“So they left to seek out a new world, kinder to them,” Vi finished, imagining ships of dozens setting out for a barren land—an empty continent without anyone to judge them.
She’d always been told that people in the Solaris Empire feared sorcerers for their magic because it was rare, strange, and dangerous. Perhaps the real reason they hated sorcerers so fiercely extended back past anyone’s memory. Extended toward the first peoples of the early kingdoms. People who held a deep resentment for magic—any magic—because it forced them from their homelands.
“And the Champion let them settle, either out of loneliness, or because he believed that these peoples without our magicks could be of no threat to the tomb.”
“But… Solaris did eventually develop magic.” Vi thought of the elemental powers of her home. “You called the magic of my land fractured…” Then, it dawned on her. “The Champion used the power of Yargen within him to split the staff into an axe, a scythe, a crown, and a sword—the Crystal Weapons of lore.”
“From the fractured magic of Yargen, new magic seeped into your world.” Taavin gave a solemn nod. “And that new magic, the lure of power, drew them to Raspian’s tomb long after the Champion had relinquished his mortal form by giving up Yargen’s power. It was her magic that was extending his life beyond the hold of time, and when he no longer possessed it, he left our world.”
“We turned Yargen’s magic against itself. We were the ones to destroy it,” Vi said in horror.
Everything made sense. Such loathsome, horrible, wretched sense. The fear of magic ingrained in people from the start, bolstered by the Champion’s warnings, and cemented by time. Conventional wisdom maintained that the crystals in the Caverns tainted people, perhaps as a result of a power mortal hands weren’t intended to hold. Or perhaps Raspian’s power was slowly escaping through them, and that was the source of the deadly crystal taint.
“But this means there’s hope.” Vi clutched the scythe tightly. “This is hope. In the ruins of old Shaldan, I saw a figure of a man and a woman fighting etched on the wall. I didn’t understand it then… but it was Raspian and Yargen. The likeness must have been made by those who remembered their story. Yargen wielded astaffagainst him. If this comes from that staff, then maybe we can fight him with it. Maybe we have a chance.”
“I can only hope.” Taavin looked from the scythe to the watch around her neck, then to her face. “I know that Yargen’s power seems to seek you out. And that the other living piece of Yargen is in Risen, with the archives. If there’s any information that will help us crack this—” his fingers landed on the watch “—and figure out a way to fight Raspian… it’s in Risen.”
“We’ll go there.” Vi closed her hand around his. The man’s skin was warm under her fingertips.
“As soon as we rescue your father.” Taavin’s fingers worked their way around hers, winding tightly together. A dull, sweet ache filled her chest. Even with the world on the line, he knew she would go to her family first. He knew her focus would be her father until Vi knew he was safe. And he was not doing anything to pry her from that task when he so rightfully could.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“Beginning to tell me everything.”
“There’s so much I’ve yet to say,” he murmured, his other hand reaching up to lightly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just afraid to say it.”
“Me too.” Yet, in saying that much, she knew what was unspoken for both of them. She didn’t need anything more for now.
“Just as I’m afraid I have already cursed you by it.” Taavin brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “I never wanted any of this to happen to you.” Remorse flooded his words. Vi gave a small, bitter laugh.
“Never?Not even when I was just the woman who supposedly tortured you in your dreams?”
Taavin began to protest, but stopped when he saw the makings of a grin on her lips. “Hush, that didn’t count.”
His thumb brushed over her lower lip, his eyes dipping half-closed as he watched the motion with delicious intent. Vi’s focus was shifting as well. The tiniest of touches flooded her with such bittersweet delight.
“If that doesn’t count, then you couldn’t have cursed me,” Vi said gently. “Because the red lines of my fate were drawn by the goddess long before you met me.”
He looked at her as if seeking permission. She tried to convey it to him as she held his hand tighter, as she leaned forward—awkwardly across the scythe still in her lap.
“Perhaps, we’re both equally cursed,” he murmured darkly, close enough to her face now that she could feel his breath on her mouth.
“Perhaps.”
They were from two different worlds. When it all was over—assuming the world didn’t end—she would still be the crown princess. He was still the Voice. They couldn’t be anything else to one another.
What does she matter to you?
Everything.
Their lips brushed, feather-light. His mouth quivered slightly, and a groan escaped him. Taavin’s fingers curled around her jaw and he pulled her closer.
The scythe was forgotten, sliding off her knees as Vi shifted her weight forward. He leaned back and she followed him. She couldn’t breathe if she didn’t know her lungs were in time with his. She couldn’t move if his hands weren’t on her. Taavin laid back on the leafy ground, Vi atop him. He was light and life and everything she’d ever wanted without knowing it.
She was clumsy and inexperienced. But what she lacked in confidence she made up for in enthusiasm. She allowed every shift, kiss, and caress to fill her, fuel her.
