The well wishes weren’t enough. But nothing he could’ve said would’ve been enough. Perhaps he knew it too, because Taavin vanished without another word.
Vi swallowed hard, strode down the hall, and left out the back door of the inn, alone.
* * *
The castle was in chaos the moment she arrived. Servants sprinted from room to room. Some carried flowers, others were clerical assistants hauling towels and blankets; most carried food, to the nobles gathering in the main hall, or to the royals waiting in an antechamber not far from the Imperial quarters.
Vi didn’t have to ask anyone what was happening. It was obvious enough to her, even without future knowledge.
She trudged up the main, grand stairway of the castle. She ignored the inquiring looks of nobleman and servant alike, as if she’d somehow become someone who knew things the rest of them didn’t.
She’d thought that, hadn’t she? A bitter smile crossed her mouth. She’d thought she had the upper hand on all of them. Humility was a necessary elixir for her now.
“It’s only clerics beyond this point.” A young man stopped Vi in the hallway. He wore the usual pale blue of the Southern clerics. The same robes Ginger had worn. “There’s a place you can wait right down the hall.”
She’d seen the place. She’d ignored it. But Vi didn’t point that out. Instead, she smiled and said, “Thank you.”
Turning on her heel, Vi walked down the now familiar hallway, realizing this would likely be her last time. She ached all over, but it was hard to put her finger on the exact reason why. Was it because she’d warmed up to this place and its people? Or was it because it was another familial home she was walking away from?
Side-stepping into an alcove, Vi uttered a quick, “Durroe watt ivin,” and stepped into the skin of the young cleric she’d met outside of Fiera’s door weeks ago.
This time, when Vi passed by the man in the hallway, he merely gave a friendly nod and let her pass.
It was quiet in the Imperial chambers. Ginger had explained the birthing process well to Vi and she’d made it out to be a painful affair and understandably noisy as a result. But there was an almost serene stillness to the air. At least until Fiera’s snappish comments broke the silence.
“Out. Out with all of you, I’ve had enough of your prodding! I will summon you when the pains come with any kind of regularity. Now leave me be to what peace I can manage.”
Vi hastily stepped off to the side, positioning herself in a doorway at the end of a bookshelf. From this position, she was mostly concealed from the flow of clerics that streamed out of the room. Vi waited several moments to ensure there were no stragglers before she continued on to the bedroom.
The Imperial bedroom was as lush as Vi would’ve expected it to be. A bed large enough to fit four grown men was framed by a headboard that stretched halfway up the tall wall. A circular canopy was hung from the ceiling, the gold metal railing mirroring a crown, and supporting bolts of fine white silk fanned out behind the headboard. Pillows were piled high and would’ve dwarfed any other woman.
But Fiera remained imposing. Even amid all the excess, she somehow commanded the sole focus of anyone who entered the space.
Now, her angry eyes were turned to Vi.
“I told you all to get out. I understand what is happening to my body and will summon you when it is time or I am in actual pain. I have been stabbed through in war; I can handle a few contractions. Now, leave—”
Vi released her magic, allowing the illusion to dissipate like fog on the wind. Fiera, to her credit, didn’t shout or cry out. Her eyes narrowed slightly and her head tilted, as though she was trying to figure out what she had just seen.
“Come closer.” Fiera lifted a hand off her stomach and motioned to the bed. “Sit.” Vi did as she was bid and eased herself onto the edge of the bed. “Who are you, really?”
Vi gave the woman who would be the grandmother of a new Vi a sad smile. “That’s a difficult question, because sometimes I’m not sure anymore.”
She looked to Fiera’s stomach protruding like a massive hill underneath the thin sheet. In there was the man who would be her father.No, the man who would be the father to a new Vi. A new family she’d never known.
She still loved that man. And she always would. Just as she already loved the Romulin and Vhalla of her vision, and the Fiera that lay before her. Even though they were different people, they wore the faces of her family. They fit into the person-shaped voids left behind by the past world exactly.
“I’ve come from a time very far away… but one that looks very much like this one,” Vi said softly, bringing her eyes back to Fiera. Taavin had cautioned her against sharing who and what she was—and she never had in any time before. If there were ever a time, this was it. She was already deep in a mess of her own making; how much could being honest with Fiera hurt? “I’m not the same person I was, then. And tomorrow I won’t be the same person I am today.”
“Time is relentless.”
“In ways you can’t imagine.”
“That magic…” Fiera trailed off and winced. Her hands smoothed over her stomach and the pain seemed to have vanished as quickly as it came. She didn’t seem worried, so Vi wasn’t either. “Are you from the Crescent Continent?”
“What?” Vi whispered. This was shaping up to be a night of surprises.
“Tiberus told me about it not long after the wedding. Naturally, I didn’t believe him until I began rummaging through my father’s old records—the ones he’d always kept hidden. There’s little written, but there’s more than we think there. Tiberus thinks there are powers worth fighting for. Tell me, if he does fight for them, would he be successful?”
