by Kova, Elise
Clearing her throat, Ellene stepped forward.
“The world was young,” she began, her voice wavering initially before she caught her stride. “Young enough that only the Mother Tree which stands here now, oldest in the land, is the only one who can recall the hours. This land was dark, absent of the sun’s light.
“Then, a star fell.
“The star was caught in the boughs of the Mother Tree. As the branches swayed and shook, the star was jostled, collecting the tree’s life energy on the way down to earth. This energy—part godly, part mortal—became the young Dia when it reached the earth. Her skin was made of the bark of the tree and her hair shone with the stardust she brought with her from the heavens.
“The Mother saw this falling star, and the holy light that radiated in her, and said, ‘Take this axe, my child, and by its blade, carve a new society in my name. Teach its people the ways long forgotten in this land of night. Use the magic within it to guard and guide them.’”
Ellene stepped back, and Sehra stepped forward.
“Dia did as the mother asked,” the Chieftain continued. “She guarded and guided the people to prosperity. And when the end of her life drew near, she returned to the Tree and asked the Mother for one more gift—an heir.
“Yargen told Dia that the power lived in her. So Dia cleaved a seed from the Mother Tree and consumed it. In nine months’ time, she gave birth to an heir that carried on a part of her light.”
Vi’s eyes drifted to Ellene as Sehra spoke. She’d heard the story many times before. But every time, at this part, Vi couldn’t help but wonder as to the exact logistics—a mystery she’d likely never have the answer to.
But she believed it. Because she also had powers supposedly from the Mother, was visited by a man made of light, and was hunted by a red-eyed assassin who worshiped the godly incarnation of evil itself. Was it really so hard to believe that a woman could get pregnant by a magic tree?
“We, descendants of Dia, remain steadfast in our mission to protect our people.
“We honor the old ways.
“And we still have not lost the command of her light to guide us through dark times.”
Sehra raised her hand and Vi watched closely. Every time she’d seen this ritual before, she’d missed it. A small sigh escaped Sehra’s lips, one Vi knew to be the sound “durroe.”
It was true what Sehra had said, that in time she had learned the words to the point of hardly needing to speak them. It was an illusion, nothing more, but the usual oohs and ahhs from those gathered showed that they saw it as the Mother’s pure blessings.
The ball of light Vi had stared at for hours on end filled Sehra’s palm. Sehra turned to the statue, and placed it in the Mother’s outstretched hand. It stayed there after she took her hand away, and Vi knew it would remain for the better part of the day before fading with sunset.
When she was younger, she too thought it was the Mother’s blessings fueling the orb. Now, she knew it was nothing more than a spell and the Chieftain’s own power. Vi honestly couldn’t decide which was more impressive.
“On this day, as we prepare to endure the longest night of the year, and go the longest stretch without seeing the Mother sun, Yargen’s visible force on our world, we pray she will watch over us from her heavenly throne.” Vi could’ve sworn she saw Sehra’s eyes flick in her direction. “We are those who keep Dia’s light alive.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vi had a mug of steaming cider and couldn’t feel more content. She’d needed a day of merriment and relaxation, and that’s precisely what the solstice provided.
Music lofted through the air near midday. The bands had been playing non-stop after the noru races had concluded in the morning, immediately following the rituals. The solstice festivities were so large this year that the dancing alone had sprawled across three separate clearings in the city—one Vi suspected was made by some determined Groundbreakers to have their own dance floor when everything else was full.
Everything muddled together like the spices in her drink. It was impossible to focus on any one singular thing—but she didn’t want to anyway. The sum of all the parts was too wonderful to try to separate them. Vi wanted to take in everything, as much as she could. This would be her last solstice to enjoy in the North and she was awash with nostalgia, and regret over the worry that she had never really spent long enough enjoying it before.
“How long does this go on?” Jayme asked from her side. They sat on a raised platform of stairs with Andru, others escaping the dancing, and those merely enjoying the merriment. Though none sat too closely. It was the invisible force field of nobility keeping others at bay. With an elfin’ra on the loose, for once Vi wasn’t irritated by the imposed isolation.
“They celebrate as long as the sun is in the sky, so the Mother can see joyous appreciation for her goodness before she settles in for her long sleep. When the sun is gone, there will be one more ritual and then everyone braces for the long night.”
“Braces? Braces for what? Is there some kind of ritual combat in honor of the Father?”
“No. Braces as in goes to sleep.” Vi laughed.
“You could’ve just said that, you know.” Jayme shook her head, exasperated, but a smile spread across her cheeks. “The drama of the ritual from earlier has you swept up.”
“Perhaps.” Vi took another sip of her drink, savoring the way the flavors drifted over her tongue before burning down her throat due to heat in both temperature and spice. There was a lot of drama Vi was wrapped up in, way more than Jayme would likely ever understand. “Isn’t that part of the enjoyment, though? Getting lost in something that seems as if it should be impossible?”
Impossible… like a man made of light. A smile fought its way onto Vi’s face at the thought.
“Well, if that isn’t a romantic notion.” Jayme gave her a sidelong look, one Vi ignored. The last thing she wanted to do was give Jayme any suspicions about Taavin.
“She certainly seems lost in romance,” Andru said from their side, nodding at Ellene and Darrus as he sipped from his mug.
“That’s the truth. This whole place could burn down and I don’t think she’d see anyone but him.”
Jayme snorted in amusement. “Us, maybe? She might try to save us from the fire.”
“Maybe.” Vi stressed the word to the point they broke into laughter. She turned to Andru. Something about the time that had passed bringing them closer, the cool day clearing her head, or the warm cider sitting in her belly, had made her comfortable enough to dare asking a personal question. “Has a lady caught your eye back home, Andru?”
He sputtered and coughed, cider going everywhere at the question. Vi and Jayme fought laughter at his expense as he set his mug aside, trying to wipe it off the front of his shirt.
“Me? A lady? No…” he mumbled, glancing at them, then back to his shirt. Vi tilted her head slightly, trying to see his face. There was something there… something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“But—”
“My father is adamant that I make a good match.” He grew still, maybe preternaturally so. Vi had lost count of the times Andru’s demeanor brought to mind helpless prey caught in the crosshairs of a predator. She couldn’t hear the words that echoed in his mind, but she could see his eyes were no longer fixated on the present. He’d said his father was an ass, so Vi could only imagine how that conversation went.
She reached out a hand, resting it lightly on his. Andru stiffened at the touch, and they made eye contact. She held it for a long moment.
“I’m sure I’ll be the same,” Vi whispered softly. “I’ll have a good match made for me, too.” A match she’d have little say in.
“Your parents certainly defied those expectations,” Jayme mumbled. Vi opened her mouth to reply, but it was Andru who beat her to the words.
“Prince Romulin has said that’s precisely why they—Vi especially—are expected to make smart matches. A commoner rising to marry the
Crown Prince as Empress Vhalla did is not something we can come to expect often.”
“And here I thought they’d set a precedent.” Jayme took a sip of her cider.
“They had unusual circumstances leading to their being crowned.” Vi sighed softly. There had been the assassination of her grandfather, the uprising of the Mad King, the final war of the Crystal Caverns before the caverns went dormant—.
The Crystal Caverns going dormant. Vi sat straighter. Taavin had said the barriers on Raspian and his followers had been broken about eighteen years ago, which corresponded with the end of the Mad King’s rule and his use of the power from the caverns. Could that have been the barrier?
Vi fought the urge to race back to her room and summon him, instead taking another lingering sip of her drink.
“Romulin says much the same,” Andru said, ignorant to Vi’s thoughts. “He thinks Vi will be married to a prince of the East and he a princess of the West.”
“Don’t you mean, Prince Romulin?” Jayme leaned forward slightly. “You’re always going on about what the prince does and doesn’t say. Are you sure you report to the Senate and not to him?”
Andru turned scarlet. “I-I am merely fortunate enough to know his highness and think he is very wise.”
“I agree with you, Andru,” Vi said over the top of her mug. Jayme had connected something she’d overlooked. Something Vi was now incredibly curious about. But much like her other revelation about the caverns, this was neither the time nor place. “He gives me excellent counsel, and I am looking forward to getting such wisdom in person when I go home.” Along with knowing him better in every other way.
“Home…” Jayme repeated thoughtfully. “Vi, may I ask you something?”
“You know you can ask me anything.”
“Do you really want to go south?” Vi frowned, turning to face her friend. Jayme took a sip, clearly mulling over her words with the cider. “You did say I could ask anything.”
“It’s fine you asked.” Vi didn’t want Jayme to feel like she couldn’t be honest. “I’m merely wondering where that question comes from… Have I done something to make it seem like I don’t appreciate the South?”
She glanced over at Andru. Even if he’d become her ally… did she have to worry about matters like this being repeated to his father? Jayme clearly didn’t think so, as she continued the line of questioning.
“Nothing of the sort. But if I’m honest, you haven’t done anything to make me think you have a deep love for it, either. You’ve lived here your whole life, you know this as home… do you really want to leave it?”
“I expected this sort of questioning from Southerners, but not from you.” Vi had been bracing herself for it, preparing herself, but she hadn’t thought it’d come so soon.
“A good thing to expect,” Andru murmured.
“I’m just curious, princess,” Jayme insisted. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry if I sounded curt.” Vi sighed.
“Answer honestly now, princess,” Andru advised. “You may not have a chance when we return home.” He was on her side—she was sure of it.
Vi searched for an answer to the question—an honest answer. Everything she could think of to say sounded as though she was channeling her best public princess face. But they were right. This might be the only opportunity she had to answer as just Vi—not the princess, not the heir, but Vi Solaris.
“Home is a funny thing…” she said, finally. “I don’t really know where home is or what it will look like. I have dreams, ideas, but nothing concrete.”
“But it’s not here?”
“Sehra has been… kind, most of the other Northerners as well… All right, hit or miss sometimes with them—not that I blame them, given how recently the war was, all things considered… But overall, yes, they’ve been kind. And Ellene is like the sister I never had.” Vi’s eyes landed on the girl in question. She was laughing, full-bellied and head tilted back, as Darrus spun her in time to the music. “But Ellene is the only one who could make this feel like home. Everyone else has always maintained a level of distance; they see me as Southern. I don’t look like them, or talk like them, and trying to would be nothing short of offensive. I know that without my tutors telling me as much.
“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.
