by Kova, Elise
“I can’t find information on this Fallor if I do.” Jayme shook her head. “And I should stay close to the soldiers, make sure I can be your ear on the inside.”
“Right,” Vi begrudgingly agreed. “Thank you for all you do.”
“I’m here for you, you know that. I’ll be back to take up my post right after I grab some food.” Jayme gave her a fond smile and quickly departed for the ration line.
Vi entered her tent alone, waving at the brazier to light it. Before her hand fell, she whispered the incantation to bring forth Taavin, anchoring the light around her wrist.
“This is different…” Taavin looked around her tent. “You’re on the road now?”
“Only a few days until we reach the northern edge of the Western Waste, then it’s a straight shot down to the Crossroads.”
“Where you’ll make your break for it?”
“That’s the plan,” Vi muttered, her thoughts still swirling around Romulin, feeling distant from Jayme, and the knowledge of Fallor touching her things. It was all a heavy burden, and that was ignoring the fact that she still had to think of the right moment to slip away.
“What is it?” Taavin shifted, his attention solely on her.
“Nothing.” Vi wanted to look anywhere but at him. If she gave him her eyes, then he would see everything—all her insecurities, fears, and worries. Of that, Vi was certain. The last thing she wanted to do was look weak before him of all people.
“I know it’s not nothing.”
“You don’t know anything.” She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. Even though she could send him away if she wanted, she didn’t.
Everything about him was a conflicting feeling. Yet she loved it all. She needed him close; even when she wanted to be alone, she still wanted him. She wanted to be alone with him.
“I know you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.” Taavin took a step toward her. “Well, I’m still learning, yes… But I know a good deal, and I want to know more.”
“No, you don’t,” she repeated, softer.
“Yes, I am quite certain that I do.” His hands lifted, as though he was going to reach for her. Then, thinking better of it, they fell back to his sides. Which made it all the more notable when a single finger found itself under her chin, directing her eyes to his. “I want to know everything about you.”
“For your visions?” Vi asked softly. Part of her screamed, let it be for that. Because if that’s all it was, she could ignore the fire that had begun to smolder between them both, smoking out feelings she didn’t want to address.
“For you.” His eyes searched her face. “I want to know every nook and cranny of your mind. I want to know how your thoughts work. I want to know your heart, your will, your wants.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m afraid if I don’t, I may go mad.”
They both took a soft inhale of air, and for a moment it felt like they shared breath. Shock was on his face and Vi could only imagine much the same was on hers. What was he really saying?
Taavin swallowed hard, the lump in his throat bobbing. But his voice was still thick when he spoke again. “Now, tell me, what’s happened to bring such conflict to your brow?”
“It’s a lot…”
“I have time.”
“But I’m not sure if I want to talk about it. I wanted to see you, to forget about the world beyond here… To be with you, because you calm me just by being near.” So it was her turn to have words fall from her lips that she hadn’t quite intended to say.
“I see,” he said finally. “If that is your wish, then let’s distract you with Lightspinning?”
“I’d like that.” Vi breathed a sigh of relief that almost turned into a soft groan of frustration when his hand left her face. She wanted both. She wanted to be emotionally bare before him so that his words could smooth over every rough insecurity and worry. But she also wanted to think of nothing, and simply enjoy his presence.
Simplicity was best, for now. She’d have time to explore whatever these feelings were later… Whenever that was.
“Thank you,” Vi breathed in relief.
“I’ve been thinking of something worthwhile to teach you next… I was thinking of your adventure sneaking out and how radia would be a good word for you to master.”
“Radia,” Vi repeated, letting the word slither over her tongue. It begged to be whispered, barely said, clinging to the last breath. It glided over the air and then vanished before it could be fully realized. “To hide?”
“Yes, radia is a sub-clarification of watt, underneath durroe.”
“So it would be durroe watt radia?” First in Lightspinning was always the overarching discipline. Then the sub-discipline, then any clarifications, with personal words of power at the end.
“Just so.” Taavin moved around her. She watched him from the corners of her eyes. His profile was sharp enough to cut glass and his overall elegance was completely out of place in the tent. “Let’s use one of these.” He gestured to a pillow in the makeshift seating area beside them.
“All right.” Vi sat with one.
“Place it in front of you.” She did as he instructed. “Now, you’re going to make it disappear from sight. Whereas durroe watt or durroe watt ivin is to create an illusion, for radia, you need to know the area around the item—in the physical world—that you want to vanish.”
“Around it?”
“Yes, you want people to see through the item. To look at it and see the ground below—see past it. Radia is an illusion to trick the eyes and mind into missing what’s before them.”
“So wouldn’t it then be under narro—acts of the mind?”
“It’s deceiving the mind through the eyes. It’s firmly under durroe,” Taavin insisted.
“What if I said it under narro? Narro watt radia?”
“Do you presume to know better than the Goddess about her words?”
“I meant no offense, I just—” Vi said hastily, realizing that she’d just likely offended him as the keeper of the Goddess’s flame. He grinned, and burst out laughing.
“I didn’t take it offensively.” Taavin’s laughter settled into a warm smile that had her stomach simmering with happy bubbles. “I don’t think you could offend me.”
“If I recall correctly, you found me quite offensive when we first met.” Vi remembered back to his initial gruffness toward her—when he thought she was just another iteration of torturous visions.
“Well, then, I don’t think you could offend me again.”
She settled her palm behind her, leaning back. It was astounding just how quickly they fell into an easy cadence, as though nothing had happened at all. The flames that had been flaring between them were relegated to a smolder once more. “Should I try? Is that a challenge?”
“Oh, certainly not, I’d fear seeing what you’d come up with to rise to that challenge.” He leaned back on his palm as well. Their fingers were nearly touching. His posture was angled slightly toward her.
“I’m not one to back down.” Her voice had gone breathy, and when Taavin spoke, his matched.
“No, you’re certainly not.”
Was he leaning closer to her? Or was it her imagination? Vi took a slow inhale that got stuck halfway down her throat. The world seemed to slow, silence overwhelming them. Such a heavy silence, it was making her dizzy.
Vi stared up into his eyes. Taavin loomed there, close enough to touch, yet far enough that the world was still between them. She searched his face, looking for secrets and truths alike and landed on his lips—as though that was the place they were all hidden.
Those feelings she’d wanted to ignore were back, with a ruthless urgency she could no longer ignore. The more she saw him, the less they could be denied. No, oh no—her mind screamed warnings through her haze as she focused on the delicate curve of his mouth.
This was a terrible idea; she was headed down a road with this man that she never e
ven realized she’d gotten on. How had she let this happen?
She was the crown princess. She was the one who would live out her days in a political arrangement beneficial for her family and Empire. She didn’t care about things like feelings… or love… she couldn’t. It was the one luxury a princess didn’t have. Heartache was the only thing that awaited if she did.
“But,” Taavin started slowly, as if trying to find his momentum, too. He continued to hover there, his own eyes embarking on an exploratory mission over her face as if he were looking at her for the first time. “I suppose it’s only natural, isn’t it?”
“What is?” Her hand shifted slightly; the side of one fingertip touched his, lightning up her side just as his touch had earlier. What was she doing?
“Oh—” Taavin cleared his throat and shook his head, as if emerging from a haze. Vi watched as he straightened away, looking at his hands instead of her. “It’s a natural question to ask—about narro and durroe. I think many others have, and you raise a good point. But I think you answered your question by saying it aloud. Did you feel anything?”
He spoke so fast it took her brain a good three seconds after he finished to process the words. She’d never seen someone try so hard to be nonchalant and it made the weight of the moment all the more glaring. Vi swallowed, giving her head a shake of its own. If he was ignoring it, then so should she.
It was for the best, and they both knew it.
“No, I didn’t feel anything with them. None of the usual sparks… no glyphs coming to mind.”
“Exactly. That illuminates why it’s important to remember that the words we know are merely an interpretation of the Goddess’s. It is the way our mortal minds can understand a language far beyond our own. Her power is multi-faceted and there are many ways for us to tap into it. Moreover, there may be layers that we do not—and could never—understand.”
“When you say many layers…” Another thought occurred to Vi. One that was hazy, but slowly coming into focus. “Are the elemental magicks of Solaris merely layers of this greater power? You’ve called the elemental magicks ‘fractured powers’ before—and that the rest of the world merely possesses a more general magic.”
Taavin made a low humming noise. “It’s something I would certainly like the opportunity to study more. Magic should merely be magic—any discipline being a way to focus the channel to achieve a goal.
“But, according to lore and passed-down stories, the magic of the Dark Isle is fractured—a whole power broken into its base elements. Thus, the sorcerers there cannot explore whatever discipline they please to see what they take to. They’re relegated to one element.”
“So you’re saying my power isn’t broken like everyone else’s in the Empire?”
“Likely because you are her champion.” He nodded.
“Then… Could I possibly someday learn how to control the other elements as well?” Vi asked eagerly, imagining a time when she would control the currents of air alongside her mother.
“I believe it should be possible. In fact, I imagine I—or anyone else on Meru—could do the same. But the question is how much effort would it be worth when you’ve so clearly taken to Lightspinning?”
“Right…” Vi looked down at the pillow she was supposed to be making disappear. It was a delightful hypothetical. But she had far too much to worry about right in front of her to explore too many tangents. “So I’ll stick with Lightspinning for now. Specifically, durroe watt radia.”
“For the best… Like I said, when you say it, imagine you are seeing through the item. Project the glyphs onto it.”
Vi raised a hand, trying to keep it still. Her heart was still racing around him. “Durroe watt radia.”
Light peeled off her fingertips, spinning through the air. This was far more delicate than any glyph she had constructed with her magic until then. The strands holding together the shifting lines and circles were tenuous at best. Vi tried to imagine it slowly building around the pillow.
“It’s very faint… Is it working?”
“It’s hazy… you’ll need to work on your construction more for this one. Here—” Taavin reached over, resting one hand on her wrist, the other on her palm. He lightly adjusted her hand position with his fingertips. Vi’s spine had never been locked so straight. “This hand position may help. It’s a softer glyph for sure… it needs a delicate hand. Not your juth rigidness.”
He smiled at her, and Vi forced a smile back. Inside, she was melting before the heat from the fire that was burning between them anew. Her mind was consumed with the fact that she had to navigate her family, her visions, running away… and now, worst of all… the budding feeling of something more with Taavin that she never asked for.
He paused, his expression falling, lips parting softly. She shouldn’t have looked him in the eye. She knew he’d see right through her from the start.
Quickly, he pulled away. A smile had returned to his lips, but it read as fake. “Let’s give it another try, shall we?”
She had never wanted to do anything more and less at the same time.
Chapter Twelve
The trees were shrinking.
The sky-reaching sentries Vi had grown up playing and living in, the behemoths that had been at once a prison and playground and home, were slowly vanishing. It took Vi longer than she wanted to admit to notice, but when she did, it was all she could obsess over.
First, the canopy thinned, admitting sunlight to warm her cheeks. The feeling struck her oddly, but she didn’t make much of it. But then that same canopy looked as though it would come down right on her head—the trees shorter than she’d ever seen them. Finally, they disappeared altogether.
The North ended, and the West began.
Back during the War of the North, Western Firebearers had maintained the border actively. Now, just like the ring around Soricium, those scars left by man remained etched in nature, where jungle met desert.
Vi blinked into the oppressive sunlight, raising a hand off her reins and shielding her eyes.
“Welcome to the Western Waste,” Andru said from her right. He hadn’t said much since he’d ridden up in the morning, but Vi had appreciated the quiet companionship of her steady friend.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much sky.”
“Just wait until you see the view from the pinnacle of the palace in Solarin. The way the mountains carve a jagged line is stunning.”
“I think this sky is impressive because it’s not chopped up.” Vi swept her gaze across the desert. Like an alabaster snake, the Great Southern road wound through the dunes and cut across the sand, giving a solid path for their horses and boots in an ocean of gold.
“I can see how that would be a change for you.” Andru shifted in his saddle, avoiding her gaze. “But I assure you, you’re in for something magnificent this winter. When the mountains are covered in snow, they mirror the clouds in the sky and it’s like a never-ending horizon.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Vi said softly, hoping he didn’t notice the sorrow that had crept into her voice. She would never see that winter.
“Speaking of returning home, princess…” he continued, blessedly oblivious to her struggle. She’d been waiting for this. Vi knew what was coming before he said it. In fact, she was surprised there was still a good hour before they broke for camp for the day—he’d worked up the nerve in record time, knowing him. “I think you should make up with your brother before we arrive.”
Vi sighed heavily. But before she could even try to find an explanation for why things were tense, he hastily continued.
“This is what you’ve both always wanted. You each hold one another in such high regard… All you spoke of was seeing each other, talking, being reunited at long last, having the opportunity to learn of each other in person.
“He won’t tell me what caused such an immediate rift but I assured him—as I’ll assure you—that I think it’s completely natural for there to be some growing pains si
nce you were raised apart and now are learning to be together in person. You may have formulated opinions in your head that are different in reality. I know that’s true of him.”
She allowed him to finish. Andru wasn’t the lecturing sort and she was certain he’d been practicing this little speech. The least she could do was hear him to the end.
“Plus, you don’t want the Senate to see any rifts between you both.” Andru’s voice dropped lower. “They’ll find a way to capitalize on any perceived weakness, use it to cast doubt. I know my father would find every way possible to twist even the most innocent sibling squabble into something sinister. Being at odds will be good for neither of you.”
“I know,” Vi said, her voice just as soft. She looked over the blinding desert, lifting and adjusting the headscarf Jax had given her the night before to shield her face from the sun’s assault. “Tell me, Andru, do they love Romulin?”
“The Senate? Or the people?”
“Both.”
He thought a moment before speaking. “The senate understands Romulin. It’s no secret between us or anyone that the Senate is uncertain about what they want the future of the crown to be.” Vi resisted a retort that would do her no good. “But Romulin is a known entity—a safe bet, someone they can work with. Even if the Senate doesn’t consolidate power further, they can fully trust the person on the throne.”
“They don’t see me as a safe bet.” It wasn’t a question, so Vi didn’t phrase it as one.
“I don’t think they would’ve sent me if they did,” Andru agreed solemnly. “Apologies, princess.”
“You’ve nothing to apologize for.” Vi shifted in her saddle. “And the people?”
“Oh the people—court and commoners—love him immensely. They see in him the blood of your grandfather and great grandfather. Some say he has the wisdom of the last King Solaris, the strength of the first Emperor Solaris, and the kind demeanor of your late Uncle Baldair.”
“All very strong, very Southern men,” Vi murmured. A small smile graced her lips as her gaze focused on the flaxen haired man in question. It was good he had that much love. There would be much he’d need to bear in the coming weeks. Luckily Romulin’s shoulders were wide and they could handle the weight, she hoped. “The people’s approval would go far with the Senate.”
