Vi watched Arwin shift her white-knuckled grip on the weapon. She was holding the spear so hard that it squeaked as her calloused hands rubbed against the polished wood. The woman seemed suspended in place by her own tension.
“How?” Arwin demanded finally.
“I will give you access to Ulvarth. I know where he lives and works. I know the people who attend him. And I know the back doors that connect them all.”
“You lie. No such back doors exist into the Archives of Yargen. The place is a fortress.”
Vi had never thought of a library as a fortress. Her image of the Archives, and just where Taavin had spent the majority of his life, were shifting faster than a morphi.
“The Archives of Yargen are old. They’ve been added to by countless Faithful over the years, each one more neurotic than the last. Each trying to find a new way to protect themselves, escape if needed, or slit the throats of their enemies as they lay sleeping.”
“Exactly—slit the throats of their enemies as they sleep. The Faithful are underhanded, so why should I believe you?”
“Because I am proof that such passages exist. It’s through them that I finally staged my escape.”
“Why would you have to escape?” Arwin seemed genuinely confused. “Why not just command your way out?”
“Because he’s been their prisoner for years, and hates the Faithful just as much as you do.” Vi dared to speak.
“Silence, you,” Arwin growled.
“I want nothing more than to see Ulvarth dead and the Faithful returned to a quiet order built around Yargen—not blood-lust or power.” Taavin stole Arwin’s attention again with the declaration.
She laughed, bitter and icy. “You’re a dog that would bite your master?”
“Let’s say my master didn’t spare me the rod,” Taavin countered with a dangerous edge to his voice. “You don’t get to beat this dog and expect loyalty.”
“Betrayers, the whole lot of you,” Arwin whispered. But she was also clearly weighing her options. Vi did the same, hoping they came to an identical conclusion.
Arwin could try to kill her and Taavin here and now—maybe she’d be successful, but she’d likely die in the process.
Or she could help them settle not only the score with Adela for the sake of her family, but slay Ulvarth as well, for the sake of her people. If she could muster enough faith in Taavin’s deal, she had far more to gain. In fact, Arwin would get everything she’d ever wanted. Except there was a loose end in Taavin’s proposal—
“And what about you?” Arwin asked, gaze intent on Taavin. “I could slay Ulvarth and you could find another just as ruthless to carry out your decrees.”
“They are not my decrees.”
“You are lying to save your skin!”
“He’s not!” Vi interjected.
“I said silence!” Arwin pressed the spear farther forward. Its razor-sharp edge biting into Vi’s throat was far more persuasive than words.
“Hurt her and die.”
Arwin’s eyes swung back to Taavin and the expression on her face almost had Vi wondering if she’d heard something Vi had not. A devious, deadly smile crept across her lips. “What does she matter to you?”
“Everything.” There was no hesitation. No holding back. “She is everything.” Arwin’s grip faltered slightly; the spear sagged as surprise settled in on her.
What are we?
Vi finally had her answer. She was suddenly too hot and too cold at the same time, keenly aware of the pain at her throat yet numb and tingling all over.
Everything.
She loved him. And he loved her… despite both of them knowing better. Despite neither being brave enough to say it in such plain terms. Those facts made no difference in the end. They had fallen in love despite themselves. They just had yet to be brave enough to say it aloud.
Taavin continued on as if the very world wasn’t shifting beneath Vi’s feet. Perhaps he was oblivious to it. More likely, his ground had shifted long ago. So had hers. She was only fully realizing it.
