Sovereign Sacrifice Read online

  Yet the sword’s strength was wavering. When the war started, her father told her where it had been hidden—slumbering, waiting to defend Mhashan—since the age of Jadar. Fiera had been the one to take the sword, learn what she could, and harness the latent powers of the crystal it was crafted from. Doing so had dulled the sword’s energy and nearly killed her.

  But the walls surrounding Mhashan had held for ten years.

  “Then by my side you shall be. See to it that my brothers and sisters are protected by the best in your stead. Entrust the key to the old escape route to my brother, if need be.”

  “What about your father?” Zira missed nothing.

  “The king can defend himself,” Fiera said, deathly quiet. Her father had his chance to live for the people and refused. So she would let him die with his mistakes; his fate was on his shoulders alone. “Do not waste the loyalty of good men on him.” Fiera pried her gaze away from the weapon to look Zira in the eye. The woman had been with her now for four years and, from the start, they seemed to have a bond that transcended words.

  Fiera felt fate keenly. She knew its pull, just as she knew when someone’s red lines were knotted to hers. She might not always understand the purpose right away, but the Mother revealed all in time.

  “Understood,” Zira said with a small bow.

  Without a moment’s more hesitation, Fiera lifted the Sword of Jadar and strapped it to her wide belt. It was cumbersome. But so were the trappings of leadership. She had born worse burdens and still walked.

  Zira at her side, they left the castle together. A score of Knights joined them in the royal stables—right at the end of the long drawbridge that connected the castle to the city across a wide, dry moat. Fiera doubted her father would even raise the drawbridge. He’d convinced himself he was ready for this fight, ready to meet his end.

  She, however, was not ready to meet hers. Someone needed to defend the people of Mhashan, even after they became citizens of the Solaris Empire. She held the sword that could do just that.

  Fiera sought a life of service, not glory in death.

  At the end of the drawbridge, their group of Knights met with another already there, filling in the gaps. They all wore red armbands bearing the seal of the Phoenix of the West, a sword clutched in its talons, emblazoned in silver. A crate had been carried out for her to stand on.

  There were no cheers or fanfare as she stood atop the humble wooden box, looking out over those assembled. Fiera took a slow breath and clutched the leather-wrapped pommel of the sword. She tried to draw power from it—whatever power was left—so she could find the strength to do what must be done.

  “People of the West, this siege has gone on for nearly ten long years,” Fiera began, her voice echoing off the buildings that lined the square. “But I am Fiera, Princess of Mhashan, youngest daughter to King Rocham, and head of the Knights of Jadar, and I have received a vision from the Mother above. The end is near, and we must be ready for it.”

  Chapter One

  “I cannot tell you what the final outcome will be—the goddess did not bless me with this knowledge.”

  Vi watched Fiera speak from among the crowd. She was still shaking, but no longer from the remnants of the goddess’s power surging through her as she was thrown through time and space. Now, she shook because of the face she stared at.

  Fiera was dead.

  The woman standing before her, speaking before her, had long been a corpse in the world Vi knew. It should be all the proof she needed that the goddess had, truly, remade a new world. But Vi’s mind couldn’t comprehend it. Her head ached just trying to.

  “But I can tell you that it will end soon,” the princess continued to the blank-eyed, defeated masses. “We are feeding our soldiers and Knights with the last of the food stores, so they might better protect you. Whatever is left will go to women and children first, then all others.

  “A curfew has been set on the city for civilians. Everyone is to be in their homes between the hours of one in the afternoon, until eleven in the morning.”

  She could hear and understand the language of old Mhashan—Vi realized—a language she’d only studied a handful of times with her tutors and had been very far from mastering mere hours ago. She was able to comprehend it without effort.

  Hours ago? Or had it been days? Or years? How long had she been with the goddess? How long had it been since Taavin—

  Her mind stalled, hand instinctively going to the watch around her neck. Taavin. Her last memories of the man were clouded with hurt and confusion, punctuated by a fire that burned so brightly it consumed him.

  “That’s only two hours we can be about,” someone murmured from Vi’s side.

  “This isn’t a curfew—it’s more like house arrest,” someone else said, oblivious to her panic. They were all oblivious to her. Not one person had the slightest idea that a traveler from a distant time was among them.

  “If you do not have a timepiece, or can’t otherwise accurately tell time by the sun, you are encouraged to err on the side of caution and remain indoors,” Fiera continued, ignoring the growing murmurs rippling through the crowd. When she spoke, the people stilled, as though transfixed. Fiera had a magnetic quality Vi could feel influencing her, even through her relative panic. “This is for your protection. The only people that should be in the streets are soldiers.”

  Dawning recognition washed over Vi: Fiera was trying to prevent citizens from getting caught in the crossfire.

  “You have one hour to collect what food and supplies you can before we all settle in for this long night.” Fiera drew a sword and Vi nearly let out an involuntary shout of surprise. Her hands flew to her mouth, suppressing a strangled gasp as the princess lifted the shimmering weapon above her head. “Flame burn eternal!”

  “And guide us through the night,” the citizens around her chanted, going stiff with arms at their sides in a sort of Western salute.

  Vi didn’t say anything. She didn’t mirror the salute. Her sole focus was on the crystal sword Fiera had lofted over her head.

  A sword that should’ve been long destroyed, held by a woman who should’ve been long dead.

  The princess left with her host of Knights. The rest of the castle guard walked through the crowd, encouraging people to disperse.

  She turned on her heel and pulled up the hood of the tunic she was wearing. It kept the heat of the afternoon sun off her brow, and it kept her from making eye contact with anyone. Vi stayed with the masses until they mostly disappeared and she was alone once more in an all-too-quiet street.

  A door caught her eye. It was unassuming, wooden, nearly identical to most others. But this one she remembered. Vi walked over slowly, running her hand along the wood. For some reason, this door stuck in her mind, vivid with the ghost of a white X that had been painted on it when she’d last been in Norin.

  “No White Death,” she whispered.

  “Excuse me, can I help you?” Vi jumped, looking over her shoulder at a young woman who stood behind her. She couldn’t be older than fifteen and carried a mostly empty basket—save for two tiny jars of what Vi recognized as spices and a hunk of dry fish meat. The young woman’s eyes widened. “P-princess?”

  “No, I’m—” Vi didn’t get a chance to finish before the woman was on the ground, head bowed.

  “Princess, you grace our humble doorstep. May I invite you in? What service can we give you?”

  “I’m not the princess.” Vi knelt down, pulling back her hood. Fiera’s hair ran down her shoulder blades, where Vi’s stopped just past her shoulders. The hair alone wasn’t enough, as the woman studied Vi’s face. It took longer than Vi would’ve expected for her to finally admit that she wasn’t the princess. But then again, a commoner like her likely had only ever seen Fiera from a distance.

  “But… you look just like her.”

  “I know, many have told me.” Vi reached out, grabbed the woman’s basket, and returned it to her. Every moment felt as though she was underw
ater, moving against the current.

  I’m not the princess. She wasn’t the princess this woman was thinking of. She wasn’t Fiera. But she also wasn’t a princess at all… not anymore.

  The crown princess, Vi Solaris, was gone.

  “What do you need, then?” The young woman took the basket, clutching it protectively, as though Vi had been trying to steal it rather than return it.

  “I’m a bit lost.” That was the best way to put it, though it was a drastic understatement.

  “Lost? What area of town are you from?”

  Vi’s mind retrieved a map of Norin easily from the depths of her cartographic knowledge. She could pick anywhere and make it believable. But she wasn’t from anywhere here, and picking somewhere at random wouldn’t help her. She needed a quiet place to get her thoughts in order, not an easy way out of this encounter.

  “I don’t remember,” Vi lied, rubbing her head for emphasis. She stood. “I woke up in a stable. And I don’t remember anything before then.” It was easy to inject the words with the slightest bit of panic and terror. She had more than enough of each to go around. “I don’t know where to go and I don’t know how to find out.”

  The young woman shifted, tucking a section of bangs behind her ear. “We don’t have anything to give you.”

  “May I just sit on your doorstep, then?” Vi asked. “Your second floor juts out slightly and gives some shade from the afternoon sun.”

  “Fine.” The young woman pushed past her. “Just don’t think of trying to come in.” She slammed the door shut behind her, and Vi was alone.

  She crouched down and sat on the stoop. Her hands worried the watch at her neck as her brain tried to organize her thoughts.

  An hour must’ve passed, for guards began to sweep through the city, telling the few stragglers on the streets that the curfew had come into effect and it was time to go inside. Just as Vi was about to use her Lightspinning to make herself invisible, a guard started her way and she cursed her luck. She couldn’t blink out of existence now.

  “You, it’s time to go inside,” the man commanded gruffly. Vi was focused on the red strip of fabric that circled his bicep. The symbol of the Knights of Jadar instantly unnerved her. But at this point in history, the group had yet to splinter and turn on her family. “Did you hear me? Go inside.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

  “Get inside,” the man repeated, pointing to the door.

  “This isn’t my home.”

  “Then go back to your home.”

  A bitter, raspy laugh escaped her lips. “If only. I don’t have a home.”

  “Please, I don’t want any trouble.” The man sighed and glanced over at his fellow soldiers. They had already moved on. “If you truly don’t have a home, there are shelters not far from the castle. I don’t care where you end up. But I can’t leave you out here. Anyone who’s not a soldier or a Knight must be indoors, royal orders.”

  Soldier or a Knight. She could fight. The thought hovered in her mind for a long second. Vi opened her mouth before closing it again slowly. Would she fight against her grandfather?

  On one side of this war was her grandmother, on the other her grandfather. Her heritage versus her Empire. Though it wasn’t even her Empire anymore. Vi let out a groan and held her head.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  The door at Vi’s right opened suddenly, the young woman from earlier in its frame. “She’s with us—I mean, she’s not. But we’ll take her in.”

  “What?” Vi wasn’t sure if she said the word in her surprise or just thought it loudly.

  “Come on, inside with you.” The woman grabbed her arm, helping Vi up.

  “See to it that none of you are caught out past curfew,” the Knight cautioned with a pointed look at Vi before starting along.

  “We’ll follow orders,” the young woman called back. Without another word, Vi was ushered inside a tiny foyer connected to a narrow stair. There were no other doors and the top landing was dark enough that Vi couldn’t make out much. The woman locked the door and leaned against it with a sigh.

  “Thank you,” Vi said softly.

  “Don’t thank me, thank Granny. She was the one who said I couldn’t leave another woman out there to fend for herself.” She looked Vi up and down and added with a mutter, “Though you seem perfectly capable.”

  “I still appreciate it.” Vi didn’t comment on her capacity to defend herself.

  “Well, show that appreciation by not making us regret it.” The young woman ran a hand through her short-cut hair. “The name is Lucina, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lucina.”

  “Do you remember your name? Or is that gone too?”

  “It’s gone too.” Vi didn’t know what compelled her to hide her name. No one knew of Vi Solaris in this world. Her name, however unconventional it was, would mean nothing.

  Yet that was precisely the reason why she didn’t want to share it. Her name was precious—the only thing that was truly hers that she still carried. Even the watch around her neck was different than the one she had received from Fritz. Her mother’s watch had been destroyed, the replacement from Taavin now hanging in its place.

  Call out to me. Some of his final words thrummed across her thoughts like fingers dancing on the strings of a harp. When you are settled, call out to me.

  “Well, I’ll need some sort of name. Can’t just say, ‘Hey, no-name girl,’ whenever I need you.”

  “How about Yullia?”

  “Yullia it is.” Lucina ascended the stairs. “Granny is sleeping, so don’t wake her.” Her voice had fallen to a hush. “Granny sleeps in the living area on the first floor. I have a room on the second floor. You can take dad’s old room.”

  Before Vi could inquire further, Lucina pressed a finger to her lips as they emerged onto a landing area that was utilized as a living space. There was a kitchen, a sitting area with distinctly low-profile, Western furniture, and a cot in the corner where an ancient woman snored. Lucina headed up a ladder in the corner to the floor above. Vi followed as silently as possible.

  “You’ll be in here.” Lucina opened the door immediately to the right at the top of the ladder.

  “Your father won’t need it?”

  “Dad’s dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vi said. But her tenderness seemed to confuse the young woman. “Did… I say something wrong?”

  “Half of this city is dying or dead. It’s weird to hear sympathies and I don’t want them.” Lucina shrugged and hastily changed the topic. “Remember, we don’t have anything for you. All you’re getting is a bed. If I even catch you looking at our food—” She drew a kitchen knife from her belt “—I won’t hesitate to kill. No one would notice or care about another body.”

  Vi lifted a hand, placed her fingers against the flat of the blade, and pushed it away. “I’m not going to give you reason to fear me,” she said firmly, locking eyes with Lucina. “I mean you no harm.”

  “Well…” Lucina hadn’t been expecting Vi to take the threat in stride. She tucked the weapon back in her belt. “See that you don’t.”

  The young woman started for the ladder and descended quickly. Vi made a point to close her door loudly enough that Lucina would hear it—but hopefully not too loudly that it disturbed the sleeping old woman whom she had to thank for this hospitality.

  The room was small. A bed, a chest at its foot. A narrow window, barely large enough to let light in, faced the blank wall of another building.

  Vi sat heavily on the bed, sinking her face into her hands, her elbows on her knees. An ache ran so deeply within her that she didn’t know where it stemmed from, or what hurt most. Physically, her body felt fine. No, great. Not even the scars from Ulvarth’s shackles marred her wrists. Yet her joints seemed to protest every movement, as if they carried an invisible weight.

  Quiet had never been so loud.

  “What is going on?” she whispered to no one. A hand dropped to the
watch around her neck. Magic pulsed under her fingertips.

  This watch—no, not this one… but a watch nearly identical to it had connected her with Taavin. It had begun this whole relentless series of events that had chewed her up and now spit her out in a place she had no business being.

  “Curse you,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands again. She didn’t know who she was cursing. The goddess, Taavin, fate itself? All of them, curse all of them, for all she cared. “You told me to summon you? Summon a dead man?” Vi laughed, a sound that was crazy to her own ears. “Fine, Taavin. I’ll honor your mad, last wish. Narro hath hoolo.”

  The words sparked in her mind, bright and true. Meaning poured from them into glowing lines of yellow light that spun from her like ropes of fire. They connected to form familiar glyphs.

  From those glyphs came the outline of a man—a man she thought she’d killed with her own hands. A man whose brilliant green eyes could not be dulled by the sands of time no matter how many times they were turned over.

  “T-Taavin?”

  Chapter Two

  He stared at her for a long minute before looking around the room, much as he always had whenever she’d summoned him. As though this interaction was perfectly normal and planned.

  As though she hadn’t killed him hours before.

  The facts compounded on the surreal nature of her current state, making it feel as though she watched him from outside of her body. Their roles were reversed. She was the specter, and he was the real person.

  Because nothing about her world could possibly be real right now.

  “I see you’ve found some quiet corner to hide in.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Where are you this time? I don’t recognize this place.”

  “I don’t recognize any of this.” Vi was on her feet, working to keep her voice quiet. The building was sturdy and seemed well-built. But Lucina and her grandmother would definitely hear if panic got the better of her and she began to shout. Vi took a staggering step closer to him. “Taavin… where are you? What’s going on? Are you all right?”