by Elise Kova
“But I know the South won’t feel like home either, if I’m honest. I think it’ll be the closest thing—because my real family is there. I’ll finally live with them, come to truly know them, for better or worse. And if family isn’t home, then what is?”
“You’re right, family is important,” Jayme said. There was something almost wistful in her tone. “Perhaps the only thing that’s important.”
“Agreed.” Vi stood, ending the conversation. She didn’t want to talk about their families, or philosophical homes, or worry about what it would be like when she returned south. She wanted to try to enjoy what little time she had left. Her life was already changing faster than she could fully comprehend. There was work to be done tomorrow, but today she could just enjoy herself. “Want to dance, or mill about the market stalls? Or are you still too sensitive after your last cheese failure?”
Jayme chuckled and took a long drink of her cider, downing what remained in one gulp. “I think my constitution has improved enough. Walking a bit sounds lovely.”
“Are you coming, Andru?” Vi asked.
“I think I’ll stay here, just watch. I like being out of the crowds.”
“Sure thing. We’ll get you another cider before we come back.” Vi gave him a smile, one that was returned, before walking away.
Just as they started down the wide steps toward the ground together, a scream shattered the festivities.
Chapter Thirty
A man ran into the square, crazed and wailing. Behind him raced three others in the same terrifying, long-beaked masks Vi had seen Darrus wearing the night she’d escaped to the ruins.
The diseased man’s head drifted back and forth, mouth slightly parted. It had that same sickening sway that the sick noru had possessed, as though the tendons in his neck had gone slack and the pain of the awkward movement wasn’t even registering to him. His eyes were glossed over, completely white, shining red lines pulsing outward from their centers. His skin around the angry veins of magic had turned hard and glossy, almost like a pale stone was protruding from his dark flesh. The outline of the diseased tissue was straining against the healthy skin, cracking and opening into sores that oozed globs of white.
“No one touch him!” one of the men wearing the plague masks commanded.
The oozing man looked around, ready to dart again. Sehra stepped forward from the crowd. With a raise of her hand, four walls of stone bars imprisoned him. He immediately darted against them, straining madly against his prison.
Vi swallowed hard, trying to push back the first vision of her father and the man in the cage. For all she wanted to look away, this was not another vision. This was not her father in a distant land before a foreign queen. This was not an end of days, dangerously removed from her here and now.
These were the people she was responsible for and the disease that was killing them slowly.
“There’s another round of outbreaks flaring up!” one of the women lifted her plague mask to shout. “Should anyone feel ill or notice any strange sores, please immediately report to the clerics at the infirmary.”
“I would like to recommend everyone return home and regroup with their families,” Sehra announced. “In the interest of public health, we will end the festivities early. Please listen to all instructions from the clerics and thoroughly check yourselves for any signs of the disease.”
There was murmuring and for a brief moment it sounded as if there was going to be dissent at the idea. Then, a scream. All eyes jerked in the direction of a woman.
She held out her arm, scratching at something. Scratching to the point of drawing blood. From where Vi stood, she could only see healthy skin. But perhaps there was something there. Or perhaps panic made people mad.
“I think I have it. I think I have it!” she wailed.
Then, someone else. “Wait, is this one? My skin feels tough here… I think I have it too!”
The man in the stone cage gave a guttural growl, gripping the bars and snarling like an animal. Vi knew what he was going to do next, but that didn’t stop the horror at seeing him pull his head back and smash it into the stone. It was the same as the noru, the same as the sick man the queen of the Crescent Continent had shown her father.
“We should go back to the fortress.” Jayme was close now, a hand on the hilt of her sword. Vi realized that chaos was beginning to break out.
“You’re right, let’s get Ellene.” They began trying to weave through the crowd as quickly as possible.
“Please stay calm and return to your homes,” Sehra was shouting. “The clerics can see you all individually there.”
“You!” A man Vi had never seen before darted in front of her. His face was twisted in rage, spittle flying from his lips. “Crown Princess Solaris,” he sneered.
“I would advise you to step back, sir,” Jayme cautioned, taking a small step forward. She didn’t have her sword drawn, but her grip had certainly tightened on its hilt.
“What are you doing?” The man ignored Jayme and kept his eyes on Vi. His shouting was starting to gain attention.
“I—”
He wasn’t interested in whatever answer she could come up with. “You came, destroyed our home, dragged us through the mud, then told us our lives would be better. But all the Empire has brought Shaldan is disease and heartbreak.”
Vi opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. What should she say? What could she say? She certainly hadn’t done anything to try to stop the White Death or its spread. Even if she had wanted to, she wasn’t Darrus. She couldn’t go and work in the infirmary… she had a role to fill as the heir.
And for the very first time, Vi wondered if that was the role she should fill. If her mission was to do what was best for her Empire, then she should let nothing, not even her throne, get in the way of that… right? It was an answer she didn’t have time to come up with as the brief moment of introspection was quickly interrupted.
“What will Solaris do?” he demanded again. “All I see are our clerics, our blood on the ground, our people in danger. Is Solaris just leaving us to die?”
“Is help coming from the Empire? Or are we alone?” Another woman stepped forward, emboldened by the man’s tirade.
“The White Death is affecting everyone—the South, East, West, and North. It is a plague on us all. My father has already left for the Crescent Continent,” Vi said quickly. She cleared her throat, trying to dictate her words as her tutors had instructed, putting on her best Empress voice. “He has gone in search of a cure that—”
“They say the disease itself comes from the Crescent Continent,” another woman spoke. Vi turned, surprised to see the old Western woman she had purchased spices from. Her beady black eyes bored into Vi’s soul. “He will meet his demise on that foreign land. If he has gone into those pirate-infested waters, into the territory of Adela, she will kill him as she killed his grandfather before him. The Emperor Solaris is already dead.”
“Hold your tongue,” Vi whispered. There was a dangerous note to her voice, one she had never heard herself make before. “Careful, lest someone hear your words for the treason they are.”
“We ask questions and it’s treason?” The first man balked, talking even louder. “This is how Solaris treats us!”
“No, that’s not what I—” Vi tried to say quickly but was interrupted.
“That’s enough,” Sehra said quietly. She didn’t shout, didn’t need to. “Focus on the wounds yet bleeding before you go looking for old scars to tear open.” She narrowed her eyes at the man. Vi watched how, with a look, Sehra suddenly made herself seem twice her size and the man half of his.
“Chieftain, I meant no disrespect.” He lowered his eyes, shoulders curling forward slightly.
“Is that so? Certainly an odd way of showing it. You disrespect me, as I told everyone to leave, and you disrespect my honored guest, the Crown Princess.” Sehra’s eyes swung to them as the others scattered. Vi looked for the Western woman, but she was alre
ady gone. All of the transgressions against her family tonight would have to be forgiven, it seemed. Forgiven, maybe, but not forgotten. “I told everyone to leave, and that includes you three.”
Vi was suddenly aware Andru had materialized at her left. For all his awkwardness, he was proving himself a true friend time and again.
“We’re gathering Ellene and then going back to the fortress,” Jayme reported stiffly.
Sehra gave a small nod of approval. “No more distractions.”
This time, no one stopped them getting to Ellene. She was engaged in a heated conversation with Darrus, arms flailing, voice strained to a barely audible pitch.
“Ellene, we need go back.” Vi grabbed the girl’s elbow.
Ellene jerked away without even looking at them, focusing on the man she’d been dancing with all night. “Not without Darrus, he’s not talking sense.”
“I have to go to the infirmary, Elle,” he said gently.
“This is getting serious!” Ellene grabbed his hands, tears welling in her eyes. Vi resisted the urge to correct her that it had been serious for some time. Darrus was the only one among them who had really done something. “Come, stay in the fortress—it’s safer there, with us. Let other clerics do the work, they don’t need you. You’re not even fully trained yet.”
“Ellene, I can’t.” Darrus pulled her in tightly. “I have to help our people. New clerics just arrived with medicine from the West today. They have more insights. We’re going to beat this.”
Vi found herself admiring Darrus once more. He was composed and certain of himself when she could barely fend off the panicked ravings of one of her subjects. He continued to fearlessly step up, putting his life in danger, for the sake of his people—her people, her Empire.
What kind of a leader did that make her if she needed others to stand in for her at every turn? What could she be doing for her people?
Finding the apexes of fate was a way to stop this. If they held the knowledge of how to stop Raspian, it would stop the White Death, too.
“Don’t… Please, don’t…” Ellene gripped at him so tightly that Vi was certain she left bruises. He lightly kissed the top of her head through the young woman’s spiral curls, then looked to Jayme and Vi.
“Take her and keep her safe. Do not let her come after me.”
Vi gave a short nod, overlooked the fact that a commoner had technically just issued an order to her—sometimes etiquette was best ignored, particularly in the face of what was very obviously young love—and pulled Ellene into her arms. “We have to go now.”
“No, don’t take me!” Ellene twisted. “I’m going with him.”
“Your mother asked us to take you.” Jayme got a grip on Ellene’s other arm.
“Ellene.” Za’s voice was a sharp and searing blade to the heart of her daughter’s contention. “Back to the fortress. Now.”
Ellene slumped against Vi and let herself be shepherded away.
More and more people were beginning to panic. There was wailing, crying, shouting, and accusations thrown their way whenever someone bold enough got a good look at Vi walking in their midst.
The four of them navigated through it, hastening back to the fortress to wait out what already truly felt like the longest night of the year.
Chapter Thirty-One
They sat around a small table in the back corner of one of the kitchens. Between each of their hands was a mug of warm tea; a plate of food steamed in front of them, but none of them could muster the will to eat.
After the events of the day, Vi certainly wasn’t hungry.
“He’s going to die,” Ellene mumbled grimly.
“You don’t know that.”
“He’s going to get sick with the White Death, and die.”
“No one knows how it’s transferred,” Jayme started.
“Part of what makes it so terrifying,” Andru interjected under his breath.
Vi was silent. The old Western woman was still in her mind. She’d said the White Death came from the Crescent Continent. If Vi’s theories on the crystal caverns were true, then the plague’s origins were far more homegrown.
But the solution might lie across the sea, nonetheless… with a man she knew through strands of light. What would she ask Taavin first? She worked to sift through the chaos of the day to find an answer.
“I saw houses in the capital, families who lived together in one room—five people—poor folk who couldn’t afford any clerical help.” Jayme continued to try to cheer up Ellene. “Mostly left to fend for themselves… One fell ill, but the other four survived. I’m no cleric myself, but I don’t think it’s transferred by mere proximity, like autumn fever.”
“He’ll catch it. If anyone will catch it from proximity, it’ll be him.” Ellene wasn’t hearing them. She wasn’t seeing them either. She stared off at nothing, wallowing in her own doubt.
Vi wrested herself from her thoughts and rested a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Listen to Jayme.”
“He’s going to be taken by the illness just like my grandmother!” Ellene pushed her hand aside and crumpled into tears. Jayme and Vi shared a look.
The death of the last chieftain had been particularly hard for the North. A people who were still relatively new to the Empire, still stinging from the loss of their sovereignty, had their leader called to a foreign land to see if her rare magic could assist in finding a cure for the White Death. Sehra’s mother, Ellene’s grandmother, had never returned from that journey. She’d succumbed to the disease and her body was burned in Norin, her last rites given by foreign people in a foreign land.
“Darrus is strong,” Vi attempted. “He’s much younger than—”
“My grandmother was not that old.” Ellene’s head jerked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “And she was one of the strongest chieftains to ever live.”
“You poor lot, stuck in here on the night of solstice.” Renna made a clicking noise with her tongue as she shook her head in disapproval. “You should’ve been dancing the dusk away, filling your stomachs with good food, filling your souls with the final rites of the evening, and then drifting to sleep as the wonders of the day filled your mind.”
“Unfortunately a plague doesn’t wait for festivities to be over.” Vi sighed, still rubbing Ellene’s back with an open palm as the girl sniffed softly.
“It does not. But at the very least, would you three like a story? Seems a shame to head to bed without even hearing one of the old tales around a fire. What good is the solstice if you don’t?”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Jayme was the first to seize the opportunity.
Vi recognized as well what Renna was trying to do for Ellene. The kitchens were large, but Renna had been in ear-shot since the moment they’d sat down. Moreover, there wasn’t much activity at this time of night, so there hadn’t been much noise to drown out their words.
“I’d like that as well. I don’t think you’ve told us stories since we were kids, sneaking in for whatever cookies or cakes you had baked for the day.”
“Well, speaking of…” Renna glanced over her shoulder. “We made a whole batch of candied nut rolls for the festival that no one has touched thanks to all this madness. If you finish your dinners, I could cut you each a hefty slice and I’ll tell you one story before bed.” She looked right to Ellene. “Would you like that?”
Ellene gave a small sniff and, for a brief second, Vi was afraid she would protest that she was far too old for sweets and fireside stories before bed. They all were. But for one night, retreating into the comforting ignorance of childhood wouldn’t harm any of them.
“I think I would,” Ellene said finally.
“Then finish your meals and I’ll have warm sticky sweets ready when you’re done.”
“Sticky sweets for finishing a meal; I feel like a child again,” Andru murmured.
“There are worse feelings,” Vi said quickly, with a small nod toward Ellene. Understanding dawned on Andru’s face, and something like
gratitude. Vi was starting to understand how this shy, awkward man’s mind worked—and how often it missed what seemed like obvious social cues. Renna was just trying to help, and one slice of nut roll would not turn any of them into a toddler again. And, if Vi was honest with herself, her mouth was already watering at the thought.
Renna was good to her word. The wiry woman had a plate waiting for each of them when they arranged themselves around the giant stone hearth of the kitchen. In proper fashion, they each sat on the floor, the woman easing herself into a stool she’d pulled over.
“When was the last time we did this?” Vi asked with a small laugh and nudge to Ellene’s shoulder. “Seven? Ten?”
“It’s been so long I can’t remember.” She stared at her nut roll and inhaled through her nose. “It smells just like I remember, though.”
“Sounds like you had a nice childhood,” Jayme said softly.
Vi resisted the debate that would follow any kind of correction. Her childhood hadn’t been bad… but nice? Nice was living with your family, knowing your sibling, and not growing up as the Empire’s trading chip.
But there were layers to Jayme’s statement, ones Vi may not have considered before Andru revealed her clandestine meeting in the Crossroads. What had her childhood been like? She knew Jayme had become the official courier almost immediately after enlisting. How did a fourteen-year-old manage that? It was something Vi hadn’t really considered, but the older she got, the more she wondered at the logistics that had lined up to make such a prestigious honor of delivering Imperial letters fall on a young girl’s shoulders.
Just how well did she really know her friend?
“What story would you like to hear?” Renna asked.
“I have no preference,” Jayme said, louder, as if to speak over the echo of the words she’d uttered under her breath. “They’ll all be new to me.”
