“You’re still beautiful, if that’s what you’re asking,” he whispered.
A spark crackled in her chest and her magic seemed to feed on it. He grew brighter, more solid. For a brief moment, Vi could almost ignore the glyph swirling around her hand and focus solely on him.
“I bet you say that to all the princesses you have clandestine meetings with.” She should’ve just said thank you. But Vi had to reach for the joke. If she didn’t, that meant acknowledging the feeling that had flooded her whole body at his flattery.
“I’m afraid you’re the only princess I meet with…” Taavin looked out the window. “The only person, really.”
“Where are you, Taavin?” Vi looked at his hand on the bed, light dancing where there should be contact. If she tried to touch him, what would it feel like? Would he be warm like sunlight? Or icy, like the misty illusions Waterrunners made? Would he feel like anything at all? Fear of the last answer being no was what kept her from reaching out.
“I told you, I am in Risen.”
“No, I don’t mean that.” Vi slowly shook her head. “Where are you? Where do you live? Is it hot or cold there? What do you see out your window?”
“Ah.” He made the sound of understanding, but said nothing for a long minute. Taavin stood, strolling over to the window—though Vi still wasn’t sure if he could see through it. When he spoke, he didn’t look at her. “I live at the top of the Archives of Yargen.”
“Is that a place where they keep the history of the goddess?”
“All the history of this mortal realm.” Taavin looked back to her. “Every record of the world’s knowledge is kept here… Well, what can be found, at least.”
“That sounds…” Her heart raced with excitement at the mere thought of it. “Beautiful.”
“I’ve only seen it from the outside twice.”
“Why?” Vi asked delicately.
“Why do you care?”
“I want to know you,” she said simply, honestly. Since when had baring herself become natural around him? Perhaps it was her wounds making her too tired to care about pretense. “I want to know what your days are like. What you eat. What you see when you look out your window.”
“I see… I see a view not unlike yours, actually,” he said softly. “A city sprawling beneath me. Far enough away that it looks more like a painting than an actual home for living, breathing elfin. I see the terracotta spires of the gilded palace adjacent to the archives. I can see the harbor where Risen nearly runs into the sea… I can see the worn whitewashing of buildings hiding behind slatted wooden shutters that hang on rusty, weeping hinges.”
“The way you describe it makes me feel like I can see it too,” Vi whispered. She could envision those narrow cobblestone streets. The buildings packed too tightly together, like crooked teeth. But in her vision, her breath fogged the air, and snow lined the edges of walkways.
In her visions, it was Solarin she saw.
“I’ve spent a lifetime looking out that large window.”
“So have I.” Vi wished she could leave her bed and stand with him. She wished she’d summoned him not in her room, just once, so he could see the world beyond through her eyes… what little she had to show of it.
“You don’t seem quite so trapped.” He crossed back over, perching himself on the edge of her bed again.
“Then appearances are deceiving. I spend most of my days in these quarters… maybe out in the fortress to join Ellene for dinner. If I am on top of my studies and in everyone’s general good graces, I may walk the city below. But never freely, never without an escort. That’s the extent of my leash.”
His gaze was hard, closed off. For the first time, she wished desperately to know what he was thinking—but lacked the bravery to ask.
“If you are so sequestered… how did you obtain such injuries?”
Vi swallowed. This was the real reason she’d summoned him. It wasn’t to talk about windows or the worlds beyond. It wasn’t to lay eyes on his tanned skin and emerald eyes.
“Someone tried to kill me. Anelfin’ratried to kill me,” Vi hastily clarified before he could get a word in.
Taavin went very still. When he spoke, a protective edge limned his voice that Vi hadn’t heard before. “Tell me.” Vi obliged him—what little information there was. “They’re moving quickly…” he murmured when she finished.
“He usedjuth…” Vi started and then abandoned the question. Luckily, Taavin picked up her meaning.
“As I said before, the elfin’ra are splintered from the elfin. They know Yargen’s words, but twist them with Raspian’s power—as well as use words of Raspian’s own making.”
“Lovely,” Vi muttered. That explained the lightning Andru spoke of seeing before the man vanished. “There’s something else.”
