“It’s a long story.”
“I think we have time.”
Vi took a deep breath, and as she let it out, the whole story poured from her.
It was a mess of emotion and facts, tangled together in a way she was certain barely made sense outside of her own head. The horrific visions of the world’s end fell heavy from her lips, the scenes of the dying men and women in the clinic tumbling alongside them. She spoke of Jayme, recognizing her own shock on her father’s face, her own anger at the betrayal in his eyes.
Vi finally spoke of Taavin. And, just like that, he transformed from her precious secret to a known person she held dear.
She detailed her trials on Meru, in the Twilight Kingdom, and finally on the Isle of Frost. Her father asked few questions, not because she was such a coherent storyteller but because he realized the telling was as much about catharsis as information-sharing. For the first time, she felt like all her burdens weren’t completely on her shoulders.
Vi’s voice was hoarse and ragged when she finished. Every detail had been explored and every truth confessed. Her father was the only person in the world other than her who knew everything.
When she finally laid down that night to sleep, Vi rested easier than she had in weeks.
* * *
Over the next three days, there was no word from Taavin or Ulvarth, which left Vi and her father to their own devices. The first day, Aldrik repaid the favor of her story with stories of his own. He elaborated further on the crystal weapons. He spun tales about his brother. And he told her stories about visiting the North when Vi was too little to remember.
On the second day they dared to ask for a deck of cards when food was delivered, both surprised when one was granted to them with dinner that night. So they played cards and discussed tactics, speculating what would happen when they finally got to Risen. The next day they discussed magical theories—not daring to practice—and played even more games.
Vi had never had so much time with her father all to herself and felt downright guilty for enjoying it. Their circumstances were terrible. But getting imprisoned with the Emperor seemed an effective way to secure his time and attention—attention Vi had never fully admitted she was starved for.
On the morning of the fourth day, they were woken by the same knight who had been bringing them food and leading them to the latrine. As usual, he strode in as though he were a god himself.
“Up with you both. We shall be anchoring off Risen shortly.”
Risen. This was the city Taavin had grown up in, and the capital of Meru. Curiosity swelled in her with every step up the stairs and back to the main deck.
Sure enough, in the distance was a vast city. It was settled among rising hills that sloped to the docks and down to a wide river that cut the city in two. On one side a large castle dominated the tallest hill. On the other, a circular building smaller in overall size than the castle stretched taller into the sky.
Without needing to be told, Vi knew that the two were the residence of the Queen of Meru and the Archives of Yargen. She knew it in their opulence, and in the way their very construction seemed to square off against each other.
A city of stone stretched out before them. Buildings were packed against each other so tightly that Vi had no idea how roadways fit between them. Every one was three or four stories tall and had a tile roof with metal gutters—not unlike the buildings in that long-ago first vision of her father.
She glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. His attention was still on the cityscape, and he was none the wiser. Taavin had said that her visions of the future were malleable. Had she changed the one with Adela? Or had the pirate queen taken him onto the beach before they’d arrived? Would he still end up in that square before the queen to bear witness to the plagued man in the cage?
Had she changed the designs of fate at all? Or had she merely played into the path that led to the world’s end? Vi grabbed the watch at her throat, nervous energy sparking across her skin, leaving goosebumps despite the warm air.
“It’s magnificent.” Ulvarth seemed to materialize from nowhere, leaving Vi to wonder what hole the snake had slithered from. “I imagine you’re in awe of it, coming from a land so… uncivilized.”
“It’s clear you’ve never been to Solaris, if you think us uncivilized,” her father retorted.
“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak,” Ulvarth said lightly, as if talking about the weather. “Do I need to have you fitted for a gag?”
Vi bit her cheeks, barely resisting the urge to rise to her father’s defense.
“Which reminds me… when we arrive, we shall proceed to the Archives of Yargen.”
At the mere mention of the Archives, she swung her gaze across the deck.Where in the Mother’s name was Taavin?What had been confusion turned to frustration, and now to worry. All this while, Ulvarth had been threatening to gag and chain them… What if he actually had done so to Taavin?
Surely he knew that Taavin had escaped of his own accord. His blaming her was to save face for losing the Voice. She couldn’t fathom the wrath Ulvarth harbored for Taavin.
While they docked, Vi looked for Taavin, continuing to worry over him.
Despite all Taavin had said, she realized she had vastly underestimated Ulvarth’s cruelty. And she should’ve spent her time aboard worrying more over herself rather than playing card games.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
