by Elise Kova
Something particularly large smacked into her shoulder. This time she did stumble and falter. A knight grabbed her roughly, righting her.
“Keep going or lose your head,” he snarled.
Vi found her feet once more, looking to her father. His dark eyes were filled with all the sorrow of the world. Sheer agony covered his face, agony that compounded the longer he looked at her. But when he spoke, his words were strong and even.
“Keep that head high,” he dared to utter. “Even if you wear a crown of filth, you are still a princess of Solaris.”
They can’t take that away from you. The words were left unsaid, but Vi heard them with her heart more than her ears. She felt them—saw them, in every one of her father’s movements.
Vi straightened, holding her head high, and continued their slow march to the Archives of Yargen.
At long last, they crested the top of the final set of stairs, reaching a large square. The heavy irons had cut into her wrists, blood dripping down her fingertips. But Vi continued to hold her head high. The small act of defiance was all she could manage now.
The Archives of Yargen towered over her in a single spire. At its base, triangular buildings stretched out like points on a sun, connected by glass-topped, floating archways and walkways. Every building was nearly five stories tall—taller than anything else surrounding it. But even they were only half the height of the main column.
Vi craned her neck awkwardly, jaw aching. Smoke billowed from a ring of windows near the top of the spire. The Flame of Yargen. Which meant Taavin’s home—his prison—was just above that.
“Take him to the dungeons.” Ulvarth’s voice drifted back to her. The public had been pushed away from this square, leaving just Ulvarth and his small army.
Taavin was gone as well, but Vi hadn’t seen where they’d taken him.
“And bring the girl to me.”
The words took a second to register. It wasn’t until her father was being forcibly ripped from her side that Vi understood. She turned for her father. Vi screamed against her gag—more incoherent sounds.
In truth, she didn’t know if she had words at all. Her mind was pure rage, and the daze of such a new and overwhelming place, peppered with the sheer confusion of exactly how all this had happened.
Two strong arms closed around her, pulling her backward, hoisting her off the ground. Vi kicked her feet and thrashed. She was done being the polite princess. The masses were gone; there was no longer the need to represent the Dark Isle with regal pride, and Ulvarth’s Swords already thought her a monster. She would prove them right to defend her father.
Aldrik looked back to her, worry in his eyes. He still said nothing. How could he say nothing? She was the one wearing the gag, but he was the silent one. It was a level of self-control Vi had yet to gain.
“You have fight in you, don’t you?” Ulvarth stepped into her field of vision, blocking her view of her father. Vi twisted and struggled against the arms holding her, trying to catch sight of him again. But he’d been lost in the sea of golden armor, purple sashes, and cruel eyes.
She’d lost him again.
She’d lost her father.
Vi glared at Ulvarth. She’d show him how much fight she had in her. Fire crackled around her knuckles, popping underneath the iron biting into her flesh at her wrists. It didn’t take much for the iron to heat to a red glow under her white-hot flames.
Ulvarth covered the flames with his hand. She didn’t know if he had somehow smothered her fire—or if it was the sheer surprise of the motion that extinguished her spark. He leaned in, the thick scent of peppermint making her dizzy.
“Now, now, you’ve done so well. No need to fight.”
Vi would spit in his face if she could.
“Especially not since I’m willing to make a deal with you.”
Her body went still. Warning bells tolled violently in her mind. His mere proximity had her whole body aflame with caution.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A deal to save yours and your father’s skins?” Ulvarth waited long enough that it became clear he was waiting on her. His mouth twitched into a brief grimace, but he kept his composure. “Well?”
Vi nodded begrudgingly, and the sinister smile returned.
“Good, I thought so.” Ulvarth leaned away. “Take her to my throne,” he commanded the knights holding her before starting off ahead.
Vi was all but dragged behind him, ushered into the shadow of the Archives of Yargen, through the lofty stone archway, framed by two open doors.
And into the Light of Yargen for the first time.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Archives of Yargen were barely comprehensible. They should be an impossibility. Surely a place like this couldn’t exist.
Vi forgot her body for several blissful minutes as she was half-carried, half-dragged through the ground floor of the Archives. She was too distracted by the shelves on shelves on shelves of books. Surely, every piece of knowledge that ever existed was compiled and packed into the overflowing bookcases that lined the spire all the way to the top.
Rings of walkways—connected by stairways and ladders—spread out at varying intervals all the way to the top. At the summit, a brazier hung over the center of the room, larger and more opulent than any Vi had ever seen. Several archways extended from the bookcases to support it, with chains hanging from points on the ceiling to further secure its suspension above the center of the tall, hollow room.
She squinted at the flame. It was so bright that it lit the whole of the Archives like daylight, even though there were no other light sources positioned among the bookcases.
Underneath her feet was a tiled floor of mother-of-pearl mosaic grouted with gold. At the center, directly under the flame, was a large golden sun. At the sun’s center was an intricate engraving of a glyph Vi recognized from the coin Charlie the pirate had used to pay at the tavern. It was the same glyph she’d seen carved in the trees in Soricium—three interconnected circles, stacked vertically with a line through their center.
“Keep moving.” One of the knights shoved her and Vi stumbled forward.
They led her across the room, directly under the flame. From where Vi stood, it seemed massive—and she was at least ten stories beneath it. Vi couldn’t fathom its size up close. Even from here, she could see sculpted women fanning outward and linking arms to hold the main basin with their frozen, reverent faces.
Above the flame was a stone ceiling—likely the floor of Taavin’s room. His prison.
She had no further opportunity to study the Archives as the knights led her through a side door tucked between bookcases. They wound up a narrow stair sandwiched behind the bookshelves, illuminated by glowing stones—not unlike those in the Twilight Kingdom—and emerged in a hallway through one of the soaring arches she’d seen connecting the main archives to the pointed buildings fanning around it like sun rays. Through another carved and gilded door they went, into what Ulvarth had aptly described as a throne room.
He sat on a chair of gold, plush with purple velvet. A sun rose up from the back of his chair, its points giving the illusion of a crown on his raven hair. A sash was draped over his shoulder and he wielded the crystal scythe in his right hand. Just the sight of him holding the glittering weapon made her feel ill.
“Kneel.” The brown-eyed knight who’d been manhandling her kicked the back of her knees. Vi fell hard, biting against her gag to keep back a shout of pain. “You’re in the presence of High Lord Ulvarth, Lord of the Swords of Light, Destined Savior of Meru and Champion of Yargen.”
Ulvarth’s hateful eyes glimmered as he looked down on her. Vi had no doubt that while he didn’t respect her land or people, he still delighted in seeing a princess brought to her knees before him. And a man that delighted in debasing others was a man who could never be trusted.
“If I remove your gag, do you promise not to try to use magic against me?”
Vi thought about it for a long moment and ev
entually nodded. He’d said something about offering her a deal, and she wanted to hear him out. Taavin was still at play in all of this. He wouldn’t betray her, Vi’s heart insisted for a countless time.
“Remove her gag, leave the shackles, and get out,” Ulvarth commanded his knights.
“My Lord—”
“I did not ask for your opinion,” Ulvarth said smoothly, almost lightly, as though he was making a passing suggestion and not levying a very obvious threat.
The knight removed her gag and left, closing the door behind them. Vi listened for their footsteps—they promptly stopped just beyond the door. Maybe she could kill Ulvarth, but she wouldn’t make it out alive.
“Are you thinking of killing me?” he asked with a surprisingly smug grin.
“It’s tempting.” Vi rose to her feet.
“You won’t make it out alive.”
“So I gathered. It’s still tempting.” Vi gave him a mad grin. Perhaps she was mad for talking to him the way she was. But Vi had seen the death that was coming for her, and knew she wouldn’t die here.
“Do you wonder why you’re not dead yet?”
She doubted he’d believe her if she said she knew it was because she was currently fated to die fighting Raspian with the scythe he had his filthy hands all over. “I have the distinct feeling you’re about to tell me.”
Ulvarth lifted the scythe before slamming it down on the dais. The low thud was a cue and, on command, Taavin emerged from behind the throne. He wore the same finery she’d seen him in on the litter—gold and white. They were the Solaris Imperial colors as well, and for half of a second her treacherous mind wondered what he would look like as a Solaris Emperor, ruling at her side.
But now was certainly not the time or place to indulge such fantasies.
Especially not when her and her father’s survival was up for debate.
“Our Voice has told me something most interesting,” Ulvarth started. Vi didn’t miss the hint of annoyance already in his voice. “He has told me that you are Yargen’s new Champion, destined to defend the light against the coming darkness.”
“And yet your men honor you with the title.” Vi arched her dark eyebrows. Ulvarth’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You.” Ulvarth’s eye twitched. “The divine chose you. A small girl from the Dark Isle. The daughter of the man and woman who wounded Yargen so—who went against her will and acted in favor of the dark god.”
Vi pressed her lips together and kept her mouth shut. He hadn’t asked her a question and she didn’t feel like indulging his chatter. She glanced over to Taavin, but he had yet to make eye contact with her. Wherever he was mentally, it was a world away.
“What can you possibly do?” Ulvarth grumbled. Vi didn’t have a good answer, but once more, he wasn’t looking for one. Ulvarth adjusted his seat, narrowly avoiding a position that would make his sulking even more obvious. “It’s no matter… you’re here now.”
“You said you had a deal for me.” Vi had no interest in his pity party over not being chosen as Yargen’s Champion. She suspected if he really knew the trimmings the job came with, he’d be happier without it. He was just another man who wanted power and none of the responsibility attached. Vi had dealt with men like him her whole life—she called them Senators.
“I do. You see, Vi Solaris, I am not a man without mercy. I would be willing to send you and your father back to your forgotten rock on one of the Sword’s fastest vessels.”
“What would you want in return for such a kindness?”
“The Voice has assured me that, with your help as Champion, we will be able to rekindle the Flame of Yargen and return it to its former glory.”
Former glory? Rekindle? Taavin had said as much… But the flame she passed under looked incredibly glorious from where Vi stood.
“If the Faithful have any hope to make it through the dark age Lord Raspian will usher in, we shall need her barrier, at the least. Yet the flame is so weak, it can barely protect this temple—let alone all of Risen.”
Vi gave a small nod. She heard his words but didn’t fully understand them. Yet she had the distinct feeling Ulvarth was the sort of man who didn’t appreciate questions.
“Should you rekindle the flame for me, and commit to eternal silence on the role your family played in weakening it in the first place, I shall let you and your father return to your isle and do… whatever it is you do on that desolate rock.”
“And my role as Champion?” Vi glanced at Taavin. He was still avoiding looking at her. This had to be some kind of plan he’d put together… right?
“I think you mean my role as Champion.” Ulvarth gripped the scythe tighter, as though that alone distinguished him as the Champion.
“I see…” Vi said. He saw the crystal weapon as a trophy. Even if he knew it could be used to stand against Raspian, Vi doubted he would. All he wanted was the flame rekindled and a barrier around Risen—the rest of the world be damned. Taavin had kept information from Ulvarth and that meant she had to trust him and play along. “In the meantime, while I rekindle the flame and keep my silence, you’ll keep my father safe?”
“No harm shall come to him while he awaits trial for his crimes.”
“My father committed no crimes against you or your lands. This is the first time he’s ever stepped foot on them.” Vi shifted her wrists, trying to adjust the pressure of the shackles. Her blood slowly dripped on the floor from where the iron had cut into her flesh on the long walk.
“Your father allowed Raspian to return to this world.”
Vi expected him to seem more upset about such a truth, but he delivered the line with the same concern one might reserve for reporting the weather. That was proof enough that he was lying. Ulvarth knew it wasn’t entirely because of her father that Raspian had returned. This was all just a game.
Think like him.
Something was wrong with the flame of Yargen, and Ulvarth couldn’t fix it—not without her help. The man likely hated the notion of “lowering himself” to asking someone from the Dark Isle for help. If she succeeded, and he sent her away… he planned to take the credit.
“No harm comes to my father while he awaits your trial,” Vi reiterated, confident she now understood the full terms of the deal. “You keep him safe, comfortable, and in quarters befitting his station.”
“You think you can order me, now?”
“I’m not ordering, I’m bargaining. Didn’t you say you had an offer? Well the offer has turned into a negotiation.” Vi rolled her shoulders back, standing straighter and ignoring the weight of the shackles trying to pull her down. “You keep my father and me safe and comfortable. When I have finished rekindling the flame, you allow us to go home without any other hindrances. You make no move against the Dark Isle or my family ever again. And then I will say nothing of my role here. I will let no one know that it was really I who helped rekindle the flame.”
Ulvarth’s expression soured like a too-ripe fruit. Vi smirked. He hadn’t expected her to figure his game and she hoped he hadn’t figured out hers.
Rekindling the flame had always been part of her mission. But so was figuring out the secrets of the watch and the scythe. Her arrival in Risen hadn’t gone according to plan, but she was where she needed to be—the Archives of Yargen.
Fate had yet to abandon her.
“Do we have a deal?” Vi tilted her head. “I do everything you need and you can take credit for all my work.”
“You think I need you that desperately?” he sneered.
“I do, because you are only pretending to be Yargen’s chosen Champion. You need me,” Vi stated with all the royal arrogance she’d avoided her whole life. “Do we have an understanding?”
Ulvarth was silent for several long breaths. Vi wondered if his heaving chest was a method to attempt to calm himself down. If it was, it didn’t seem to be working. But then again, he didn’t scream at her when he opened his mouth again, despite the bright flush in his cheeks.
&
nbsp; “I think we have an understanding,” he said finally.
“One more thing.”
“You are a greedy woman.”
“Blame my royal upbringing.” She was in rags, covered in filth. He was on a gilded throne. Yet in that moment, Vi felt like the more powerful person in the room. “I need free access to the Archives of Yargen, and to that scythe.”
“You think I’m just going to let you wander with a weapon?”
“It’s required to rekindle the flame.” She had no idea what was required. But she wanted as long of a leash as possible. She wanted to get her hands on those books for more reasons than she had fingers and toes. And she wanted full access to the last crystal weapon.
“Very well. I will let you have access to the Archives. But take one step outside and you will not make it a second step.”
“And the scythe?”
Ulvarth considered for a long moment, slowly turning to the statue called Taavin. “The Voice shall keep it, and perform any necessary research. He shall report to me on his findings and, as needed, you shall have supervised access to him and the crystal weapon.”
Vi tried to keep disappointment off her face. The more she fought, the more he’d know he had something worth holding over her head. It’d give up the strength of her position. So instead, Vi kept her face passive, emotions hidden.
“Then yes, my lord. We do have an understanding.”
“You have one month to rekindle the flame. One month before my patience and kindness expire.”
Vi didn’t know what she was doing, so she didn’t know if that was long enough. Taavin had no reaction and gave no indication one way or another. He hardly looked like he was breathing.
“Now get out,” Ulvarth snarled.
She gave a bow, just for effect, and turned for the door. The scythe thudded dully on the dais beneath her as Ulvarth struck it twice, signaling for the knights on the other side of the doors to escort her away.
