“Should we head back to the castle?” The question was genuine, and Vi appreciated it down to her toes. Zira had no reason to give her so much faith, especially not when her worries were ambiguous.
“No, I don’t want to turn us around for a mere feeling.” Vi shook her head and tried to shake the sensations with it, but they clung to her like leeches. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
The four made it without incident to the storehouses. Vi felt far better the moment she saw the Imperial guards standing out front of the large barn-shaped buildings. Vi and Zira walked a quick perimeter as Denja and Fiera consulted with the quartermaster. The whole affair took less than an hour and was blessedly over without incident. They were on their way back when bells tolled over the city, reigniting Vi’s paranoia.
“The citizens are allowed out for an hour after the bells,” Zira explained.
Sure enough, doors began to open and people wandered, blinking into the streets. They seemed dazed, their senses dulled by long hours cooped up inside. One by one, they turned their faces skyward; the sun was the first thing their eyes met, as if to burn away the haze in their eyes. As if to greet it like an old friend. For the first block, none of the people even noticed the princess in their midst.
“Y-Your highness.” A woman was the first to turn their way. “You are free.” She dropped to her knees.
“As I have always been. As are we all.”
“The conqueror… what has he done to you, m’lady?” another young woman dared to ask.
“Only steal my heart.” Fiera gave a smile so tender and warm it could melt ice.
One look, and Vi nearly forgot all her prior questions about the genuineness of Fiera’s love for Tiberus—only to have them rushing back even stronger. Did she have a genuine smile? Or was it the look of someone desperate to save their home—someone who knew the safety of her people depended on them believing a beautiful lie?
It wasn’t her business, Vi tried to remember. She was here for the crystal weapons. She had enough on her plate when it came to love.
“He has stolen your heart, and your fire.” A male voice cut through Vi’s thoughts. The little crowd collecting around Fiera suddenly seemed far larger as Vi searched for the speaker. “The Fiera who led the Knights of Jadar, who was truly blessed by the Mother above, would’ve never given into the false sun.”
Vi’s eyes settled on the man, who had short black hair and a closely trimmed mustache. Zira took a step closer to Fiera, situating herself between the princess and her detractor.
“You might not be able to understand,” Fiera said, keeping her composure rock-solid and voice as soft as feathers, “but I truly do love him. He brightens my fire. And I will ensure he protect us all.”
Motion from Vi’s left caught her eye.
Like a bull rushing forward, a cloaked man pushed through the crowd. Vi’s eyes barely had time to land on a flash of silver. Zira wasn’t moving and wouldn’t notice in time, Denja had yet to react, Fiera was looking the other way—
“Mysst soto larrk,” Vi hissed under her breath, moving as she spoke. She drew her hand across her chest, moving as though she was drawing the blade from a hidden sheathe in her sleeve. Vi hoped it was enough to hide the flash of the glyph that created the weapon she now held.
Steel met steel as Vi pushed Fiera aside, stopping the assassin’s blade. But the hooded man paid her no heed. Instead, his dark gaze swung to Fiera.
“You should’ve died with your father,” he uttered darkly. “Traitor.”
Chapter Nine
The words werethe man’s last.
The hand-guard of Vi’s dagger was flush to his blade. She slid it upward, the short pommel of hers butting against his. Vi used the force to beat the blade away; she had momentum, and the man was caught off-guard by the sudden assault.
Twisting, Vi threw her body into a lunge and sank her blade into his ear. As Vi withdrew, he crumpled.
She spun in place. Zira had already engaged the man who had first drawn their attention and had him on the ground in an instant. People were screaming, fleeing; chaos radiated around them, but Vi’s eyes scanned the windows and rooftops. The memory of the Knight’s attempt on her mother’s life at the Crossroads was suddenly fresh and—
Motion caught her eye.
Vi lifted a hand and sent a tendril of flame in a burst toward a rooftop. She used the motion to release her dagger back into her sleeve, the flash of fire and fabric hiding the unraveling remnants of light. Whoever had been on the roof darted away and didn’t return to the building’s edge. Vi linked arms with Fiera, briefly startled by how warm the woman was to her touch.
“Your highness, we must move you—”
“I will not be moved.” Fiera pulled her arm back, an offended expression at being manhandled briefly taking over her features. She spun in place, looking to the man Zira held at sword-point on the ground. The princess crossed over like a beast stalking prey. “Who sent you?”
“No one sent us.” The man narrowed his eyes at Fiera. “We didn’t need to be sent by anyone, because we no longer need a leader. We shall lead ourselves as we stand by our mission—to defend Mhashan from Southern invaders.”
“The war is over.”
