Vi chewed on the inside of her cheek, keeping her expression passive. In her time, the tears in the shift had been enough to convince Noct hat she wielded a mighty power. If he didn’t give her the scythe, what proof could she offer him of her abilities?
Luckily, the scythe wasn’t her only mission here. There were other reasons Vi had sought out the Twilight Kingdom. One of them might just serve her now.
“Your highness, may we speak in private?”
“I will not leave your side with these strangers, Father,” Arwin said firmly.
Noct was clearly intrigued by the request. “Approach me, and whisper what you have to say in my ear.”
Vi ascended the dais and crossed to the throne. She leaned forward, cupping her lips around the king’s ear. Arwin inched closer, her hands on her spear, ready to attack. Vi didn’t point out how foolish the girl’s protectiveness was. If Vi had wanted to kill Noct, he’d already be dead. Instead, she whispered.
“Your daughter Arwin favors a boy named Fallor—or will soon, if she does not already. But he will betray the trust of your family. He will gain and take the knowledge of your sacred shift to Adela. They might have already gotten to the boy. Keep us here and I will use my knowledge as Champion to protect your daughter and your throne.”
Vi straightened away, Noct watching her carefully. She took two steps backward, bowed once more, and stepped off the dais to wait for his verdict.
The king stroked his beard, eyes settling on his daughter for a long moment.
“We shall go to the scythe now, and see if your words are true about your powers. If you are who you say, I will trust your other claims, and you and your companions will have rooms in the guest wing to stay in for as long as I see fit to host you,” he said finally.
Vi bowed once more, a smile creeping onto her face as she did. Her fingertips nearly crackled with the phantom memory of the scythe in her hands.
Chapter Eighteen
Noct ledthem down a series of halls and a familiar winding stair into a council room that Vi knew all too well.
The walls were stone, with vertical tapestries running from floor-to-ceiling depicting morphi champions standing victorious in battles. Weapons hung between the tapestries, the low light of the glowing stones above the center table gleaming off their polished edges. Taavin inspected one of the hanging pieces.
“Is this the battle of Marthas?” he asked, breaking the silence with genuine curiosity.
Noct paused, clearly startled, but a sincere smile spread across his lips. “Why, yes it is.”
“Marthas… when the elfin’ra finally surrendered?” Deneya had joined Taavin at the wall.
“Just so.”
“I didn’t realize there were morphi there.”
“Many don’t.” Noct chuckled, but the sound wasn’t warm or amused. It was sad. “Much of the morphi’s contributions to and alignment with the Kingdom of Meru has been expunged from common memory.”
The battle of Marthas, Vi silently repeated to herself. For a moment, her vision was hazed as what felt like memories played before her eyes. Memories Vi wasn’t supposed to have but found bubbling to the surface all the same.
The elfin’ra gathered on the large island in the watery center of Meru’s great lagoon. She could see the men and women surrounding them as if she’d stood there as well, the queen banishing them off to a distant isle and beseeching Yargen for the strength to seal them away. Vi felt her words as much as heard them—no, she didn’t feel it, someone else within her did.
Help came in the form of the last Champion.
“That’s Arnoch, isn’t it?” Vi said faintly. The attention was now on her. “The warrior depicted,” she clarified.
“It is.” Noct’s smile widened. “Impressive that you know your morphi history. Now, excuse me a moment.” He stepped around the table and disappeared through the door in the back of the room. Arwin lingered, eyes on Vi and hands glued to her spear.
“How did you know that?” Deneya asked.
“Yes,how?” Taavin repeated, much less amused than Deneya.
“I read it in the Archives when I was there, long ago,” Vi lied. She knew she hadn’t read it. But she couldn’t describe the imagery she’d seen. She didn’t even know where it’d come from. Just laying eyes on the carefully stitched picture sparked something in her that wasn’t entirely her own. Luckily, she didn’t have to elaborate further. Noct returned with the scythe, tightly wrapped in familiar purple velvet.
Arwin looked between them, but unlike the last time, the girl wasn’t bold enough to question her father.
The king placed the weapon on the table and undid the knots on the ropes holding the velvet closed. Even knowing what she was about to see, Vi’s heart raced in anticipation. She was ready for the familiar shining crystal, glowing with the power of the gods. It wasn’t until that moment that Vi realized she still carried the loss of the crown with her. She needed to feel a fresh surge of Yargen’s essence in her veins.
