That was the sort of economic power that no noble should hold, especially not one with sadistic tendencies like Lord Vlacik. Yet it made her situation even more perilous; he was a true contender for the throne, even without her. He could likely use such debts to take control of the empire, and all he would need to face down was Ozik. In fact, his awareness of Ozik’s power was probably the only thing keeping Lord Vlacik at bay.
Perhaps that was why the lord was so hell-bent on understanding magic. It wasn’t just to weaponize it, but to defeat the Zetyr witch who stood between him and the throne. MaybeDominik’s partnership with Vlacik had been in service of that same goal.
Vaasa turned to the fight still ensuing on the platform. The younger boy had a peculiar fighting style, one far wilder than the older man he faced. It was almost… Icrurian. Quick. To the point. Deliberate gaps in his defense led his much older opponent into his next strike, leaving the boy always one step ahead. This was how Kosana fought, how Esoti moved. Longing almost broke through Vaasa’s careful composure—for the sight of those Icrurian warriors, for that salt lake in Mireh, for a place and a people that felt so much more like home.
The boy gave a quick combination with his hands and caught the older man on a right hook, which sent the man barreling down. The boy jumped on him, digging his elbow into the man’s throat, and the fight was over.
City guards jumped on them both, tearing the fighters apart. The young boy was escorted by a few guards out of the room, one of whom had assisted Lord Vlacik during Vaasa’s confinement. Her fists tightened. She remembered the sentinel’s dirty blond hair, his patchy beard.
She searched the crowd, eyes passing over each face she recognized. Once again, she found Lord Vlacik. Dressed in his Asteryan blue coat and black pants, iron broaches stark against his chest, he proudly displayed his identity. His vile, sharp blue eyes met Vaasa’s from across the room.
He grinned with all his teeth.
She could feel his hands on her. Feel the sharpness of a blade as he dragged it across her palm. As chains bit into her wrist. Cold iron chafed against her skin. The visceral memory of it might never leave her.
She had to control her breathing. Fight the urge to shake.
Vlacik bid the men around him goodbye, and Vaasa went still. Fear curled in her gut. Though she knew her father and brotherto be capable of cruelty, she didn’t believe them quite capable ofthis. Her flashback haunted her as Vlacik approached.
“Lord Karev,” he greeted the man next to her first—an expected gesture that reminded her just where she was. “Surely, this isn’t the place for an heiress.”
Lord Karev chuckled with an artificial friendliness, and the space between them grew tense. Two beasts at the top of a mountain, prepared to sink their teeth into flesh if it meant being the only one there. “I believe you underestimate her, then,” Karev said.
The way both men spoke about her as if she weren’t standing right there, as if she didn’t have a mouth to speak with herself, lit a fire in her. It took true restraint not to let a remark slip from her lips. Just as she had the night prior, she felt like a snake, shedding anything true or decent or real about herself. She was shrinking right where she stood.
But that fire didn’t die. The throne did not belong to either of these men. Not yet.
Another group of men was brought to the ring, and the raucous crowd picked up volume again. Vaasa’s heart wrenched. She remembered the combat circles she’d been a part of in Icruria, remembered how the training and fighting felt empowering when consented to. When it was done with people she trusted.
But this… it made her sick.
“I don’t believe she’s enjoying herself,” Lord Vlacik noted.
“I’d like to see you up there,” Vaasa suggested, narrowing her eyes on him. “Against anyone who’s lost a fight tonight. Betting on that is something I’d enjoy.”
Lord Vlacik’s eyes flared in anger, but he kept his mouth shut. Lord Karev, on the other hand, let out a barking laugh. The sound caused a few people to look, which turned Lord Vlacik a particular shade of vermilion.
“A pleasure, as always,” Lord Karev said before extending Vaasa his arm in a clear gesture that the interaction was over. Thathewas closest to her, and no one else.
Vaasa lifted her chin, taking Lord Karev’s offer. In this room, she needed to show no fear. No disgust. These people could turn on her quicker than she could think to stop them.
As Lord Karev guided her through the crowd, people turned to stare, watching them with shock in their features. Just by being here, she was signaling approval. If she had acted as she wanted, if she thought it would have made a difference, she’d have stormed out. But as she gazed around, she realized that an act such as that—to try and change people’s minds—was an act of love. Of grace. Of an attempt to save them.
And she did not want to save these nobles. She wanted to burn their houses to the ground.
Vaasa held herself with an air of power and dignity, shedding all signs of weakness. And Lord Karev lifted his own chin to match her posture. To the crowd, they likely looked in cahoots. And she realized that was Lord Karev’s intent all along. He’d brought her here for the specific purpose of undermining Lord Vlacik.
She had a begrudging respect for his political prowess.
She thought of Reid then, and a small voice in her mind whispered that the woman he’d found was still inside her. Sewn into her being, much like his leather tie sewn into her dress.
But where was he?
“Lord Karev,” a voice said over the reverberating sounds of the fight reaching a climax.
The lord spun with Vaasa still on his arm, pulling her with him. She came face-to-face with the owner of that voice—a woman, hair a stunning shade of red that was braided over one shoulder. Eyes of moss looked at them both, catching upon Vaasa for a visceral, stolen moment. There was only a flash of anexpression, something Vaasa couldn’t read, and then the woman was all business again. “Heiress,” she said, dipping her head in respect.
“Meet Sachia,” Lord Karev said, taking interest in the woman. “She is a fabric merchant, much like my parents once were. In fact, her family created your dress this evening.”
