“No harm comes to my father while he awaits your trial,” Vi reiterated, confident she now understood the full terms of the deal. “You keep him safe, comfortable, and in quarters befitting his station.”
“You think you can order me, now?”
“I’m not ordering, I’m bargaining. Didn’t you say you had an offer? Well the offer has turned into a negotiation.” Vi rolled her shoulders back, standing straighter and ignoring the weight of the shackles trying to pull her down. “You keep my father and me safe and comfortable. When I have finished rekindling the flame, you allow us to go home without any other hindrances. You make no move against the Dark Isle or my family ever again. And then I will say nothing of my role here. I will let no one know that it was really I who helped rekindle the flame.”
Ulvarth’s expression soured like a too-ripe fruit. Vi smirked. He hadn’t expected her to figure his game and she hoped he hadn’t figured out hers.
Rekindling the flame had always been part of her mission. But so was figuring out the secrets of the watch and the scythe. Her arrival in Risen hadn’t gone according to plan, but she was where she needed to be—the Archives of Yargen.
Fate had yet to abandon her.
“Do we have a deal?” Vi tilted her head. “I do everything you need and you can take credit for all my work.”
“You think I need you that desperately?” he sneered.
“I do, because you are only pretending to be Yargen’s chosen Champion. You need me,” Vi stated with all the royal arrogance she’d avoided her whole life. “Do we have an understanding?”
Ulvarth was silent for several long breaths. Vi wondered if his heaving chest was a method to attempt to calm himself down. If it was, it didn’t seem to be working. But then again, he didn’t scream at her when he opened his mouth again, despite the bright flush in his cheeks.
“I think we have an understanding,” he said finally.
“One more thing.”
“You are a greedy woman.”
“Blame my royal upbringing.” She was in rags, covered in filth. He was on a gilded throne. Yet in that moment, Vi felt like the more powerful person in the room. “I need free access to the Archives of Yargen, and to that scythe.”
“You think I’m just going to let you wander with a weapon?”
“It’s required to rekindle the flame.” She had no idea what was required. But she wanted as long of a leash as possible. She wanted to get her hands on those books for more reasons than she had fingers and toes. And she wanted full access to the last crystal weapon.
“Very well. I will let you have access to the Archives. But take one step outside and you will not make it a second step.”
“And the scythe?”
Ulvarth considered for a long moment, slowly turning to the statue called Taavin. “The Voice shall keep it, and perform any necessary research. He shall report to me on his findings and, as needed, you shall have supervised access to him and the crystal weapon.”
Vi tried to keep disappointment off her face. The more she fought, the more he’d know he had something worth holding over her head. It’d give up the strength of her position. So instead, Vi kept her face passive, emotions hidden.
“Then yes, my lord. We do have an understanding.”
“You have one month to rekindle the flame. One month before my patience and kindness expire.”
Vi didn’t know what she was doing, so she didn’t know if that was long enough. Taavin had no reaction and gave no indication one way or another. He hardly looked like he was breathing.
“Now get out,” Ulvarth snarled.
She gave a bow, just for effect, and turned for the door. The scythe thudded dully on the dais beneath her as Ulvarth struck it twice, signaling for the knights on the other side of the doors to escort her away.
“Remove her from my sight and find a place for her in the Lark’s dormitories. Let them be forced to deal with her,” Ulvarth commanded. “And for the love of Yargen, clean her before she stinks up the entire place.”
Chapter Thirty
There werethree aspects of the Faithful, Vi quickly learned.
The first were the laymen—Faithful who studied Lightspinning and followed the teachings of Yargen but did little else. They were civilians. Followers, but not active participants in the structure of the Faithful. The laymen were scattered across Meru.
Next were the Swords. Vi had had enough of them for a lifetime. And, judging by how they shoved her into the care of a beady-eyed, sagely man, the feeling was mutual.
