“You’re wrong,” Vaasa snapped, her harsh Asteryan consonants making her sound so much like her father. “It’s boldof you to quote the authority of an archbishop who worships a singular, fictitious god while you sit there with my magic running through your veins.”
Ozik’s smile only widened at her show of anger. “Believers give deities their power, not the other way around.”
With this legal dissolution, Ozik himself was free to marry her; politically, it made the most sense. If he wanted to assure his own rise to the Asteryan throne, he would silence any naysayers if he invoked a law that already existed. “If marrying you is your suggestion, I will die first.”
Ozik’s nose scrunched in disgust and he shook his head, his white hair brushing his shoulders. “I helped raise you, Vaasalisa. There are certain evils I would never think to commit. You will have a choice. The lords will come, and we will remind them that you are the only legitimate path to the throne, and you will pick. Which useless son can we most easily bring to heel?”
Her arms went rigid at her sides. Resentment washed over her at this box she had been relegated to. “You’re going to marry me off? Again?” Once more, then, she was to be nothing but a political pawn for the Kozár name.
Ozik shook his head in frustration, his jaw tightening. “You see the world as a chain of events that have happened to you. It’s time you start looking at those events as opportunities.”
She glared at him, her untamable anger rising to the surface even though she could hardly breathe. The audacity of him, to claim her subjugation as a gift.
“I won’t do this,” Vaasa said.
Ozik raised a brow. “Perhaps you would rather marry Lord Vlacik? He’s kindly submitted himself as an option.”
Vaasa involuntarily pressed herself into the wall behind her. Her voice dropped to a croak. “Howdareyou.”
“He’s the last living inheritor of his title,” Ozik said. “And given that his first wife died before they could have children, you two could be of great use to each other.”
Vaasa sealed her lips in an attempt to fight off the bile rising in her throat. She worried her legs might give out beneath her. In silence, they passed in front of the city, no doubt gathering the attention of anyone at the port, especially as their boat sailed into one of the largest public docks.
Ozik stood from the table with grace, his white cloak falling over his shoulders. “The archbishop is waiting.”
Vaasa tightened her jaw. “What do you mean?”
Ozik crossed the cabin to stand in front of her. “With your marriage to Reid and the subsequent trade of salt, the floodgate between nations was opened. Along that trade route, the secrets of western Icruria spread throughbothnations. You did far too good of a job convincing the Icrurians of your power, Vaasalisa. Now, everyone in this city believes you’re a witch. It is your job to convince them you aren’t. To convince them it was Reid who cursed you.”
Vaasa gaped at him. “I won’t—”
Wretched pain tore through her abdomen, and Vaasa gasped. Through the blur of her vision and the tearing deep in her body, she stumbled forward, but Ozik used his free hand to hold her steady. That singular, tangled cord in her body pulled her up as if she were a puppet on strings. Vaasa choked down a sob of pain.
“With our bargain, I do not need any other access point to magic. I own your power. With you as a source, my abilities can be called upon whenever I want.”
Vaasa grit her teeth until hurt threaded her jaw. That meant escape was impossible—she couldn’t outfight a witch who wielded her own power.
“Fuck. You.”
The burning ceased. Disdain coiled across his mouth. “If we’re to have a chance, you must be willing to work with me. In time, you will understand that everything I am doing has a purpose.”
Vaasa took a breath. Ozik needed more than just her magic. He wanted to rule Asterya without the title, and she had to admit there was a layer of brilliance to his strategy. He would make all the decisions, take little accountability, and become as rich as an emperor, possibly more so.
Now that he stood so near to her, she studied his middle-aged features. He still looked youthful and alive, thanks to her powers. His skin held far more color than it had that day in Icruria, as if he had been healed from something wicked.
She rolled her shoulders back, tilted her chin up, and met his eyes, narrowing her gaze.
Ozik didn’t seem intimidated. “It’s good to know your spirit wasn’t dimmed by a prison cell. Now, come.” He turned and walked toward the cabin’s exit, taking each step with grace, his white cloak billowing out behind him as he gestured to the doors.
Vaasa stared at him for a moment, the thread of magic between them still running strong. She followed, cloak wrapped tightly around her, thankful for the winter sun poking through the clouds. A sentinel took her hand and guided her off the ship, a look of awe on his features that Vaasa didn’t understand.
“Heiress.” He tipped his head in reverence. When the panels of her cloak parted and he saw the tattered clothes beneath, he sucked in a breath.
Vaasa covered herself again, though from the corner of her eye, Ozik smirked.
The dock led them right into one of the city squares, which sat upon the edge of the water. The winter sun beat down on the open area, the granite of the surrounding buildingsshimmering in the rays of light. The Sanctum spanned one side, a large structure that held the chancery and treasury, along with other offices for influential members of the Asteryan court. The entire back half was under construction, iron scaffolding along the outer walls. On the opposite side of the square stood the cathedral, with a single spire so tall it seemed to tear right through the sky, coupled with a slightly smaller one that held a behemoth clock. The granite exterior of the cathedral was studded with statues of disciples—fishermen who acted as prophets for their Asteryan god, each one maintaining their own portion of the building.
In between those two grand structures, the ocean churning as a backdrop, was a stark iron pole.
