“Your impulses have always been as wild as your flames.”
One side was her, the other was Yargen. Success or failure seemed to depend on if she was the one in control or not.Had Yargen been the one in control of that fire?
“I don’twantto act impulsively,” Vi murmured, dismissing the notion with a shake of her head. She had to move forward. “The least impulsive thing to do would be remove ourselves for a while and stop chasing after the axe. We know where it will ultimately end up and we can wait for it to arrive.”
“The Caverns.”
“Exactly. No matter how much has changed… I know Victor. The only time he’ll relent in his search for the power of the crystals is when he’s dead,” Vi said bitterly, her eyes still on Vhalla below. “Let’s allow fate to bring the axe to us.”
People were beginning to stream out of their homes. Vi noticed more and more turning in their direction. The windmill still burned.
“It’s time to go.” She retreated away from the ridge and Taavin followed her. They hiked down to their horse and rode through the familiar forest, back to the cabin that still stood at the foot of the Crystal Caverns.
* * *
The grip of winter was undeniable. It wouldn’t be long until the first snowfall of the season blanketed the entire mountainside. Vi sat at the entrance to the Crystal Caverns with Taavin, waiting as they had every day for weeks.
“What if they’re not coming?” she was finally forced to wonder aloud.
“They always—” He stopped himself short, realizing that referencing what had “always” happened was now unhelpful. “Maybe things have changed too much and Victor won’t go after the axe. We could go to them and see what’s been happening? There may be an opportunity to take it at the palace.” Vi chewed over this idea. “We’ll take the main path toward Solarin. There’s no way we’ll miss them on the way.”
“If we leave now, we’ll make it just after nightfall.” Vi stood and extended her hand to Taavin. “One last time to Solarin?”
He took her hand and Vi helped him up.
Sure enough, they made it to the palace in the early evening. Their gold was starting to run dry, but at least they had enough to board the horse. Vi and Taavin slipped into the palace—an act that was now second nature—and headed for the Tower of Sorcerers.
The Tower was quiet. Vi and Taavin moved unseen. She’d been planning to head to Victor’s office first—at least, until she saw a haggard man stumbling into the Tower library.
“Where are you going?” Taavin hissed as she tugged him in that direction.
“It’s Aldrik.”
“So?”
“Wherever Aldrik is, Vhalla usually isn’t far behind. She was the last one to have the axe, so it makes sense to check with her first.”
Taavin relented, and followed her into the library.
The crown prince swayed, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. He looked drunk, but Vi couldn’t tell for sure. He began rummaging through the shelves, picking up a book and dropping it heavily on a table before reaching for the next.
Just what had transpired here while they were waiting for the axe? Was the prince’s state some indication of foul play?
As if guided by fate, Vhalla appeared in the doorway. The young woman watched the man for a while, before announcing her presence with a soft, “My prince.”
“What—when did you get here?”
“Aldrik, what’s wrong?”
“Baldair. He’s sick, Vhalla.”
Vi watched the exchange. A rush of heat went to her head and her stomach churned, as though she was the one who was sick. She’d overlooked the first rule Taavin had taught her in these past weeks of waiting: Yargen always demanded her due. Even in changed worlds. The ink on the pages of some people’s destiny was long dried.
“It’s serious, isn’t it?”
“It started as a cold, aches, chills. It’s autumn fever.”
The two continued speaking, but Vi tuned out the majority of the conversation. She should feel grateful, she presumed. In her world, Baldair died the first time he headed to war. He’d been barely eighteen. She’d prevented that; now, he was twenty-two. She’d bought him three years. It hardly seemed like much of anything at all, but to the people who loved him…
