by Elise Kova
“Let him heal you,” Vi called. “We need the hands to set sail.”
There was a long stretch of silence and, finally, “Fine. Though if you tell anyone I let Lightspinning touch me, I will kill you.”
“I thought you were going to kill me anyway,” Taavin mumbled.
“I thought I was killing Ulvarth, and you were still to be decided.”
Vi slumped, resting her forehead in her palm. The whole world spun, and it had nothing to do with the rocking of the boat. She had to get herself in order. They needed to get away from the Isle of Frost. Yet she stayed frozen, her hand clutching the now broken watch.
“Daughter.” Her father’s hand rested heavily on her shoulder, jolting Vi from her thoughts. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
She stared up in momentary awe. He was really here. It had been years since they’d last seen each other. Now, they were together for the foreseeable future—no meetings, no Imperial business, nothing to tear them apart. Nothing save the end of the world, that is.
“Actually, yes.” Vi forced her mind to move again and not just gawk at him. “In the cabin there’s a satchel. Bring it to me?”
Aldrik stood slowly, and walked even more slowly to the cabin’s entrance. Vi watched him carefully. Even though she had been far more beaten up during the escape, he looked worse for wear. The gray streaks by his ears had never seemed wider.
Still, he moved with the grace of an Emperor. Every motion was fluid and purposeful. Even at his worst, he was still better than most at their best.
“Is this it?” he asked, returning with the bag.
“Yes.” Vi placed it on the deck, rummaging through it for the vials Sarphos had given her. She quickly read through their various labels and found the two she was looking for, downing them in a large swig. “Thank you.”
Vi wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Sarphos’s abilities never failed to impress her. It felt as though the potion never even reached her stomach, seeping into her blood and restoring strength to her muscles near instantly.
“Here—” Vi held up two more vials to her father. That only left them with one more—for disease, specifically, which didn’t seem applicable at the moment—but if there was ever a time to use them, it was now. She also took out one of Sarphos’s ration crackers. It looked like a biscuit but really did fill the stomach as though you’d eaten a meal. “Take these.”
Her father didn’t question, uncorking and drinking from the vials as Vi stood. Taavin and Arwin were on their feet as well.
“We should get moving.” Time was strange for her at present. She couldn’t tell how long she’d been on the deck, waiting for the world to settle back into place. Yet it felt like far too long. “I think Adela has enough on her hands but—”
“We don’t want to be around when chaos turns to rage,” Arwin finished.
“Taavin, you take the helm, Arwin and I will get the sails ready.” Vi looked to her father, a small smile spreading on her lips at the mere sight of him. He was alive, and with her. It was every dream come true. She’d actually done it. “Father, you just sit tight and rest.”
“I can help.”
“We have this,” Vi insisted. “The three of us sailed here, we know the ropes.”
Her father relented, still slowly nibbling Sarphos’s biscuit as he sat on the steps that led up to the quarterdeck. Taavin walked around him, and Vi didn’t miss them sharing a small look that spoke volumes she couldn’t hear. For now, she ignored it. They had a few days trapped on a ship together; there’d be enough time to deal with everything.
Arwin began readying the sails. They got the ship moving without so much as a word among them. Vi looked out over the Isle of Frost as they turned away; smoke plumed into the early dawn from the still-burning pirate town. Not one ship had limped out from the lagoon.
“I saw it,” Arwin said softly, startling Vi from her thoughts.
“Saw what?”
“When I broke the shift around the Isle of Frost… I saw the spider-web red fractures in the veil between this world and the next.”
Vi turned her gaze over the horizon, leaving the isle behind her. So what she’d seen in the sky hadn’t been a hallucination of magic and pain. Taavin’s words—some of the first he said to her when she arrived on Meru—echoed back to her: We’re running short on time. The end of the world is near, and we must be ready to meet it.
“The world really is ending, isn’t it?” Arwin whispered.
“It’s heading in that direction.”
“Can you truly stop it?”
“I’m going to try.” Vi looked over at her companion, the woman’s eyes locking with hers.
“We’ll have to keep training you with that scythe, then.” Arwin gave her a light pat on the shoulder, the touch brief but shockingly reaffirming. “So rest up today, princess. We’re back at it tomorrow.” All Vi could do was nod, startled by the woman’s sudden change in attitude. “Speaking of… How many days are we going to be stuck on this thing this time?”
“That’s an excellent question.” Vi returned to her bag, grabbing the journal.
“I was about to ask for a headway—more than ‘away from Adela’.” Taavin joined the conversation.
“That headway sounds good enough to me for now,” Arwin declared. “I’ll take the helm. You should give her a look-over and make sure her wounds have healed…” Arwin glanced between Vi and Aldrik. “And I suspect you may want some time with your father.”
“Thank you.” Time with her father was a luxury Vi could barely comprehend. She almost didn’t know what to do with it now.
“So where are we heading?” Arwin looked over Vi’s shoulder at the map.
“Risen,” Vi announced. She looked up at Arwin. “There, you can kill Ulvarth.”
“You sound almost eager about that,” Arwin mumbled with the tiniest grin on her mouth. Vi ignored it, looking to Taavin.
“And we can find out the truth about this.” She held the watch, broken metal jutting against her hand uncomfortably. “And find a way to stop Raspian.”
“Risen it is.” Arwin took the journal from her, bending over to scoop the compass from the satchel. “North, then northwest after we pass the southern tip of Meru’s crescent?”
“You have the right idea,” Vi affirmed.
“Then I think I can manage for a while.”
Taavin was already descending the stairs as Arwin went up. Vi looked over her shoulder again at the Isle of Frost. There were still no signs of ships in pursuit, and the land was growing smaller and smaller with each passing minute.
“Looking for the Stormfrost?” Taavin asked from her side.
“Yes. Though I don’t think they’ll give chase…” She thought back to the magic she’d unleashed—the pirates going crazed, red lightning mixing with blue and yellow fire. As her thoughts wandered, Taavin’s hand drifted over her and he murmured spells. The haziness in her head began to clear and the last of the aches vanished. But before Vi could thank him, Taavin’s fingers rested against the watch. This time, no magic lashed out at him.
“What happened?” he asked again.
“I used the words the elfin’ra had used on me to control Adela.” She could still feel the echo of power rumbling within her like a dark storm.
“You used those words?” He looked up at her, his expression darkening. “Are you insane?”
“Maybe. It was that or die,” Vi said firmly. She didn’t want to be made to feel guilty for doing what it took to survive.
“Those words are Raspian’s work… As Yargen’s words evoke her magic, those evoke his.” Taavin tapped the watch. “You invited his power into you willingly.”
Vi clenched her jaw as she looked out over the ocean. She could continue insisting it had been to survive… but was it? Or had she wanted to find the most brutal way to end Adela’s life? Where did her justice end and her darkness begin?
“No wonder it reacted poorly with the watch,” he said
grimly. “Yargen’s magic was likely trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?”
“Vi, think.” Taavin gripped her upper arm to the point of pain. “Raspian seeks a living host to let him walk among this land once more, and fully usher in an Era of Darkness. To do that he needs one of us, or the ashes of the flame. If you invited his magic into you…” Vi felt her shoulders tense, and it had nothing to do with the pain of Taavin’s grip. It felt like a crank was winding the muscles in her neck, making her head hurt all over again. “One way or another, as his power continues to grow, he’ll find a way into this world. Let’s not make it easy for him.”
“I won’t,” Vi whispered. “I won’t use those words ever again.”
“Good.” Taavin relented, quickly releasing her as if he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto her. His fingers trailed down her arm, wrapping around hers tightly for a long moment. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
Vi gave him a small smile. Their lives—their love, however unspoken it was—seemed so insignificant in the face of the needs of the whole world. No wonder neither of them could bring themselves to say it aloud.
“Now, I’m going to get some rest…” Taavin looked over her shoulder. Vi thought he was looking to the cabin, until she turned, realizing he’d locked eyes with her father. “You finally have your father. You should spend some time with him.”
Vi squeezed his hand once before letting go.
Taavin crossed to the cabin and disappeared behind the curtain. Arwin was at the helm, focused and silent. Her father slowly stood and walked over to her. Vi’s throat was thick with emotion, and tears prickled her eyes but didn’t fall. Aldrik’s eyes seemed just as glassy.
But the deeply ingrained stoicism of royalty won for them both.
They had shared words. They had been reunited. This moment felt different. This moment felt like the first time they were actually seeing each other, free from panic, fear, and worry.
Vi took a deep breath.
“It’s been a while. I’ve much to tell you.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“It started with a watch…” Vi began as they sat at the bow of the boat. The seas were blessedly smooth, the salt spray from the hull cutting through the ocean misting her legs as she hung them over the side between the railings. “This watch—or what’s left of it, to be specific.”
“I recognize it.”
“You do?”
Her father hummed softly. “Even charred and broken, I’d know it anywhere. After all, it was this watch that gave your mother her magic back.”
“Magic… back?” Vi repeated.
“Have we never told you that story?”
“I suppose not.” Vi had heard of rare cases where sorcerers lost their power through a process called eradication—diminishing magic to the point that it created a block in the channel. But she’d never heard of her mother going through it.
“When the Mad King rose up, he gravely injured your mother and, in the process, robbed her of her magic. There was a brief time when her command of the wind was gone.” Aldrik’s eyes drifted closed and he sighed, for a moment living in a time well before Vi’s birth. “We didn’t think she would ever regain her power. But it seemed she had made an unintentional vessel—that watch. It housed enough of her magic to reopen her channel.”
“Fritz said that Mother was reunited with her power when the world was darkest, thanks to this. But I didn’t know…” Vi turned the watch over and over in her hands. Magic has an odd way of finding us when we need it most. He couldn’t have known when he’d sent the watch how right he’d been. “It gave mother a connection to her power; it gave me a connection with mine,” she whispered, mostly to herself.
“Your magic, Vi…” Her father left the sentence hanging, clearly expecting her to fill in the blank.
“It’s not like yours, after all.” She looked back over the deck, toward the cabin. Her mind was an ocean of memory and Vi was sinking into its depths. “It’s like his.”
“His?” Her father turned, following her attention. “Ah… Taavin, you called him?”
“He’s a Lightspinner. Like me.” Her voice nearly quivered at the end. “I-I’m not a Firebearer.”
Aldrik was quiet, looking back out over the sea for a breath. Eventually he turned to her, tilted his head, and asked, “So?”
“My magic isn’t like yours, like grandmother’s, like anyone in the Ci’Dan line or anyone on the Dark Isle for that matter.”
“Just as Sehra predicted.”
Her parents had known, thanks to the traveler, that she would have unique magic. At first, Vi had hated the traveler and what she’d done to her life. But now, sitting next to her father—a father she had rescued thanks to that magic—Vi found her rage had quelled. Had it not been for the traveler, Aldrik would be dead.
“Speaking of family, does your mother know where you are?”
“I’m not sure.” Vi glanced at him, feeling as if she was about to be scolded. “I told Romulin. He may have mentioned something by now.”
Aldrik shook his head, letting out a chuckle. Had her father always looked so old? Sounded so tired? It seemed he’d aged ten years in the five it had been since she’d last seen him.
“My foolish daughter… You could’ve been killed, you know.” His face fell from the controlled mask of the Emperor into the raw emotion of a father.
“You could’ve been killed if I hadn’t come to rescue you,” Vi countered stubbornly.
“This streak of recklessness, you get it from your mother.” Despite his words, her father had a proud smile, as if he were silently taking credit for the fact.
She blurted out rough laughter. “Mother would say differently I think.”
“Exactly. She’s reckless and stubborn.” His eyes were glassy and tired. But still, no tears fell. This time it had nothing to do with the trappings of royalty, and everything to do with the fact that they were soaking in the relief of being finally, finally reunited.
“I know about her,” Vi confessed. “I know why you left.”
“You do?”
“Yes. And I want you to know that I’ll save her, just like I saved you.” Vi stared out at the sky. The bloody dawn had turned into a pastel blue with spots of white in the distance. Not a cloud of red lightning in sight.
But Vi could still feel Raspian out there. She could feel him in her blood now—in the weight of the broken watch around her neck. Taavin was right: Raspian’s power was growing day by day, perhaps in part because of her. She had been the one to first sail through the storm of red lightning, to inspect the tears in the Twilight Forest, to throw herself into one of those tears, and then to use his words…
It was possible her actions were giving him footholds in the world. Vi’s jaw tightened. It didn’t matter; she’d be the one to undo him.
“Vi,” her father said painfully soft, “Sometimes, you can’t save everyone.”
Vi jerked her head toward him.
Aldrik Solaris had always been an imposing figure. Dark hair, taller than most. He wasn’t particularly broad, but he could command a room with little more than his presence and a look. Vi loved her father dearly, but he could be frightening to a young girl, especially when she’d done wrong. She had always seen him as an insurmountable force of nature.
But right now he looked like a tired old man.
“I will save our family,” she vowed. “First our family, then the world.” She’d saved him from the clutches of Adela; the rest suddenly seemed manageable.
“How did you even know to save me?” Her father shifted, bringing up a knee and resting his forearm on it. The skin of his shin was exposed through a long rip in his clothes. Everything he wore was in tatters—a shadow of former Imperial glory.
“I had a vision of the future, specifically of you on the Isle of Frost.”
“So you can see the future?” Vi made a noise of affirmation. “You share that muc
h with your grandmother—my mother—then.”
“I thought so but… It’s a different sort of sight.” Vi tucked her head, running a hand through her hair with a sigh.
His father tapped her chin. “Do you not peer along the lines set out by the goddess?”
“I think so but—”
“Do you look into flames?”
“Well, yes, but that may just be because I—”
“Daughter, you are of her blood, as you are of mine, as you are of your mother’s. You don’t need proof in magic or tokens. You don’t need the world to validate it. It’s here.” He tapped her breastbone under her collarbone and above her heart. “It’s in the woman who’s sailed across the world and risked her life to reunite that family.”
Vi hung her head now. She would not allow the world to see the few stray tears fall. Her father’s arms wrapped tightly around her for a long moment, his chin on the top of her head. As if he understood, as if he knew that for one long minute she needed to hide from the world and give in to the overwhelming emotions before she drowned in them.
She straightened, finally, rubbing her face when her tears would no longer betray her.
“But this talk of saving the world,” her father finally continued. “You’ve risked enough, Vi. Come home.”
“Father… I can’t,” she protested weakly. It was a tempting prospect, even before he elaborated.
“You can. You are the crown princess of the Solaris Empire. Your home is on the Main Continent.”
Vi sniffed as a bitter smile crossed her lips. Her father still called it the Main Continent, and she had long since begun to refer to it as the Dark Isle. Vi could argue it was because that was how those on Meru knew it. But it was more than that.
She had called it the Dark Isle more because that was how she saw it. Her worldview had changed, and Vi didn’t know what it would take for it to change back… if it ever would.
“You’ve done your share, return home,” he repeated.
“What about mother?”
