by Kova, Elise
“Would you?” he murmured, his face close to hers.
“I would,” Vi whispered. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for years.”
“Really, this moment?” He arched a single dark eyebrow. “This moment where I’m naked in a cavern, a stone’s throw from Raspian’s tomb, holed up to escape the elements and figuring out how not to freeze to death?”
“Goodness, I forgot how annoying you can be in person.”
“No, you didn’t. You could just send me away when you wanted.”
“And now I can’t.”
“And now you can’t,” he echoed tenderly. Taavin reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered. They ran down her cheek, along her jawline, to her ear and back around the nape of her neck. His fingertips pressed into her and Vi tilted her head forward and up on command.
Their lips met.
Soft, was the first thought that ran through her mind. He was so soft. The thin barrier of magic between them was gone.
He was here. And he was hers.
Vi shifted, pressing forward until their sides were flush. He wrapped his arms around her while her fingertips spread across the unbroken, unblemished plane of his chest.
“My scars are gone,” Taavin whispered huskily.
“They are. Mine disappeared too when my body was remade in this world.” Part of her already missed every nook and cranny of his old body. “All the more reason for me to explore and discover this new form you’re in.”
His hand grabbed hers as it grazed over the raised muscles of his abdomen. Taavin swallowed hard and locked his eyes with hers. “Yes.”
“Yes, but?”
“Not here.” He glanced over her flames and toward the open door. “Not so close to him.”
Vi let out a groan of discontent. Taavin wasn’t wrong. But she wanted him to be. She wanted to object to his postponement of this inevitable and most delicious moment between them.
She pried herself away.
“Where are you going?”
“To get my horse.” Vi stepped through the flames.
“Are you sure you can—”
“You stay there and stay warm so you don’t get frostbite and ruin that body I just made. I’ll be fine. If anything was going to motivate me… this was it.” She gave him a wink, and marched out of the Caverns with purpose.
Vi practically flew down the mountainside. Her heart was pounding and her magic was thin. She could feel every ache in her tired body. It had been a long night, and the first makings of a gray winter dawn were on the sky by the time she mounted Prism.
She raced back up the mountain and rode Prism into the entry of the Caverns, his hooves echoing off every surface. Vi ignored the sensation of Raspian, now as clear as Yargen’s essence, permeating the entirety of the Caverns. She dismounted and rummaged through the clothing she’d packed. Luckily, unlike the last time she’d ridden out from a capital city, she was far more prepared for winter.
“Come on over.” Vi relaxed her magic and the flames vanished. Taavin appeared in the archway of the antechamber, clutching himself and bracing against the winter winds that blew in through the cave mouth. Vi held out a pair of oversized trousers—one of the few things she’d lounged in, the brief moments she had time for lounging—and then a woolen knit shirt that should have enough give to fit his taller, broader body.
“This is comical,” Taavin chuckled. It was a deep and rumbling sound, resonating within her more than anything else he’d ever said or done.
“I could never look at you and see anything but perfection.”
“You’re just trying to sweet talk me,” he said as she threw one of her older cloaks over his shoulders. All she needed to do was keep him warm enough to get back to the cabin. Tomorrow she could ride to Mosant and find better-fitting clothes for him.
“I am. Is it working?”
“Yes.” He caught her lips before she could pull away, his hands wrapping around hers.
“Good.” She stepped away, a slight sway and twirl to her step. “Now, let’s go home.”
She mounted first, he swung up behind her. Judging from how tightly he clutched her, Taavin didn’t have much experience riding horses. She’d take it easy on him if she wasn’t so worried about him catching a chill on the way back to the cabin. And if her lower stomach hadn’t become something molten hot at the sight of him.
They left the weakened Caverns behind and rode into the hours just before dawn. Clouds were gathering in the southern skies with what looked like the last blizzard of the season on the horizon. There were worse fates than being snowed in for a while, Vi supposed.
Smoke drifted into the gray sky from the chimney of the modest cabin. The windows splashed golden streaks across the snow. Midsummer was in the stable and it looked like Deneya had even found dry hay from their stores.
“Yargen bless, it’s cold.” Taavin’s teeth chattered. “Or is it just my senses being heightened in this new body after not feeling the world for so long?”
“Both, likely.” Vi and Taavin dismounted and she led Prism into the simple stable attached to the cabin. Trudging in the same line of snow as Deneya, she opened the door without preamble.
“How did it—” Deneya sat up from her bed, freezing the second her eyes landed on Taavin. She narrowed them slightly and tilted her head. “He…”
“I made him a body.”
“You… made him… a body.”
“I haven’t seen you this flummoxed since we first met.” Vi laughed lightly. She hadn’t laughed so much in months—years. Things were finally going her way. After years of practice and waiting and praying, things had gone right.
“People don’t make bodies.”
“Women do it all the time.”
“Firstly, babies don’t count for what we’re talking about here. Secondly, they don’t count because you made an adult man’s body out of thin air. Thirdly, do not dodge the topic.” Deneya stood, walking over to Taavin. She poked his shoulder lightly. “You seem a lot more real than you used to.”
“It’s an adjustment for me, too.” Taavin had a relaxed smile on his face, as though he’d just eaten a full meal. “I apologize that my presence might make things tighter for a while. You only have two beds here and—”
“You can share mine,” Vi interrupted without hesitation. Both of them seemed surprised, though Vi didn’t know why. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution to her. Perhaps neither expected her to be so brazen about it.
Despite what her body looked like, Vi wasn’t a blushing young woman anymore.
“Right, well…” A knowing smirk played on Deneya’s lips. She looked Taavin up and down. “Those clothes clearly don’t fit you.”
“They’re mine,” Vi said. “I was planning on going to Mosant tomorrow to buy some new ones.”
“How about I go now?” Deneya promptly grabbed a satchel off the peg by the door and shoved a few coins into it.
“You don’t have to. I can—”
“I really don’t mind going.” Deneya shook her head and gave Vi a pointed look. “It’s only an hour into town. I can ride leisurely, maybe grab a hot meal. I should be back by noon.”
Oh. A smile slipped across Vi’s cheeks. She understood now. And respected Deneya all the more for it. The woman was a true friend.
“Right, then, you should get off your feet. You look dead tired.” Deneya started for the door, pausing before she opened it. “Have a good, ah, rest.” She left with a wink and not a word more.
They were alone. Taavin and Vi stared at each other as the sounds of Deneya’s horse rumbled away. It didn’t sound like a leisurely pace. But Vi had every reason to believe the woman would slow as soon as she was out of ear- and eye-shot of the cabin.
“Does she always leave just before dawn to head into town?” Taavin asked.
“Can’t say she’s ever done it before.”
“So I should take this to mean she cares deeply about me and my new wardrobe?” H
e wore a smug, knowing grin. The look suited him. It’d look even better if it was the only thing he was wearing.
“I can’t speak for Deneya… But I can speak for myself.” Vi crossed the distance between them and rested her hands on his hips. “I think I care deeply for you.”
“Care deeply?” He arched his eyebrows. “Vi Solaris, I think you love me.”
“A bold claim, sir.”
“I’m pretty confident it’s true.”
She kissed the smirk off his lips, then trailed her fingers up his body. They caught on the hem of the sweater she’d given him and pulled upward. She’d seen him fully naked. No matter how much modesty she’d tried to offer him, it was impossible not to have noticed the naked man standing before her.
Vi saw no point in hesitating now.
She wanted him. She’d wanted him for years. She’d yearned to run her fingers up his stomach and chest and twirl them in his hair, to the point of dreaming about it for days on end.
Taavin broke away from her mouth and trailed sweet kisses down her jaw and neck. His palms mirrored the movements of her own. They ran up her chest, fingers quivering with hesitation.
“Touch me, for the love of every god, Taavin, touch me,” Vi groaned.
He obliged. His hands found their way up her shirt. The man’s touch was searing hot—hotter than the glorious heat melting her from the inside out.
Her clothes were on the floor and the mattress sagged beneath her. It reminded her of their first night in the Tower. Kissing him then, holding him as he held the crystal. Now, the crystal was in him, and he was with her. No limits. No holding back.
Vi gasped as he explored with his mouth and hands. Her breathing hitched as he found a particular spot and Taavin caught a moan with his mouth. It fed his already eager movements, quickening them.
When he pulled away he was as breathless as she was. “I love you,” he murmured.
“I love you,” Vi whispered in reply. The firelight was generous to his sharp curves, casting stunning shadows over his body as it hovered above her. She tightened her grasp on him as he shifted. The distance between them diminished to nothing. “I will never let you go again.”
“Please don’t.” He pressed himself against her, holding her tightly.
“I will save this world. And when it’s over, it will just be us.” It was a dangerous promise. Even if she could manage to save the world this time, she didn’t know where it would leave them in the end. Yargen’s magic was within him—in her—power that Vi knew they’d eventually need to return to see the goddess ready to take on Raspian.
Taavin sighed softly.
Pressing her eyes closed, Vi pushed the thoughts from her mind and bit his shoulder gently. She’d focus only on tonight and this release she’d been yearning and waiting for.
Delicious frustration built within her. She wanted him to move. She wanted him to be still. She wanted to sleep in his arms and do nothing. She wanted to do everything with him and to him.
“Let’s not talk about the world.” He pulled away, kissing up her cheek to rub the tip of his nose against hers. “Let’s just focus on our world tonight. Right here, right now.”
She nodded eagerly. And, as if he’d been waiting for that permission, Taavin moved, kissing her as he did.
Vi allowed her mind to go blank. For a few hours, she would burn hotter than the fire in the hearth, the spark within her, or the magic that remade the world.
Chapter Twelve
The War of the Crystal Caverns started with trumpets and the echoes of military horses clomping through the mountain pathways and valleys. It was just over a week since Aldrik and Egmun had left the Caverns, and the start of the war signified that it was time for Vi and Deneya—and Taavin—to leave their cabin behind once more.
As they passed alongside the military party, heading in the opposite direction, Vi reflected on her lessons from years ago.
The Solaris army would march to the Caverns and become transformed into monsters. They would blame it on the crystals, never knowing the real culprit was Raspian. The untainted portion of Solaris’s army would battle against the twisted version of itself for just over a year. Then, none would return to the Caverns for years to come.
In Vi’s time, the next man to head to the Caverns and seek their power was Victor. He would use the Cavern’s strength—Raspian’s strength—to stage a bloody coup. He was the man she was working to stay one step ahead of. That meant she had to leave the War of the Crystal Caverns behind her, in the hands of fate.
Vi’s focus was on the crown of the first King Solaris. They followed Adela’s path and headed south to Oparium in search of the crown.
The port town was nestled in a valley in the mountains east of Solarin. The coast of Lyndum was mostly cliffs, making this cramped valley the only place to construct a larger port. It was nothing compared to Norin, and barely a slip for dinghies compared to Risen. But it was the best port the early Kingdom of Lyndum had, and it was where Vi suspected Adela had escaped to after fleeing with the crown treasure of Solaris.
When she’d first laid eyes on the city, months ago now, Vi had been optimistic. The crown was either hidden here, or with Adela herself. She’d either find it, or narrow down its location with confidence once more.
Now, all Vi felt was frustration.
“Months, we’ve been here for months, and not a single lead on QA or the treasure,” Vi muttered. Southerners were even more superstitious about Adela than Westerners. Deneya had made the mistake of mentioning her name once, and their information gathering was near-instantly stinted. Now, the pirate queen was always “QA”—even when they were in the very back of what had become their favorite place to escape their shared hovel, The Cock and Crow brewery.
“It’s not like someone’s just going to come up to us and say, ‘You know, you look like people in search of an infamous pirate treasure. Why not follow me and I’ll show you where it is?’” Deneya quipped.
“It’d be nice if they did… or gave us some kind of lead.” Vi sank her chin into her palm, looking out over the brewery. It was as lively as it ever was, and haunted by the same faces. “Nothing changes here.”
“People are enjoying themselves after the end of a war.” Taavin stretched, leaning back in the booth beside her. “They don’t want excitement right now. They want stability and comfort.”
“A shorter lifespan really does give some perspective.” Vi envied them, in a way, for their ability to carry on dancing, laughing, and joking, ignorant to the world’s imminent demise.
“I’d argue the opposite.” Deneya took a long sip of her brew. “They can only focus on one existential threat at a time. Once that’s settled, the world is all right.”
“They can only do that because there are people like us to worry about all the others,” Taavin murmured.
Vi brought her attention back to the ale slowly growing warm in its flagon. She took a sip and refocused herself.
“What’s our goal tomorrow?” Vi produced the worn book, still filled with the maps Tiberus had gifted Adela years ago. Vi had added onto those maps over the past months. “I’d propose we head north through the tunnels.”
“Seems as good as any idea.” Taavin pointed at one of the winding tunnels. “You mean this one?”
“I was thinking so.”
“Might as well keep crossing them off one by one.” Deneya took a long drink. “Eventually, we’ll go through them all.” The woman met Vi’s eyes. “What if the crown isn’t—”
The door to the tavern opened and a rowdy bunch came singing in, interrupting Deneya. A noisy crowd wasn’t particularly uncommon. What made Vi turn her head was the language they were singing in.
The throaty tones of Mhashanese filled the tavern as they finished the last refrain and devolved into laughter. They continued to carry on, heading straight for the bar. The leader among them, a man with dark, spiked hair, ordered from the young woman behind the counter.
“A round of y
our finest for my crew.”
“Comin’ right up.” Maleese wasn’t bothered. Even though she couldn’t be much older than seventeen, the young woman was accustomed to bawdy sailors running amok in her bar. She’d clearly grown up among salt-crusted, curse-spitting men and women. “Not often we see Westerners in here,” she said on behalf of every patron in the bar who was carefully regarding the newcomers.
“We’re not Westerners,” the man said. Vi knew that voice. How did she know that voice? She fought to place it, shifting in her seat.
“I hear it too,” Deneya whispered over the top of her ale.
“Hear what?” Taavin leaned closer to say.
“The voice is familiar, but I can’t place it… I want to see the man’s face.”
“What are you, then?” Maleese set four flagons heavily on the bar and went back to filling four more from the tapped keg. “Look Western to me.”
“We’re Mhashanese,” the man said proudly. A notable distinction to make.
“Oy, Violet,” Maleese called over to Vi. It was the name she was going by now. “You Mhashanese too? Have I had it wrong this whole time?”
The man at the bar turned his head. Vi locked eyes with him.
He was older now, resembling more and more of his father by the day. The father Vi had killed with two words.
Hello, Luke, Vi thought darkly.
“You can call me whatever you like, as long as you keep the ale coming,” Vi said with a wink. A few of the other patrons gave her an approving nod or cheer in agreement.
Luke took his drink off the bar and walked over. He had a relaxed smile—more of an arrogant grin.
“Fiarum evantes,” he said to the table.
“Kotun in nox,” Vi replied deftly.
He paused, staring at her for a long minute. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t know how you would.” Vi shrugged.
“You look like a woman I once knew. But by now she would be…” He trailed off, and then shook his head, as if dismissing the notion. Luke had become a middle-aged man, and Vi still looked eighteen. Even if he recognized her perfectly, he clearly doubted his eyes. The man continued speaking in Mhashanese; knowing him, it was likely some kind of test. “Not common to see Westerners in the land of gold hair and snow fields.”
