But the walls surrounding Mhashan had held for ten years.
“Then by my side you shall be. See to it that my brothers and sisters are protected by the best in your stead. Entrust the key to the old escape route to my brother, if need be.”
“What about your father?” Zira missed nothing.
“The king can defend himself,” Fiera said, deathly quiet. Her father had his chance to live for the people and refused. So she would let him die with his mistakes; his fate was on his shoulders alone. “Do not waste the loyalty of good men on him.” Fiera pried her gaze away from the weapon to look Zira in the eye. The woman had been with her now for four years and, from the start, they seemed to have a bond that transcended words.
Fiera felt fate keenly. She knew its pull, just as she knew when someone’s red lines were knotted to hers. She might not always understand the purpose right away, but the Mother revealed all in time.
“Understood,” Zira said with a small bow.
Without a moment’s more hesitation, Fiera lifted the Sword of Jadar and strapped it to her wide belt. It was cumbersome. But so were the trappings of leadership. She had born worse burdens and still walked.
Zira at her side, they left the castle together. A score of Knights joined them in the royal stables—right at the end of the long drawbridge that connected the castle to the city across a wide, dry moat. Fiera doubted her father would even raise the drawbridge. He’d convinced himself he was ready for this fight, ready to meet his end.
She, however, was not ready to meet hers. Someone needed to defend the people of Mhashan, even after they became citizens of the Solaris Empire. She held the sword that could do just that.
Fiera sought a life of service, not glory in death.
At the end of the drawbridge, their group of Knights met with another already there, filling in the gaps. They all wore red armbands bearing the seal of the Phoenix of the West, a sword clutched in its talons, emblazoned in silver. A crate had been carried out for her to stand on.
There were no cheers or fanfare as she stood atop the humble wooden box, looking out over those assembled. Fiera took a slow breath and clutched the leather-wrapped pommel of the sword. She tried to draw power from it—whatever power was left—so she could find the strength to do what must be done.
“People of the West, this siege has gone on for nearly ten long years,” Fiera began, her voice echoing off the buildings that lined the square. “But I am Fiera, Princess of Mhashan, youngest daughter to King Rocham, and head of the Knights of Jadar, and I have received a vision from the Mother above. The end is near, and we must be ready for it.”
Chapter One
“I cannot tellyou what the final outcome will be—the goddess did not bless me with this knowledge.”
Vi watched Fiera speak from among the crowd. She was still shaking, but no longer from the remnants of the goddess’s power surging through her as she was thrown through time and space. Now, she shook because of the face she stared at.
Fiera was dead.
The woman standing before her, speaking before her, had long been a corpse in the world Vi knew. It should be all the proof she needed that the goddess had, truly, remade a new world. But Vi’s mind couldn’t comprehend it. Her head ached just trying to.
“But I can tell you that it will end soon,” the princess continued to the blank-eyed, defeated masses. “We are feeding our soldiers and Knights with the last of the food stores, so they might better protect you. Whatever is left will go to women and children first, then all others.
“A curfew has been set on the city for civilians. Everyone is to be in their homes between the hours of one in the afternoon, until eleven in the morning.”
She could hear and understand the language of old Mhashan—Vi realized—a language she’d only studied a handful of times with her tutors and had been very far from mastering mere hours ago. She was able to comprehend it without effort.
Hours ago? Or had it been days? Or years? How long had she been with the goddess? How long had it been since Taavin—
Her mind stalled, hand instinctively going to the watch around her neck.Taavin. Her last memories of the man were clouded with hurt and confusion, punctuated by a fire that burned so brightly it consumed him.
“That’s only two hours we can be about,” someone murmured from Vi’s side.
“This isn’t a curfew—it’s more like house arrest,” someone else said, oblivious to her panic. They were all oblivious to her. Not one person had the slightest idea that a traveler from a distant time was among them.
“If you do not have a timepiece, or can’t otherwise accurately tell time by the sun, you are encouraged to err on the side of caution and remain indoors,” Fiera continued, ignoring the growing murmurs rippling through the crowd. When she spoke, the people stilled, as though transfixed. Fiera had a magnetic quality Vi could feel influencing her, even through her relative panic. “This is for your protection. The only people that should be in the streets are soldiers.”
Dawning recognition washed over Vi: Fiera was trying to prevent citizens from getting caught in the crossfire.
“You have one hour to collect what food and supplies you can before we all settle in for this long night.” Fiera drew a sword and Vi nearly let out an involuntary shout of surprise. Her hands flew to her mouth, suppressing a strangled gasp as the princess lifted the shimmering weapon above her head. “Flame burn eternal!”
“And guide us through the night,” the citizens around her chanted, going stiff with arms at their sides in a sort of Western salute.
Vi didn’t say anything. She didn’t mirror the salute. Her sole focus was on the crystal sword Fiera had lofted over her head.
