by Kova, Elise
Vi obliged, but only reluctantly. She spun away before she really did try to throttle the woman. Vi ran a hand over her hair, smoothing away the pieces that had escaped the taut braid she’d woven through and around a knotted bun.
“All right, listen.” Vi looked back to Zira. “We can still fix this. You take the sword and go now, tonight. It isn’t safe in this city.” Especially not with Twintle on the move. “Go back to the Nameless Company once more, wait just a week or two to make sure no one is following you, then continue on.”
“And you’ll still meet me in Cyven?”
“Yes. I’ll find the sword wherever you are, have no doubt about that.” Even now, it called to her. Perhaps it was all the work Vi had been doing to further explore and manipulate Yargen’s magic. But she felt it even more keenly than before—even with it wrapped tightly in layers of leather, even without touching it. “I’ll leave now. Wait just a little, to let anyone following me do so, then you slip out after.”
“All right.” Zira nodded curtly. “Yullia, I was only trying to—”
“I know.” Vi met her eyes. “I know you were trying to protect our Empress. But you must have faith and believe me when I say that protecting Fiera is my current, sole goal. All of this is for her, and her child.”
“Very well. I’ll trust you, and meet you in the East.”
“Good.”
Without another word, Vi stormed out of the room. She barely resisted slamming the door behind her to punctuate the conversation. She knew she’d acted rashly. She understood Zira’s motivations. She’d apologize later. Right now, she was seeing red, and sparks were crackling against her hands. Her fingers were clenched so tightly they hurt. But Vi was afraid that if she unraveled them, her spark would get loose and burn the whole place down.
Vi emerged into the cool desert air and gulped it down like a tonic that would soothe the flames raging within her. She walked several paces into the street and stopped. Tilting her head back, Vi looked at the stars above and tried to relax the tension throughout her body.
A familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. “Are you all right?”
She didn’t believe for a second that he or his smug grin actually cared about her. Luke strolled out from the inn. Had he been in the bar when she’d entered? Vi struggled to remember.
“What do you want?” Vi asked.
“Is that any way to address a lord?” He arched his eyebrows. “I think not. It’s odd to see you in this area of town, at this time of night.”
“I didn’t notice you paid such close attention to my comings and goings,” Vi said flatly.
“I think people notice what you do a lot more than you give them credit for.”
“I’m flattered.” Vi started back toward the castle. She needed to get Luke away from the inn before Zira left.
“I’m glad I could flatter you. I do hope you have a good night, Yullia. I’ll see you at tomorrow’s council meeting. I can’t wait for Euclan’s report. The Knights of Jadar are becoming so infamous, next we’ll hear about them killing ghosts.”
Vi stopped dead in her tracks. She was so focused on her general annoyance with Luke, so overwhelmed with her hatred, that Vi didn’t realize what he had been doing—stalling. She hadn’t asked the right questions out the gate. Like, why was he there at this time of night? Or, had he followed her?
Her stomach went sour. Without another second’s hesitation, Vi sprinted back into the Hog and Bone.
The bar downstairs was as cheerful as it had been when she’d left. Though three patrons who had been hunched around the corner of the bar were now gone. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted upright.
No, no, no, her mind repeated over and over.
Movement at the very back caught her eye; in the alleyway behind the inn, the flutter of a cloak rippled in the dark before the door snapped shut.
Vi dashed out the back door and into the dingy alley. Darkness clung like grime in all the corners. Two men and one woman were arguing about thirty paces away.
“… payment and then you’ll have it.”
“Give it to me now,” the man on the right snarled.
Vi didn’t have to wonder what “it” was, given that the woman was holding the sword.
“Drop it and I’ll let you live,” Vi lied. She was going to kill them all.
The three turned. Vi’s heart dropped though her stomach at the sight of the woman. Across her forehead in place of eyebrows were three faintly glowing dots.
A morphi. There was a morphi in Norin.
“Juth c—”
“Juth mariy.” The man on the right stopped her magic, shattering it before it could form. He said to the woman, “Go, they know the deal.”
The woman holding the sword leapt into the air and the dark wings of a large crow stretched out between the pulses of magic. The Knight of Jadar stared, slack jawed, as she flew away. He blubbered, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed—until the other man uttered a quick, “Mysst soto larrk,” and cut his throat then and there.
“They said a ‘strange sorcerer’ was here,” the pirate said with a smile. “I assume you’re one of Lumeria’s?”
Vi didn’t even dignify him with a response. “Juth calt.”
The man crumpled, dead on the spot. Yet another from Meru who hadn’t considered all the creative ways Yargen’s words could be used. She looked upward, scanning the dark sky. But the morphi was already gone with the sword. And that meant—assuming “they could pay” as the pirate had said—it would be in the Knights’ hands before dawn.
Cursing aloud, Vi rushed back inside. She ran past the doors and up to the second floor. The door to Zira’s room was slightly ajar. Vi pushed it open to confirm her worst fears.
Zira lay dead on the ground in a pool of her own blood.
Vi was transfixed by the body, bile rising in back of her throat. It wasn’t for the gruesome way in which she’d died. But for what it meant.
Yargen will come for her life.
You can’t save everyone.
Some things are meant to happen.
Every terrible phrase Taavin had uttered in caution seemed to echo up through Zira’s gaping mouth. The woman’s wide eyes judged every inch of Vi for not heeding them.
The floorboards slammed into her knees as Vi collapsed. Her shoulders hunched and she dug her nails into the wood, feeling it splinter beneath her nailbeds. She exhaled ragged breaths, somewhere between tears and screams.
Chapter Twenty-Six
She had to move.
She had to pry herself off this hard floor and keep moving. The Knights were likely to investigate, especially when the sword was delivered short of one of their own and one of Adela’s men. But Vi was still barely managing to breathe. Her thoughts were jumbled.
“Narro hath hoolo.” The moment Taavin’s shoes blinked into existence, Vi blurted, “I messed up. I should’ve listened to you, to my father. I messed up.”
His knee met the ground before her, his knuckles hooked her chin, and Taavin slowly raised her face to his. “Tell me how this happened.”
It was a soft command, but a command nonetheless—as if he somehow knew that she needed his tenderness, but she also needed orders. They might be the only thing that kept her moving through the shakes that were still trying to take control of her limbs.
“Zira, she came back, the Knights, Adela’s men—” Vi stopped herself short, her eyes following Taavin’s to the dead body in the room. She restarted, “The letter was from Zira. I came here and met her. She’d learned of the Knights’ plot involving Adela and came back to warn me—for Fiera’s sake. She brought the sword with her.
“I told her to leave… but I was too late. I don’t know if the Knights followed me, or if they’d intercepted the letter and read it. For all I know, one of Adela’s men was the courier who delivered it—she seems to be good at using letters to her benefit.
“But by the time I realized, it was too late.”
�
�They killed Zira and took the sword,” he finished what she couldn’t say.
“Yes… There was a morphi who flew away—a crow. I’m sure they’ll bring it back to wherever the Knights are waiting and Adela will have her rubies and they’ll have the sword. Assuming she doesn’t just take it for herself.”
Taavin shook his head. He turned away from Zira, stood, paced to one end of the small room and back. He shook his head again, and again before grabbing it and letting out a groan as if he were in pain. “I thought… I really thought this was it. I let myself believe.”
“I can get it back,” Vi said, stronger than she’d felt in the past hour. Something about seeing him hurting, in pain, and doubting her brought her strength and conviction rushing back. He needed her to be strong and keep herself together. She was the one who could act and change fate. Vi stood. “I will get it back. I know their plan and I know where they’re going. I heard them talking about taking the sword to the Crystal Caverns at their meeting. Do you think Adela will help them further?”
Taavin, unresponsive, stared at Zira’s cooling body. Vi knelt down and gently pressed the woman’s eyelids closed. His gaze didn’t waver, and Vi wrapped one arm around his waist, guiding his eyes to her.
“I cannot imagine what you’ve seen. I know this is likely one more body on the pile,” Vi whispered. “But I need your help now. I need you to stay with me and help me fix this.” He finally nodded, clarity returning to his eyes. They were both on the cusp of falling apart, barely held together by each other. “In any of my past times, did Adela help the Knights of Jadar after they got the sword?”
Taavin pulled away and held out his hands. He mumbled words of Yargen and power flowed from her watch. Vi waited as he finished culling through all of his memories.
“They maintain a relationship with her, but they’ve usually only had one transaction at a time, then a longer stretch of time before the next.”
“She’s no doubt too expensive for them.” Vi thought about how hard Twintle had to work to salvage enough rubies to buy just a few of Adela’s crew. She looked at the blood-soaked floor again and hated that working with Adela had been a good investment for them. “It’s just the Knights and me. I’ll ride off and intercept them before they get to the Caverns.”
“If you can find them.”
“Good point.” The Waste was large and it seemed unlikely she’d know the exact path they’d be traveling. “Then I’ll go on ahead, and meet them at the Caverns. I’ll stop them from turning Yargen’s magic against itself.”
She started for the door, but was stopped by two arms wrapping around her waist. Taavin squeezed her tightly from behind. Always at her back, always defending and supporting.
“You know just when my bones are rattling,” she whispered. “And right when I need you to make sure none pop out of place.”
“I know you,” Taavin whispered back. “Good luck protecting our world.”
The well wishes weren’t enough. But nothing he could’ve said would’ve been enough. Perhaps he knew it too, because Taavin vanished without another word.
Vi swallowed hard, strode down the hall, and left out the back door of the inn, alone.
* * *
The castle was in chaos the moment she arrived. Servants sprinted from room to room. Some carried flowers, others were clerical assistants hauling towels and blankets; most carried food, to the nobles gathering in the main hall, or to the royals waiting in an antechamber not far from the Imperial quarters.
Vi didn’t have to ask anyone what was happening. It was obvious enough to her, even without future knowledge.
She trudged up the main, grand stairway of the castle. She ignored the inquiring looks of nobleman and servant alike, as if she’d somehow become someone who knew things the rest of them didn’t.
She’d thought that, hadn’t she? A bitter smile crossed her mouth. She’d thought she had the upper hand on all of them. Humility was a necessary elixir for her now.
“It’s only clerics beyond this point.” A young man stopped Vi in the hallway. He wore the usual pale blue of the Southern clerics. The same robes Ginger had worn. “There’s a place you can wait right down the hall.”
She’d seen the place. She’d ignored it. But Vi didn’t point that out. Instead, she smiled and said, “Thank you.”
Turning on her heel, Vi walked down the now familiar hallway, realizing this would likely be her last time. She ached all over, but it was hard to put her finger on the exact reason why. Was it because she’d warmed up to this place and its people? Or was it because it was another familial home she was walking away from?
Side-stepping into an alcove, Vi uttered a quick, “Durroe watt ivin,” and stepped into the skin of the young cleric she’d met outside of Fiera’s door weeks ago.
This time, when Vi passed by the man in the hallway, he merely gave a friendly nod and let her pass.
It was quiet in the Imperial chambers. Ginger had explained the birthing process well to Vi and she’d made it out to be a painful affair and understandably noisy as a result. But there was an almost serene stillness to the air. At least until Fiera’s snappish comments broke the silence.
“Out. Out with all of you, I’ve had enough of your prodding! I will summon you when the pains come with any kind of regularity. Now leave me be to what peace I can manage.”
Vi hastily stepped off to the side, positioning herself in a doorway at the end of a bookshelf. From this position, she was mostly concealed from the flow of clerics that streamed out of the room. Vi waited several moments to ensure there were no stragglers before she continued on to the bedroom.
The Imperial bedroom was as lush as Vi would’ve expected it to be. A bed large enough to fit four grown men was framed by a headboard that stretched halfway up the tall wall. A circular canopy was hung from the ceiling, the gold metal railing mirroring a crown, and supporting bolts of fine white silk fanned out behind the headboard. Pillows were piled high and would’ve dwarfed any other woman.
But Fiera remained imposing. Even amid all the excess, she somehow commanded the sole focus of anyone who entered the space.
Now, her angry eyes were turned to Vi.
“I told you all to get out. I understand what is happening to my body and will summon you when it is time or I am in actual pain. I have been stabbed through in war; I can handle a few contractions. Now, leave—”
Vi released her magic, allowing the illusion to dissipate like fog on the wind. Fiera, to her credit, didn’t shout or cry out. Her eyes narrowed slightly and her head tilted, as though she was trying to figure out what she had just seen.
“Come closer.” Fiera lifted a hand off her stomach and motioned to the bed. “Sit.” Vi did as she was bid and eased herself onto the edge of the bed. “Who are you, really?”
Vi gave the woman who would be the grandmother of a new Vi a sad smile. “That’s a difficult question, because sometimes I’m not sure anymore.”
She looked to Fiera’s stomach protruding like a massive hill underneath the thin sheet. In there was the man who would be her father. No, the man who would be the father to a new Vi. A new family she’d never known.
She still loved that man. And she always would. Just as she already loved the Romulin and Vhalla of her vision, and the Fiera that lay before her. Even though they were different people, they wore the faces of her family. They fit into the person-shaped voids left behind by the past world exactly.
“I’ve come from a time very far away… but one that looks very much like this one,” Vi said softly, bringing her eyes back to Fiera. Taavin had cautioned her against sharing who and what she was—and she never had in any time before. If there were ever a time, this was it. She was already deep in a mess of her own making; how much could being honest with Fiera hurt? “I’m not the same person I was, then. And tomorrow I won’t be the same person I am today.”
“Time is relentless.”
“In ways you can’t imagine.”
�
��That magic…” Fiera trailed off and winced. Her hands smoothed over her stomach and the pain seemed to have vanished as quickly as it came. She didn’t seem worried, so Vi wasn’t either. “Are you from the Crescent Continent?”
“What?” Vi whispered. This was shaping up to be a night of surprises.
“Tiberus told me about it not long after the wedding. Naturally, I didn’t believe him until I began rummaging through my father’s old records—the ones he’d always kept hidden. There’s little written, but there’s more than we think there. Tiberus thinks there are powers worth fighting for. Tell me, if he does fight for them, would he be successful?”
“Tiberus’s fate is decided,” Vi said as gently as possible. “He’s long since chosen his path.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say that Tiberus would eventually fall to another as thirsty for power and conquest as himself. He’d fall before he ever had the chance to attempt attacking Meru. Though, knowing what she did of Meru, that fact was likely for the best.
“I know.” Fiera’s eyes were sad enough that they said everything her lips did not. She knew the man she’d married. “And my son?”
“What?”
“You can see the future, can you not? Or was it all a lie?”
“I can.”
“Then tell me: what is my son’s fate?”
Vi took Fiera’s hand, wrapping her fingers around the Empress’s. “Your son will live a hard life. But he will grow to be a good man. He will be the kind of man who loves his family and his people fiercely. He will defend them at all costs. He will be the kind of man who will board a ship and sail into pirate-infested waters for the woman he loves.”
Her voice cracked toward the end. Sorrow flooded her and the only lifeline Vi had was Fiera’s hand. She clutched it tightly.
“Good.” Fiera’s eyes closed as an expression of relief overtook her. She seemed to sit easier on her pillows.
“You didn’t ask about your fate.”
Fiera looked at her once more, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t have to.”
