“A what?” Vi’s free hand rose to the watch. The magic stuttered with the motion and Vi fought to keep it.
“To communicate withnarro hathrequires an imprinted token of the other person.” He took a step forward, looking down at her over the narrow bridge of his nose. Vi studied his features—they were sharp, not unlike hers, but with a distinctly inhuman edge to them. “I had thought our communications were merely a result of our relationship as the voice and champion. But now I know this whole time it’s beennarro… How do you have a token of mine?”
“I don’t know,” Vi answered honestly.
“Is it because of this you were able to torture me all these years?” His voice deepened, becoming deathly serious all at once.
“Torture you?” she whispered in shock. “I wouldn’t—”
“Your voice haunts me.” The solemn statement stilled her. His eyes searched hers, as though he’d find answers there. “I know your face better than my own mother’s. You’ve reaped destruction on my mind with the mere sound of your voice. I lose days behind my eyelids and wake, only remembering your form.” His eyes fell back to the watch. “Why? Is it because of this? Or because you are the champion?”
He wasn’t lying. There was too much pain there for him to be lying. This wasn’t some joke or test. It was real suffering he had endured. Suffering, apparently,shewas responsible for. How had she not seen it until now? Why hadn’t he told her from the start?
Vi was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to help him, but she didn’t know where to begin.
“I’m sorry… But I don’t know.” She held the watch tighter. “This was a gift. It was my mother’s—not even mine until months ago.”
He looked away, toward her window. Vi wondered if he could see her room. For her, it was only him. Wherever he was remained hidden.
“Maybe she found it somewhere?” Vi suggested, taking a step forward. The light around her hand flickered again and his form almost blinked from existence.
“That would be quite impossible, as I have not stepped foot beyond Risen since I was a child.” There was a note to the longing in his voice that resonated with her own. She knew well what it was like to be trapped somewhere, tortured by things she could read and see through her maps but never reach.
“Where is Risen?” she asked softly.
“Meru. You know it as the Crescent Continent.” He turned back to her and once more Vi found herself transfixed by his ears.
“Are the elfin common on Meru?” Vi asked.
“You could say that.”
“How about vague answers? Are those common?” Vi frowned in frustration.
“That may only be me.”
The magic flickered once more. He blinked out of existence and Vi stretched her arm further, as if she could push more magic out that way. Taavin re-solidified, looking back to her hand.
“You’re losing strength.”
“I can manage,” Vi insisted. There was so much more she wanted to talk with him about.
“You’re lying.”
“And you’re a little annoying.” Vi didn’t expect him to smile at that, but he did. The shortest upturn of his mouth.
“Rest, Vi. If you’ve managed this connection now, it will be there still for you to continue bothering me with when you’ve replenished your energy.”
“I haven’t done anything to you—” Vi paused, then quickly corrected herself, “—until recently.”
He looked at her for a long moment. The argument Vi expected never came.
“You’re not what I expected you’d be,” he said softly, thoughtfully. His gaze was almost… tender. How could the same person look at her with equal measures compassion, skepticism, and pain? It was a mix of contrasts that shouldn’t fit together.
“I suppose it’s mutual,” Vi whispered in reply. “I didn’t expect you at all.”
They simply stood, staring, for a long moment. In him, Vi saw a portal to a world she’d barely imagined. She saw truth, and secrets of the universe she hadn’t fathomed weeks ago. And she couldn’t help but wonder what he saw in her.
“Does our deal still stand?” Vi asked finally. “Even though I have this supposed token of yours… will you teach me how to use this magic if I find the apexes for you?”
