“I haven’t done anything brave yet.”
“I disagree.” Another step closer. “And I think what you are about to do—leaving it all behind for the sake of our world—is the bravest thing you could do.”
“Or the most selfish. I have a very vested stake in that world, after all.” It felt oddly uncomfortable to let the compliment from him stick. Especially when part of her still felt like leaving her Empire was the most selfish possible maneuver. Ultimately, the outcome of her gamble would determine how history remembered her: brave or selfish. Loved or hated.
“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late for you to turn back.”
“And leave my father out there? Leave a cure unfound?” Vi swallowed. Taavin had continued his approach and they now stood toe to toe. Her voice was quieter when she spoke again. “Never meet you in person? Touch you in person?”
Taavin lifted her hand gently, spreading his fingers against hers, palm to palm.
“This feels real enough to me.”
Vi opened her mouth, but words failed her. How many layers were there to that sentiment? More than she could pick apart.
Before she could try, there was a knock on her door.
“It’s my brother,” Vi whispered. “I want some time with him… alone.”
“I understand.” With that, Taavin disappeared.
“Romulin,” she said as she opened the door. He stood in simple nightclothes—loose fitting pants, a belted robe over a shirt—all in shades of Solaris blue and Imperial white. Vi was dressed all in black, ready for the road. “You came.”
“I did.” He looked her up and down, much as she did him. “You’re really leaving.”
“I am.” It wasn’t a question, so Vi didn’t attempt to dodge an honest answer. “Come in.”
“You’re going to die, too,” he mumbled as he entered. Vi glanced around the hall, seeing no one, and closed the door behind him.
“I’m going to find Father,” she vowed. “And a cure for Mother.”
“You’re just running away from the throne.” He frowned. It was harsh and callous… and, in its own way, completely right.
“Not intentionally so. Well, it’s not my primary motivation.”
“But you are, and you’re leaving me saddled with it.” He stormed over to the window, resting a hand on the wooden frame, staring out listlessly.
Vi studied him. She had been wrong—it added up in her mind all at once. Everyone wanted Romulin to sit the throne, but he’d never desired the honor. Perhaps all his careful advising was to ensure he would never be forced to assume the mantle.
Crossing over to him, Vi rested her hand on her brother’s shoulder, looking out the window also.
“You were made to rule,” she whispered. “You’re far more suited for it than I, and you have the support of the people. I don’t. I don’t know if I ever truly wanted the throne, or if I merely wanted the family that came with it.”
“If you want the family, stay with us—with me.” His voice was suddenly small, the command almost weak. “Aren’t I your family? Don’t I deserve family too?”
“You are—you do. That’s why I’m going to find—”
“Then why are you leaving me alone? Mother will die. You will die. And Father… Father is… If he’s not dead, he’ll die because you’ll die on the way to get him, and I will be alone. I won’t even have Andru. I’ll be forced to marry a woman to produce an heir because I’ll be the Emperor and that’s what’s required.” The words weren’t said in a fit of emotion or rage. They were uttered calmly and quietly as though they were facts he’d long since come to terms with. “Stay, Vi.”
“You know I can’t.” Her chest ached as it tried to contort in a way that would allow her to accomplish two diametrically opposed goals. “Please understand.”
“You know I can’t,” he whispered.
“You will in time,” she said confidently. Vi squeezed his shoulder. “Rule well until I return with Father. Keep the throne warm for him and me. Then, I promise I’ll take it back, and I’ll wed, and produce all the heirs the Empire could ever want so none shall blink at the notion if you run away with Andru.”
A smile cracked through his bleak expression.
“But please don’t actually run away, because I’m going to need you both to help me with that brood.”
