“There’s no way I wouldn’t have—so long as the Senate allowed.” He reached over, grabbing her hand lightly. Sorrow filled her brother’s eyes all at once. He took in a breath that hitched halfway through, but his words were level, not betraying the emotions Vi could palpably feel. “I’m sorry Father isn’t here.”
It was then that she realized her last letter to him had been sent before her visions. He hadn’t even known she was Awoken. There was so much she had to catch him up on.
“Brother, I need your counsel on that.”
“I know, there’s much that needs to be done. Your coronation—”
“No, listen,” Vi interrupted. He looked mildly offended, but she spoke too quickly for him to say or do anything about it. “Father’s alive.”
“What?” Romulin took a sharp inhale of air.
“Father is alive,” she repeated.
“How?”
“I had a vision of him.”
“A vision?” he asked, clearly skeptical.
Vi wasn’t sure where to begin, so she started all the way back to her training with Jax. She summed up her months working in the pits to the eventual Awakening of her magic. She told him of her visions, and even training with Sehra on the magic of Yargen—complete with a small demonstration ofdurroe. The only thing Vi didn’t mention was Taavin. He was the one secret she couldn’t seem to share with anyone and the fact filled her with a mild twinge of guilt as it brought her mind briefly to Andru.
When she finished, he was silent, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. Eventually, Romulin shook his head, ran a hand through his short-cut hair—shorter than she remembered from her portraits—and stood, beginning to pace.
“I’ve read about Firebearers, and their sight.”
“But I’m not—”
“Yes, you have this other magic, Lightweaving.”
“Lightspinning,” she corrected.
“And I don’t know about the visions that come with that…” he mumbled.
“I know this is hard to believe.” Vi stood as well. “But you must.”
“Why do you?” Romulin stopped suddenly, looking back to her. “Didn’t you say you rode off in pursuit of your last vision because you were worried that fate had changed? Why do you believe father is alive?”
Getting called out on illogical jumps by her brother in person was far worse in person than in letters.
“I just feel that… he is…” The small kernel of doubt in herself sprouted a small seedling that poked through her confidence.
“How?” Romulin shook his head. “And even if he was… Why would he not come back to us? Why not send word?”
“I don’t know,” Vi muttered. “Perhaps he can’t? Perhaps he was captured, or gravely injured, and that’s why.”
“What is more likely, Vi? He’s alive and none of our ships or search parties have found him. By some miracle he survived the pirate attack and now he merely hasn’t sent back word, even though he’s totally fine?”
“Pirate attack? I thought it wasn’t certain what—”
“The public reports leave room for doubt.” Romulin preempted her question with grave severity. “But a small vessel was cornered by one of the search parties. Most of the sailors aboard put themselves to their own swords—” Vi grimaced at the words. “—but one was taken alive. He bore the mark of Adela and swore he had information on Father.”
“Which was?” Vi asked eagerly. Romulin sadly shook his head at her. “The man was stark mad, Vi. He spoke of an island of ice and a ship of mist. He said Adela herself still sailed the waters.”
“But you said he had Adela’s mark…”
“That’s just a tattoo of a trident—anyone could get one, and most pirates do to strike fear in their enemies.” Romulin shook his head solemnly. “There’s no way Adela still lives. Stories of her date back to our great grandfather’s time.”
Vi sighed heavily.
