by Kova, Elise
Vi swallowed the lump in her throat and took a slow breath. She wanted to take him into her arms. She wanted him to kiss her until she knew or wanted nothing else.
But she couldn’t. Not until he knew everything she had done and still wanted to kiss her after.
“You were right, I wanted to save Fiera. I still do. I want to save her, Zira, everyone else I can, and this world. When I saw the vision of my brother… I knew I had to be bolder. If I was to make this the last time for all of us, I had to do something I’d never done before. And I knew you would say no. So I didn’t ask…” Vi proceeded to tell him of the past few days. She told him of the long, dull nights watching Twintle’s warehouse. She told him of the Knights seeing her, of her fleeing, and giving Zira the sword.
When she finished, Taavin merely continued to stare at her, holding onto her hands tighter than she had clutched the Sword of Jadar before giving it to Zira. But Vi couldn’t tell if it was in anger, worry, compassion, or some likely mix of all three.
“Tell me I haven’t done the wrong thing,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“You have never needed my assurance before.” He didn’t say the words in such a way that would lead her to believe he meant to cause pain. Yet the lack of immediate support cut her deeply all the same.
“But I want it now.” Vi took a quivering breath. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, perhaps it was all the events that had transpired adding up to a tally that was too high. Or perhaps it was his eyes that were making her come undone. “You’re correct—I’ll continue to do what I feel is right. I will take council, but ultimately make my own decisions. I will not feel regret or guilt for making the best decision I could at any given moment, given all the information available to me but—”
Her throat was thick and gummy, and she choked on her next words. “But…” Vi continued, or she might not have continued at all. “I want someone to say that what I’m doing is all right. Because in this moment I am so tired and unsure. In this moment, Taavin, I do not feel strong and I am laying myself bare before you asking—begging—for you to lend me some strength before morning comes and I have to face the world alone once more.”
His thumbs smoothed over the backs of her hands in a motion Vi couldn’t be certain was entirely conscious. Taavin listened intently and was silent when she finished. Vi braced herself for his reaction and readied herself to send him away before he could turn his back on her.
“Vi Solaris,” he murmured softly. Nothing had ever sounded more delightful than her name gliding across his tongue. A name that she hadn’t heard in so long, it made her ache. “You have done nothing wrong. The burden on you is one that no one can understand, not even I. And you handle it with all the grace of your forefathers. You do your parents proud.”
She hung her head as her face twisted in pain. Somehow, he’d known exactly what she’d needed to hear. Every last holdout of her strength vanished and she leaned forward.
Her face buried into his shoulder; his arms wrapped around her. Vi dug her fingers into him, grabbing at the tunic he wore, trying to cross through the barrier that coated his skin like oil that she couldn’t wash away.
“I wish you were here,” she whispered.
“I am here.”
“I wish you were real,” Vi corrected, pulling away.
Taavin hooked her chin, his thumb pulling lightly on her lower lip. Through lowered lashes he murmured, “Let me show you how real I am.”
He pulled at her and she leaned forward. With a soft exhale, his lips brushed hers. She trembled at the barely-there touch. Slowly, he returned his mouth to hers in a toe-curling, tender kiss.
Vi’s hand balled into a fist. She wanted to yank him closer. She wanted him to kiss her until her head spun and she was breathless. Yet she couldn’t move. She was putty under his shifting hands.
One hand caressed her cheek. His fingertips ran along the edge of her ear—as though he was as fascinated with their differences as she was. His other hand ran up her side, boldly tracing the outline of her breast, but not lingering. It joined the other and he held both sides of her face, kissing her more firmly now.
She leaned back. It was an invitation, one he accepted. Taavin crawled onto the bed and on top of her.
“Say my name again,” Vi whispered as their lips parted briefly.
“Vi Solaris,” he obliged, husky and deep.
“Tell me you love me,” she demanded.
“I love you. I have only ever loved you. I will only ever love you.”
Vi pulled him down onto her. She caressed his back and savored what warmth and weight she could feel. Taavin kissed the soft flesh of her neck, a feather-light trail that ran up behind her ear and back down to her collarbone.
“I can’t feel you like I once did,” she confessed dejectedly. “Now the sword is gone, and I fear I never will again.”
He pulled away, propping himself to hover over her. Vi trailed her fingers down his face and chest. She didn’t know how much was forced imagination spiced by longing, and how much was truly tactile sensation.
“It’s not the same,” he admitted, and the admission hurt more than she expected.
“But your words sound as they always have.” Vi shifted away, inviting him instead to lie next to her. The space between them made her ache instantly, but even when he curled around her, that distance didn’t truly vanish.
She needed him in a way she’d never needed anyone.
In a way she didn’t think she’d ever be able to have again. Why hadn’t they made the most of their brief moments together in Risen?
“Tell me,” she murmured, her eyes sinking closed as she rested her head on his chest. “Have we ever made love?”
“What?” His whole body went tense.
“Before, perhaps?” She didn’t have to say, before I killed you. “In one of the other worlds?” There could’ve been another Vi who was bolder than her on Meru. Or a Vi who found his current form to be enough to touch, and kiss, and explore in ways she couldn’t bring herself to no matter how much her body burned with want for him. The feeling of him not really being with her was too great a barrier to cross. “Did we embrace as true lovers?”
Vi tilted her head up when he didn’t immediately respond. Taavin looked at her with those same lusty eyes. He was seeing something that told her the answer before his lips did.
“Yes.”
“Tell me of it?” she breathed. “Tell me how I felt. Tell me how we moved. How you touched me. I want to hear it all.” If she couldn’t experience it, she would live vicariously through another version of herself.
“Are you certain?” He shifted uncomfortably.
“If you’re willing.”
“Of course I am. Those are the sweetest memories I have,” he murmured, pressing a firm kiss against her mouth to punctuate the sentiment. “The first time was on Meru, in Risen…”
Taavin spoke unhurriedly, and Vi hung on his every sensual word. Each turn of phrase delighted her. Phantom memories ignited within her as though her body remembered what her mind could not. She felt herself burning from the inside out with a fire she’d never known before.
A fire that felt like it could light the whole world.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Vi didn’t get any sleep that night. Come morning, her clothes were rumpled and her skin was flushed from the fire he’d set in her. For the first time, she felt as though she’d lived a hundred lives with him through his endless stories.
And it wasn’t enough.
It wouldn’t be enough until she could taste him like those other Vis had.
Vi stared at the window. She hadn’t shuttered it the night before, but the paper screens were slid closed. The morning’s first light was drawing a slow line across the floor and when it hit the bed, Vi knew her exhausting night would officially transition into an exhausting day.
“You never slept,” Taavin mumbled from behind her, kissing her neck tenderly. His fingers traced lazy circles
around her stomach, pushing up her shirt farther with every pass. It was a game he seemed to be playing—how far he could undress her before he put her clothes back into place.
It was a line they hadn’t dared cross all night. If they hadn’t crossed it last night… they never would. Not as long as he remained a specter.
“I didn’t.”
“You should’ve.”
“If I slept, you would’ve disappeared.”
He sighed softly. Vi twisted in his arms and Taavin placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, mumbling, “You have to rest.”
“I will tonight, I promise.” Her body wouldn’t give her a choice. “I wanted to see one morning with you.”
“We don’t get such luxuries.” He smiled sadly.
“I will find a way for us to have them.”
“All right, my princess.” Taavin let out a chuckle that was part laughter, part scoff, and all disbelief.
“You don’t think I can?”
He hummed, a relaxed smirk draped on his face. She wanted to kiss it off. How dare he look so frustratingly handsome first thing in the morning.
“I will pull you into this world if for no other reason than to force you to have morning breath and bags under your eyes and bed head with me,” Vi threatened.
“I would give anything in the world for that. Anything to be a normal man, and for you to be a normal woman. But that is not our destiny.”
“I’m writing destiny now.” She wanted the statement to sound strong and full of conviction. But her voice was tiny and wavering. The more she thought about her task, the more impossible it seemed. Especially now with the sword out of reach. What had she been thinking, sending it away? “And I will find a way to bring you back into this world.”
His shining green eyes consumed her focus. Vi was only vaguely aware of his hand lightly running up and down her spine. Taavin took a deep breath and Vi readied herself to combat his obviously forthcoming objection. But instead he kissed her one last, long time.
“You should go,” he said.
“I should.”
“Do you need me to vanish to make it easier for you?”
Vi laughed lightly and pulled herself from his arms. Their parting hurt, like what she imagined a plant to feel when it was ripped from its roots. “I will summon you again.”
“Please do.”
At long last, she relaxed the spinning glyph around her wrist and watched him vanish into the air. The parting was familiar, but it hurt more now than she remembered. In a few short weeks on Meru she’d somehow managed to grow accustomed to his physical presence. She’d taken it for granted.
Now, she would do anything to have him back.
* * *
Fiera took breakfasts most often in her chambers now, so Vi headed there. The halls smelled of eggs and freshly cooked rice, but the only servants in sight were those who attended to bathing and dressing.
“Good morning,” Vi greeted the handmaid outside Fiera’s room. She and the two guards surrounding her all nodded. “I have a matter of grave importance to speak with our Empress about.”
“Please wait just a moment.” The handmaid held up her hands. “Cleric Joan is in with her now—she should be finished shortly.”
No sooner had the girl stopped speaking than the heavy wooden door opened and a black-eyed woman emerged. She was as gnarled as a Crone and her skin had long been leathered by the sun. Her hair had turned to white, but she looked at the world sharply. There was still strength in her steps.
“Tell the kitchens I would like her to have plain rice this morning, one sliced prickly pear, and some more of the barley tea from the East,” Joan instructed the handmaid.
“I think Jake said they have run out of the tea.”
“Then tell him to pull some out of his arse. Or use these supreme culinary skills he keeps bragging about to make something similar. These are not my demands—they come directly from our Empress.”
“Yes ma’am!” The handmaid sprinted down the hall. Joan’s attention landed on Vi.
“Fiarum Evantes, I’m—”
“No time for or interest in formalities, I know who you are. This whole city knows who you are,” Joan said dully. “You have a severe look on your face. Whatever it is you have to say, say it well and don’t upset her much. This pregnancy is becoming hard on her and if she keeps her stress and work up, she’s headed for a difficult labor.”
“Understood.” The cleric spoke like an officer, so Vi responded like a soldier.
Without another word, Joan left and Vi allowed herself into the royal chambers.
An entry hall opened up to a large sitting area connected to a wide balcony that stretched the length of the quarters. The Emperor and Empress sat out on the balcony, a table between them. Tiberus had draped his coat over the back of his chair. Fiera wore her hair long and unbound, her simple dress cut generously to accommodate her protruding stomach.
“Is breakfast already—” Fiera turned, her expression dimming when she realized food hadn’t arrived, then brightening again when she realized who had arrived instead. “Yullia, what a delightful surprise!”
“It is impossible for newlyweds to have a morning alone,” Tiberus grumbled, just barely loud enough for Vi to hear.
“Forgive my interruption, your highnesses. Were this not a matter of supreme importance, I wouldn’t have come so early.”
“Matters of supreme importance seem to follow you,” Tiberus said with a glance at her. He had a stack of papers Vi vaguely recognized. They were nearly identical in format to the trade and grain reports her father used to study.
“Your highness, they follow you—I am merely graced by proximity.”
“Your flattery is improving.” He didn’t even look up this time.
“Well, I do seek your indulgence.”
“In what?” Fiera asked.
“I would like a word alone with you,” Vi responded directly to her.
Fiera looked between Vi and Tiberus. “Anything you say to me, you can say to my husband.”
“Very well.” Vi couldn’t blame her. It was a stretch to separate them at this point. She knew Fiera’s primary goal was to keep peace in her growing family for the sake of all of Mhashan. Even with the Emperor’s heir growing within her, she still acted cautiously. “It’s regarding Zira,” Vi started delicately, remembering what Joan had just told her. “I’ll say foremost, she’s well.”
“All right,” Fiera said slowly, understandably confused. She turned to Tiberus but the man shrugged slightly to indicate he had no idea either. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
“Because this sunset we will go to the Cathedral of the Mother to mourn her death.”
“I don’t follow.”
“The Knights of Jadar are getting bolder, your majesties. Just last night there was an attack down at the docks resulting in Lord Twintle’s warehouse being burned.” Vi resisted a satisfied smirk.
“Traitorous snakes, I told you to cut them off at the head.” His words lacked any real bite. Clearly, this was an argument they’d had too many times for scathing words surrounding the Knights to still cut deeply.
“I told you there were good men among them—men who now fight for Solaris.” Fiera gave a sideways look at Tiberus and then turned her attention back to Vi. “So I assume Zira is off taking some kind of action against them?”
“Yes, I’ve acquired intelligence about their network in the Waste. We hope to cut off their support and force them to the surface. But for our plans to work, they must believe Zira is dead—she must be an unknown factor in play.”
“I see.” Fiera stroked the bulge of her stomach in thought.
Tiberus glanced up at her and Vi was caught in his ocean blue eyes for a long second. In them, she saw the eyes of her brother.
“You really are a dangerously clever one.”
“And I use my cleverness to support Solaris.” Vi could read between the lines. She knew what he was really saying.
“Let�
�s hope so, and that Zira is not the latest convert of the Knights. Otherwise we’ll have to kill her, too.”
“Zira would never betray me,” Fiera insisted to Tiberius. Then, she said to Vi, “I will do what must be done this sunset to mourn her. But regarding a body to burn—”
“Fear not, I’ve already taken care of the logistics,” Vi interrupted.
“I’d better not ask for specifics, then, and merely thank you for your continued service to the crown.”
Vi gave a low bow. “The honor is mine,” she said and dismissed herself.
On the way out, when he no doubt thought she was out of ear-shot, Vi heard Tiberus say, “You should keep an eye on that one. Someone who is always at the center of trouble is likely the cause.”
More than you know, Vi wanted to say. The world was a puppet, and it was her job to pull the strings.
She headed right for Deneya’s office, checking her watch along the way. It was still two hours before the council was scheduled to meet. That should be enough time.
“Deneya,” Vi said as she entered. Thankfully, the woman was behind her desk. Vi had learned that Deneya gave herself extra time in the mornings to prepare for meetings on account of how the numbers and letters “danced” across the page.
“Whenever you show up with that face, it’s rarely good.”
“I’ve never claimed to be a good omen.”
“Then you’re living up to expectations.” Deneya returned her quill to its inkwell and leaned back in her chair. “What do you need me for this time?”
“I need you to adjust the docket for today’s meeting.”
“That’s usually Ophain’s responsibility. Take it up with him.”
“He likes you better,” Vi countered.
“I can’t argue that.” Deneya stood. “What am I having him adjust?”
“The head of the city guard will need to discuss the Knights of Jadar.”
“Why?” Deneya asked cautiously.
“To talk about last night’s arson of course. Poor Lord Twintle.”
“What did you do?” Deneya almost sounded delighted. “And how dare you for not taking me with you to do it. I would’ve loved to juth starys the man seven ways to the next world.”
