“You went out into the field of battle knowing that if you died, this world is doomed?” Taavin stomped over, though the floor didn’t so much as creak—his footsteps held no real weight. “What were you thinking?”
“I had to see it,” she said without looking at him. Her eyes saw that night, replaying its events. “I had to see it with my own eyes. It made all of this real.” She finally locked eyes with him. “Besides, didn’t you say the first thing I must do is get the sword?”
“Yes, but—”
“Well, I have a plan to do that now.”
“Is it just as reckless as your last plan?” Taavin frowned.
“I’m not sure if I should tell you. You might just scold me for it.”
“Yes, I’m going to scold you for risking your life when the fate of our world hangs in the balance.” Taavin gripped her hand, the touch a pale shadow of the intensity in his eyes. “Thinkabout it, Vi. One mistake and the best that can happen is this world is headed for another future of death. The worst? An age of darkness from which there is no escape—death of all things, the atrophy of our world, a perpetual midnight without stars.”
She squeezed his hand back just as tightly, looking up at his emerald eyes. “And if I do nothing, we are equally stuck in this loop, which is its own form of torture. I must act if I am to end this.”
“But do so cautiously,” he insisted. “Just telling someone the truth about yourself could tip the scales and change fate in a way none of us expect.”
Sighing softly, Vi turned away, feeling her brow relax. He wasn’t wrong. There was still so much about her predicament that she didn’t understand. But she knew that doing nothing wasn’t the solution either.
“Let me tell you what it is I plan to do next,” she said finally. “You have the memories of all my failures; perhaps you can help poke holes in my orchestrations to give me the best chance for success.”
She heard him breathe a sigh of relief.
“That, I can do.”
* * *
The last time Vi had laid eyes on the square at the drawbridge of the castle of Norin, it had been filled with the winners and losers of a ten-year war. Soldiers had held their heads in triumph and defeat. Now, it was filled with common folk and nobles alike. But the only soldiers were those in Imperial plate, bearing signets of the Solaris Empire.
Her layers of skirts swayed with her hips and flowed around her heeled shoes. Over her shoulders was a shrug; the ruddy feathers that adorned it reminded her of Fallor. In a dark way, it felt as though she was wearing the skins of an evil she’d vanquished.
Vi had managed a wash and found a mirror that enabled her to put a strategic plait in her hair. She’d woven the braids in a fashion her mother would wear for Imperial events. Most everyone else wore their hair down and loose, some swept theirs up with a simple braid wrapped through it. But none had quite the same intricate knots as Vi, and her style drew more than one look.
“Hear ye, hear ye.” A man stepped up onto a stage positioned at the foot of the drawbridge. Knights fanned out before him, swords drawn with their points driven into the earth. “It is my honor to bestow on you your first Imperial announcement.”
“Honor,” a man snorted from somewhere behind Vi.
“In six months’ time, your Emperor, ordained by the Mother herself to unite this continent, will be wed to the one much loved by the sun and much loved by your land.” The ruffles at the crier’s neck bounced up and down as he spoke. Each heaving breath carried his voice further than the last. “The Emperor Tiberus Solaris announces his betrothal to Lady Fiera Ci’Dan!”
Horns blasted and soldiers threw confetti into the sky over a confused crowd. Whispers collected to form a sound loud enough to be heard over the bellowing instruments. Frightened, concerned, and angry eyes sought each other out in turn. The commoners were less likely to keep their opinions to themselves.
“She would marry him?”
“The unbendable Fiera?”
“She was the leader of the Knights. Now she’s nothing but an Imperial whore,” the male voice from earlier muttered darkly.
At that, Vi glanced over her shoulders. But she couldn’t see who behind her might have spoken. Was it the angry-looking commoner? One of the nobles behind him? Someone further back?
Vi looked forward once more, trying to push the remark out of her mind. She’d heard mention that Fiera’s engagement to the Emperor Solaris had not been taken well. And why would it have been? Having seen the fall of Mhashan with her own eyes, she understood why the people were upset. Vi turned her gaze to the ground, wondering how much blood from the Emperor’s killings had flowed right where she stood.
Still, the horns continued their celebratory trill, as though the people were as excited as the shimmering bits of paper happily floating through the air.
“Now, now!” Everything quieted as the crier raised his hands once more. “Members of the court, we invite you to join the Emperor in his first soiree in this land, to celebrate this most glorious union. Those who are not of noble birth, fear not, for you shall also enjoy minstrels and food.”
“We do not want minstrels. We want our king—King Ophain!” a man shouted. “We do not want Tiberus’s blood-soaked charity. We want our free—”
The declaration was cut short with a crunch and gurgle that echoed louder in her ears than the horns had. Vi couldn’t see who had been shouting, but she knew he would never shout again.
