“No.” It was Vi’s turn to give Zira’s hand a squeeze. “I think you just did a very, very good thing.”
If Vi’s suspicions were right, she had just witnessed her first real opportunity to change fate.
Chapter Fifteen
Vi gazedup at the domed ceiling. A statue of the Mother held out a giant basin of fire that lit the entire cathedral—the second-most impressive structure in all of Norin. It was yet another piece of architecture that reminded her of the Archives in Risen.
Beneath the great statue were smaller ones of the Mother in various poses and expressions. Those statues melted into the relief sculptures of the Father that rounded the room. He looked up at the visages of the Mother above in yearning.
Vi inspected the tender face of the deity who would be Raspian. The sculptor knew nothing of the god’s actual likeness, just like the Dark Isle knew nothing of his real relationship with the Mother. All Vi saw in his longing eyes was a drive to once more subdue the goddess that ruled above him.
“So much history they don’t even know they’re a part of.” A familiar voice startled Vi from her thoughts. Deneya had seemingly materialized at her side. “Every time I come here it reminds me of home—in a strange, not-quite-right sort of way.”
“It’s a bit like a distorted mirror, isn’t it?” Vi murmured.
“That’s one way to put it.” Deneya glanced at her from the corners of her eyes. “Now, why did you summon me?”
“I need your help today.”
“Oh?”
Some Crones emerged from a nearby door, beginning to light sconces throughout the room. Vi walked in the opposite direction, keeping her voice so low it was barely audible over the echo of their footsteps in the cavernous space. “I need you to protect Zira.”
“Zira has always struck me as a woman capable of protecting herself.”
“The Knights are going to make a play for the sword. I had a vision.”
Deneya stopped walking. “When?”
“About two weeks ago.”
“You didn’t think to mention this when we spoke with Taavin last?” Deneya arched her eyebrows. The three of them had been meeting weekly.
“Slipped my mind.”
Deneya rolled her eyes. “Whatever you have to tell yourself. That’s between you and him.”
“Exactly,” Vi said firmly. Her stomach was still in knots because she had yet to tell Taavin of her vision, her slight maneuvering—encouragement—of Raylynn, or her bold plan. But this was her moment to spare Zira from an untimely deathandprevent the sword from falling into the hands of the Knights of Jadar. Asking for forgiveness would be easy when she succeeded. She hoped. “At the point in the ceremony when Zira lifts the sword overhead, she’ll be struck from behind. I need you to move through the crowd and counter the attack.”
“So just focus on Zira. Not Fiera or the sword?”
“I’ll worry about the sword and Fiera. Just save Zira.”
“Simple enough.” A smirk curled Deneya’s lips. “I always wanted to run circles around the Dark Isle dwellers with Lightspinning. But it’s against my code while I’m here.”
“But you’ll help me do this?”
“Of course. You’re the Champion—exceptions can be made for you.” And Deneya looked all too eager to make those exceptions. “Things were boring before you came.”
“Hopefully, if I do my job right… they’ll be boring again.” Vi’s attention was drawn to the main doors of the cathedral—the only entrance and exit onto the streets. As if sensing their discussion, Zira appeared. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Deneya fell into step, whispering hastily, “I have something else I need to tell you, when it’s all over.”
“What?”
“No time now.” She lifted her eyes, looking to Zira. “Good day, captain.”
“Good day, councilor. Is everything all right?”
