“Start with the wound, ‘Cia. Please, please try,” Aldrik spoke with utter desperation.
Elecia obliged, and Vhalla felt the other woman’s magic pouring into her. She felt it seeking pathways that had been broken and strewn to the winds, unable to knit the broken flesh and muscle. Her magic had been too damaged by the crystals. It would have to be fixed before any other healing could be done.
The woman must have realized it in the same moment as Vhalla, because she stood suddenly. “I’m going to try to find Sehra!”
Elecia had bolted out the door before any of them could react. She left silence and death in her wake. Vhalla blinked intensely. She wouldn’t leave now without saying goodbye.
“Aldrik.” He was at her side in an instant. His long fingers scooped up hers, blood smearing across his gauntlets. “I’m so glad I saved you, back then.”
“Don’t say goodbye, please.” He was close to breaking. He was fighting the obvious.
“I don’t regret it. I don’t.” She could only hope he understood, that something she said would be enough for him to continue on without her.
She was crying, Vhalla realized. The shining points of light of her memories illuminated the dark and tumultuous road that had taken her to this moment. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to give up everything she’d fought for.
The door opened again, and both of their eyes looked at the lone figure. The princess floated over to the two Imperials, looking much more rested than the last time Vhalla had seen her. Two emerald eyes looked between Aldrik and Vhalla.
“Sehra,” Aldrik pleaded. “Save her please, your magic, can it—”
“I understand,” she whispered. The princess kneeled next to Vhalla. Her focus was only on the Empress. “You did well.”
Vhalla was struggling to see. The princess faded, vacillating between her normal visage and something different. Hazy blurs and lines that didn’t quite connect. Long fingers, almost like Aldrik’s, cupped her cheek thoughtfully. The gesture was more forward than the princess had ever been.
“The crystals’ magic is diminishing. They were never meant to be used as they were, manipulated for man’s greed. They weren’t left with that intent.”
“What?” Aldrik asked Vhalla’s question.
“You saw them.” Sehra spoke to both of them, to no one. “They turn brittle and shatter under their own weight. They will be gone by dawn.”
“Princess, we need to act quickly,” Aldrik urged. “She’s dying.”
“I know,” Sehra said without hesitation. “Vhalla Yarl, after all that you have been through, do you still want to be upon this earth?”
“How can you ask that?” Vhalla opened her eyes. “Of course, I do.”
“Of course,” Sehra repeated softly. “Very well. I will grant you the power of Yargen one more time. I will change this fate set before you.”
The princess had a gently, almost motherly—familial— smile. She placed both hands on Vhalla’s face. Her whole palm tingled, and Vhalla felt the same light she’d experienced every time before.
No, it wasn’t the same. Sehra’s power before had been like a battering ram, forcing its way into her. This was familiar, like it complemented her. It flowed through Vhalla’s veins with palpable force. Her heart beat in time to it. Her flesh mended with it. Vhalla blinked, the red dawn flashing a moment in the woman’s eyes.
Whatever Sehra did, it worked. And when she pulled her hands away, Vhalla’s whole body felt warm, as though she’d been lying in the sun for hours. Her eyes fell back into focus, her breathing strengthened, her heartbeat regulated once more.
The princess stood tiredly, swaying slightly.
“Are you all right?” Aldrik took a step toward the young woman.
“I am, but time is short,” she answered cryptically. “I’m no longer meant for this world.”
Sehra started for the door. Aldrik looked between Vhalla and the Northern princess.
“Sehra, we can seek out another cleric.”
“No need.” Her hand paused on the door knob. Vhalla sat slowly, trying to make out the familiar glint in the woman’s eyes. “You did well, but things are only beginning now. The vortex still spins.”
“Sehra!” Vhalla was on her feet, not realizing how quickly she could suddenly move, how strong she felt.
“If that is the name you choose.” With those words, the woman vanished through the fogged glass of the door.
Vhalla looked to Aldrik. He was confused. Which meant it hadn’t been a dream or hallucination. He’d heard those words. That had been real.
“Sehra!” Vhalla cried. She threw open the door. “Sehra!”
A cleric looked over from the gate leading into the Imperial hall, confused at the Empress’s cries.
“Tell me,” Vhalla called. “Have you seen the Northern Princess Sehra?”
“I haven’t seen the lady for hours,” he answered uncertainly.
“Did you miss her?” Vhalla walked over quickly, Aldrik on her heels. “Could you not have seen her?”
“I have been here since the Emperor took you-you . . . Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Just now, someone left.” Aldrik looked through the garden.
“My lord, lady, I-I . . .” The man was clearly at a loss for words, incapable of giving them the answers they wanted. “I suppose, it’s possible, that I missed someone.”
“Vhalla?” Elecia’s voice called. Sehra, Za, Jax, and Fritz were in tow. The group that was to be Vhalla’s mourning party. “You should lie down!”
The Western noble crossed to her in a few hasty steps. Her hands were on Vhalla, but she barely felt them. Vhalla stared at Aldrik, and he met her eyes with equal confuson. There was no explanation that she could give him. Trying to explain the full details of her last, tragic encounter with Vi would be impossible now.
Magic glowing around crystals that had looked like feathers.
Fire that had saved her life by burning wheat.
And a final encounter in a garden of roses.
If that is the name you choose.
It was a series of dreams connected by an impossibility. Something beyond her world. A force greater than everything Vhalla had ever known. Something that would fade with time into a vague dream-like memory.
“Vhalla.” Elecia forcefully grabbed Vhalla’s face, pulling it back toward her. “What did you do? What did you take?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Then how do you explain this?” Elecia grabbed the front of Vhalla’s shirt and pulled it up without concern for propriety. There, on Vhalla’s stomach, was soft pink flesh where a mortal wound had been moments before. Elecia turned to Aldrik. “You were with her.”
“It-it must be something you did,” Aldrik inserted, grasping at any explanation.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Vhalla’s eyes met the princess’s. It was as though the Northern woman somehow knew. Her mouth curved in a telling smile, all the information the Empress would ever be able to worm from her.
“Maybe there was a cleric. We may have been misinformed,” Aldrik mumbled. He turned back to Elecia with conviction. “Elecia, is Vhalla—”
“She’s amazing!” Elecia had eyes as wide as a child in a pastry shop. “I must find who did this. They may be the best cleric in the world. She should be dead; there’s no reason for her to be alive and healthier than ever. I must find out what they did!”
Elecia dashed off, asking the same cleric Vhalla had just spoken to. She moved down the hall, one person to the next. But she wasn’t going to find anyone, Vhalla simply knew it to be fact. There was never anyone to find after.
“So, you’re not actually dying?” Jax leaned against the iron gate with a dramatic sigh. “And here I had the best farewell speech planned.”
“I guess it has to wait.” Vhalla gave him a small smile.
“Good, I couldn’t handle any more death.” Fritz threw his arms around her shoulders, and Vhalla clutch
ed him tightly. “Thank the Mother.”
Perhaps they had more reason than they all knew to thank the Mother, Vhalla thought to herself, briefly. One impossible and unlikely explanation of what had happened was just as good as any other.
“Grahm?” she whispered into her friend’s ear.
He just shook his head. Vhalla couldn’t translate his shining tears. Were they joy? Were they telling her not to worry now? Or were they world-crushing sorrow?
Whatever it was, Vhalla would be at his side to shoulder those emotions as well.
“My lady.” Aldrik’s voice was heavy with something that she couldn’t quite decipher.
She turned back to her lord. He held her gaze with every bit of adoration the world had been capable of producing. Vhalla’s arms slid from around her friend’s.
Vhalla turned to stand right before the Emperor. The man who she’d met as the Fire Lord, the aloof and distant prince. The man she’d fallen in love with. The man who’d been constant while she’d grown—side by side and even when apart.
They’d been pushed to the brink and pulled back again. Throughout it all, they’d managed to keep a few friends alive, but had lost so many along the way.
“What do we do now?” she breathed.
“Now?” He took a step toward her, crossing her personal space. Aldrik hooked her chin, guiding it upward. “Now, we rule, we live, and by the Mother, we get a bit of time to love.”
“Do you promise?” Vhalla’s hands curled around his armor.
“More than anything, this I promise.” The corner of his mouth pulled up into a one-sided grin.
He couldn’t look at her like that. Vhalla tugged him and kissed him before friend and subject alike as dawn broke upon the Solaris Empire.
WINTER FELL HEAVY in the mountains. Snow painted a thick white carpet across the barren earth, save for the hoof-prints and wheel ruts left behind the carriage. It was a large and unnecessarily lavish contraption, even by her standards; it creaked and moaned as it bumbled up the rocky mountain roads. A wheel snagged momentarily in a particularly large divot, which sent everything within the cabin lurching, a curly-haired Western woman included.
“Watch where you are driving!” Elecia stuck her head out the window, instantly regretting the decision as wind whipped about her face, blowing snow into her eyes.
“Apologies m’lady! It’s difficult to see with all this snow!” the driver called back.
Elecia sat back down in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. An Imperial summons. It had finally come to that. Her cousin and that crazy Eastern woman he had taken for a wife had been all too determined for months to get Elecia back South.
She plucked the letter from where it had slipped onto the floor. The words were hard to read amidst the jostling, so she quickly folded it, stashing it into the small leather purse at her side. Resting her elbow on the small shelf built upon the tiny door of the carriage, Elecia looked out at the winter world surrounding her. If they were going to be so stubborn, then she would dig her heels in as far as she could.
“I hate snow,” Elecia muttered to herself.
After the battle, Elecia had eventually returned to the West. She had stayed through the last Southern winter to help heal the remaining wounded soldiers and, upon Aldrik’s request, to help reestablish a clerical program in the palace. Elecia had, of course, bemoaned her sacrifice the entire time she remained there. But she kept it to herself that she actually had enjoyed having full control of how she thought clerics should be trained. When she left things were running smoothly in the capable hands of a particularly talented healer named Luzbelle.
It hadn’t all been smooth. Dissenters were still rampant through the winter and Jax, who had been made head of the guard, was busy trying to get the city—and Empire—back under control. Aldrik was often busy with Jax in that respect, and many nights Elecia had found the two men deep in argument over how best to ensure the continent was once more safe and loyal. It had pleased her to see that, even as things returned to normal, her cousin still avoided the bottle. She saw how he looked at it on long days, but Aldrik never touched it. Even when Jax gave in and sipped from his own glass.
The last she heard, Jax was being sent off to the East to help rebuild there. It was an equally personal mission as he went hunting for Daniel. But their last correspondence had painted a bleak picture on that front. It made her contemplate how he was doing on many an occasion. She wondered if he was back in the South, or if he had just decided to take up residence in Hastan. Elecia wondered, but she had a pretty good idea already.
Eventually, as what often occurred, people tired of fighting. The crystals had vanished, remaining as mysterious as they’d ever been. They had fractured and broken down, shattering under their own weight before turning to dust. It was as though all the magic had been exhausted, and Elecia couldn’t fathom how no matter how hard she tried.
The caverns had been crystal-free and filled with dust when Vhalla and Aldrik had sent Groundbreakers to check. Even still, they left nothing to chance. The Groundbreakers had collapsed the mountainside. One of their first Imperial decrees was striking the infamous place from all maps and records.
She hummed to herself, and a little smile crept upon Elecia’s face. She was looking forward to seeing them all once more. She allowed herself to enjoy life and be excited now. The last thing she wanted any of them to see was her enthusiasm at the idea of a reunion. Mother forbid they got the idea that she would stay longer than necessary. She had an image to upkeep.
However, the luggage strapped to the back of her carriage may betray her. Even her father had questioned the quantity of possessions she had brought. Elecia scolded him for thinking a woman could need anything less. He said little else, his focus fraying with her mother leaving for the North.
Things had actually progressed smoothly on that front. Last Elecia heard, Vhalla and Aldrik were struggling with breaking the news of the deal they’d struck with Sehra to their advisors and quickly recovering Senate. But the princess seemed ever patient, poised, and unworried. She was not a scheming ruler waiting at Vhalla’s bedside for a child. It reassured Elecia and her mother, who was the newly appointed ambassador. Despite the turmoil, things were moving toward peace.
Elecia stretched her legs, glancing out the window. She may have been able to walk to the capital faster.
The carriage door swung open as the wheels ground to a halt. Elecia hardly acknowledged the man who had driven her halfway across the continent. He had been so-so at best, she mused as she drew her cloak about her. It was a wonderful garment that had been specially made at her request, lined with thick fur, an inner layer of wool, and an outer layer of rich red velvet to keep out the chill—function and fashion. It kept her warm, she determined as she stepped off the metal rung onto the snow-covered ground of the stables.
Rebuilding had progressed nicely. The new stables were erected, and the decorative wood overlays looked to have been receiving their first coats of paint and gilding when the wet part of winter had set in and stalled work. She thought the wings over a certain horse’s stable were a bit much. But Aldrik always had a flair for the dramatic and overt symbolism when it came to the woman. As if he really needed to mark his territory; the woman only had eyes for him. The irony had never been lost on Elecia when her cousin was so secretive on everything else.
“Elecia!” a familiar voice called.
Fritz raced over to her from the palace stairs, darting from a side door. His hair had grown out, and part was pulled back behind his head in a limp ponytail. Elecia tilted her head. Somehow, the weight pulled out the wave and frizz and made it more presentable. It matched the formal clothes they had thrown him into, more befitting of his station than the shaggy cut he wore prior.
“It’s been awhile.” Elecia smiled. She had decided forever ago that Fritz was worthy of her smiles. But only if too many people weren’t looking.
“Too!” He threw his arms around her, and, were it not fo
r Elecia planting her feet to the ground with a small tingle of magic a moment before he reached her, she would’ve toppled into the wet snow. “Long!”
“You are making a scene.” She patted his back nicely before shoving him away with both hands. He could be as bad as an Easterner with his affection. A habit he’d no doubt learned from a certain someone. “Now, let me look at you.”
“Are you coming to see Vhal? You must be, right? I hear she’s refused all other clerics. Wait ‘til you see her! She’s—” Fritz was practically bouncing up and down.
“Yes, yes. I’m here to see our stubborn little Empress,” Elecia cut him off before he got carried away. With a small amount of amusement, she reached up and looked at the broken moon pin he had affixed to his chest. “Don’t you look official, Lord Charem?”
“Stop it.” Fritz pulled away with a laugh. He had been the hardest to convince to accept his new role in Aldrik and Vhalla’s world order. With Victor dead, a new Minister of Sorcery was needed. Once Vhalla got the idea in her head of Fritz filling the role, no one could persuade her differently. The woman was bound to have at least one or two good ideas.
“How have you been settling into it?” Elecia asked, folding her hands behind her back. Aldrik always looked so regal when he did so. She was the cousin of the Emperor and the Lady of the West in training; she had every right to look regal.
“Some bumps, here and there.” Fritz scratched the back of his head as they walked for the palace, Elecia’s baggage being unloaded behind them. “Not everyone agreed with Vhal on my appointment.”
“Power hungry mongrels, Fritz.” Elecia shook her head, sending the snow scattering onto the stone steps leading into the palace. “No matter what, there were going to be people clamoring for prestige in the aftermath.”
“That’s what Aldrik said.” Fritz sent snow scattering off his own shoulders.
“Aldrik.” Elecia glanced down, adjusting her cloak. It served to hide a small grin. It had always grated her cousin that a common born Southerner seemed to have little qualms addressing him by his first name without ever receiving express permission. Naturally, Elecia saw no point in correcting Fritz. Someone had to give Aldrik a hard time when she wasn’t around. “How is my dear cousin?”