperor’s encroachment on Shaldan.

  Finally, after spending the better part of the morning in the first two warehouses, they were on to Twintle’s. His was around the middle of the bustling docks, toward the richer side of town. Vi paused, staring out at the ships. Her eyes swung to the far corner, the oldest stretch.

  On all of her maps, those docks had always been there. They were the humble start of the greatest port on the Dark Isle. They had been there… when the scythe left.

  The vision Vi had on Meru was in the forefront of her mind: an Eastern man with hazel eyes, standing at those docks, bestowing a scythe-shaped velvet-wrapped parcel on a ship captain. That was the spot where the scythe had left this land and—

  “Are you all right?” Deneya startled her from her thoughts.

  “Wh—oh, yes.” Vi glanced back to the far end of the port.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing, it’s nothing.” She shook her head. “Just remembering something. Let’s carry on.”

  There were two men posted as guards on either side of the narrow entrance to Twintle’s warehouse.

  “Good afternoon gentlemen,” Deneya said lightly. The two men gave gruff nods, regarding them warily. Deneya leaned over, glancing at the ledger Vi held open. “I see this is… oh right, Lord Twintle’s storehouse. Of course.”

  “What business would you have here, ma’am?” the shorter of the two men asked.

  “You might not know me, but I am Denja, the councilor for commerce.” Deneya held out a hand and Vi slipped a piece of paper into it, just as they had for the first two warehouses. On it was Fiera’s handwriting and both the royal seal of Mhashan, and a much more recent Imperial seal. “Everything should be in order verifying my credentials.”

  “Yes, councilor, how may we assist you?”

  “I am performing inspections on warehouses today at the docks. Standard procedure to make sure all goods have been properly accounted for and the recent Imperial taxes levied against them.”

  The two guards shared a glance. Vi couldn’t tell if they were genuinely surprised or not to see them and it made her shift her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot.

  “We’re afraid the Lord isn’t present at the moment.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Deneya brought her index finger to her jawline. Feigning ignorance was not the woman’s strong suit. “He is traveling right now, isn’t he? But here or not, this is something none of the traders are exempt from. If you could just allow us inside, my assistant will catalog goods and I’ll cross-reference that against taxes paid yesterday.
”

  “Lord Twintle explicitly instructed that we were to allow no one in until his return,” one of the guards said hesitantly.

  “As I said, no one is exempt.” Deneya put her hands on her hips. “Please don’t make me hike all the way back to the castle to get the Imperial guards and do this by force—none of us wants that.”

  The guards had a quick mental conversation that ultimately ended in a shrug from the taller man and an indifferent expression from the shorter.

  “All right,” he said. “But be quick about it. And we’ll need to escort you the whole time.”

  “Very well.”

  With that, they were inside.

  The warehouse was a simple build—little more than a brick box. Windows lined the upper portion of the walls just under the roof, no doubt to let out the rising heat from the Western sun. But they were currently shuttered, which meant the building felt like an oven.

  It was surprisingly empty. Larger crates lined the walls along the outside. Rows of smaller ones that came up to Vi’s waist stretched away from the door for about half of the space. In the other half, they were stacked in mountains. The logic of the two sorting methods was lost on her.

  “While my assistant verifies the goods, could you please show me the most recent ledgers?”

  “Of course.” The shorter man went off to a far corner with Deneya, rummaging through a chest. That left the taller man with Vi.

  She walked down the first row of crates, straining to open a heavy lid. Inside the box, settled on a nest of wood shavings, were some of the largest sapphires Vi had ever seen. Most were rough-cut, but they would still produce several stones of enviable quality in the hands of a skilled jeweler.

  “Jewels,” she murmured. “I thought Twintle was keeping fish and food?”

  “That was only for the siege. His fleet was the smallest and fastest—they could slip past any Imperial vessels. Now he’s sold off most of those wares.” The man paused, narrowing his eyes at her. “I would think you would know that as the assistant to the councilor.”