Ulvarth would be at the trial, which meant he was tied up for at least a few hours. This was the perfect time for her and Taavin to work, though he was the last person she wanted to see.
She was up the stairs of the archives despite heavy feet, through the trap door she’d discovered during her last excursion, up the ladder, and worrying away the ring holding the lock on his door without so much as knocking. Vi allowed the padlock to clang as she set it aside, the only warning before she opened the door.
Taavin stood at the opposite window in all his heartbreaking beauty. He didn’t so much as look at who entered.
Vi hovered in the doorway, trapped in the snare of wanting to scream at him and, at the same time, flee. Freeing herself from the hold of fear, she crossed the small room to the man. His eyes—distant,different—drifted to her. They felt like the eyes of a stranger.
Things had been damaged between them and they both knew it. Vi held his gaze for a long moment.
“Listen.” She knew she had to be the one to get the first word in. “I am not here for you. We still have a duty.”
There was the little matter of the end of the world, and Vi would let him assume that was all she referred to. In truth, her treacherous heart still bled from the wounds he’d inflicted that her past experiences had only made worse. She still felt for him. She wanted to be ambivalent, but her emotions had yet to catch up to her mind’s stoicism.
A small part of her still loved him. And that terrified Vi more than anything.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Taavin said dully, leaning against the wall behind him.
“I met with Queen Lumeria.” Vi stepped away, pacing. She noticed the scythe leaning against the doorway to the flame. Good, they wouldn’t have to go hunting for it.
“Did you?” He looked back to the window, as if the sight of her was too painful.
“I think I know what we need to do.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, though Vi didn’t know why. “I think the watch holds Yargen’s power. We need to use it and the flame to give more power to the scythe. When Yargen fractured her power, giving the staff to the Champion, he later fractured it further. It is only a part of her power, and it’s too weak to stand against Raspian on its own.”
Vi turned away from the scythe to find him staring at her. “It’s not a terrible theory.”
“I’m glad it makes the high mark of ‘not terrible,’” Vi muttered dryly. “It’s far better reasoning than the logic you used before betraying me,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Vi, I—”
“Don’t.” She glared at him, equally angry now at herself for her own pettiness. “I won’t bring it up again and you shouldn’t either. We have to focus now… we can deal with all that later.” Of course, there might not be a later, which suited her well enough. She worked to get them back on track, trying to keep her venom in check. “I think the word the Goddess gave me was for the watch.”
“Youthink, or you know?” Taavin took a step forward.
“I know,” she lied. She didn’t have time enough to sit on this particular egg, waiting patiently for it to hatch. All she knew for sure was that merely thinking of using the word filled her with confidence. She was right; she had to be. Vi lifted the scythe and opened the door to the flame. “Come and hold this with me.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the Voice. You also have a part of her magic in you, don’t you?” Taavin gave a small nod. “Surely that’s important. We’re trying to collect as much of the Goddess’s power as possible.”
Taavin crossed over, grabbing the scythe around her hands. Vi kept him at arm’s length, but he still felt too close. She wasn’t strong enough around him yet—her mental defenses hadn’t been sufficiently fortified. Because her heart still wanted to love him—her mouth still ached to kiss him.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked softly, nervously.
“Yes,” she insisted. But his worried look got the better of her. “Why?”
“I have this weird feeling… as though I’m in two places at once.”
“What?” Vi remembered the same sensation the first time she’d seen the scythe in the Twilight Kingdom. “I’ve felt something like that around the scythe before.”
“Right. Perhaps it’s normal then.” He looked up at her, the soft blue glow of the crystal illuminating his face. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Vi took a deep breath, then a second, a third. Her nerves rose alongside the pounding of her heart with each stabilizing breath. She let her mind go blank, staring into the swirling magic of the scythe, allowing herself to feel the heat of the flame of Yargen.
“Thrumsana.”
Glyphs appeared from the watch on her chest. Layers on layers of them—just as Taavin had said. They swirled around them, filling the room with symbols Vi didn’t understand.
The voices she’d heard at the tears—whispers, cries, screams, songs, and shouts—filled her ears once more. The cacophony was softer than she remembered, sharper, but overwhelming to her senses as it seemed to flow through her.
