Chapter 3
THREE
Vivia Nihar stared at the doorway before her, a sliver of blue light carved into limestone. Lush ferns hugged it close, brushing their fingers against the edges. A snag of grapevines too, with their leaves fluttering on a salted breeze. Cicadas clicked in the thick foliage. A gull cried overhead.
And magic rolled over Vivia, moving in time to waves off the nearby sea.
Each caress made her hair stand more on end and her teeth grind inside her ears.
She knew of these doorways, but seeing one was different from hearing about them.
And having one simply appear overnight near Noden’s Gift was downright alarming.
“See?” Cam said, motioning with his floppy limbs to the light. “That’s it. That’s a door that’ll take you into the mountain. I don’t know where it will take us, exactly, but I’m pretty sure once we’re inside, I can find the under-city in Lovats.”
“Pretty sure?” Vivia’s eyebrows lifted.
“Very sure,” Cam amended. The boy had come sprinting into the captain’s cabin in Noden’s Gift half an hour ago, hollering about magic doors and secret tunnels and sneaking into Lovats, then Azmir with soldiers.
Then he’d half dragged Vivia and Vaness all the way to the seashore, just below the Origin Well perched atop its fox-shaped peak.
“It is … small.” This came from the Empress of Marstok, who stood on Cam’s other side.
She had lately taken to wearing a Nubrevnan-style blouse tucked into sailor’s breeches.
It suited her. Softened her imperial lines—as did the sea and tides nearby, always tugging her hair from her braided bun.
The only lingering reminder of her title and heritage were the iron bracelets she was never without.
Right now, they swiveled like snakes around her wrists. “I do not see how we can fit soldiers through there, much less the forces needed to claim back Lovats or Marstok.”
“Right.” Cam nodded as if he hadn’t just proposed they do precisely that. “Well, we could go single file. Then … you know: hope the doors don’t close up behind us.”
“Right,” Vaness said, mimicking him. “The doors closing up behind—a minor detail. Not worth fretting over.” She fixed her gaze onto Vivia, eyes hooded.
The heat of midday daubed color onto her cheeks.
“As you know, I have traveled these doorways, Your Majesty. So while I certainly appreciate and understand their utility, I also understand their dangers. For one, if we can use them, then so can the enemy—which, you may recall, the Raider King did do when he tried to invade Lovats.”
Of course Vivia recalled. And with stark clarity she’d prefer didn’t haunt her sleep most nights. Ragnor’s troops and his seafire had gotten much too close to destroying the entire capital. Her capital.
“For two,” the Empress went on, “as Cam has already pointed out, these doors do have a tendency to open and shut without warning. You and I have walked by this spot every evening for a month, and only now is there a magic doorway appearing.
“And for three,” Vaness finished, her voice regal and clear, “when I was in the mountain with Safiya fon Hasstrel and her Hell-Bards, the cavern was in a state of total collapse. Stones falling everywhere. Ice crawling and eating all in its path. It is not a space I would take anyone through, whom I wanted to keep safe. So not an army, and certainly not … you.”
Vivia felt her face warm. Her chest too, and she had to force a breath through her nose.
A big inhale that expanded her uniform and made old buttons wink in the sun.
It was hot in this uniform at midday, but there were appearances to maintain.
Vivia was queen, even if her father had fortified himself in Lovats and refused to give up the throne.
Vivia inched closer to the door. Magic scraped and tugged against her. With cautious fingers, she brushed aside a fern. Carvings appeared on the stone. Triangular shapes worn down by weather and time. Familiar, although Vivia had no idea why.
Think beyond, came a voice that sounded like her mother’s.
“Are you listening?” Vaness demanded.
“Hye, hye,” Vivia mumbled, although truth be told, while she’d certainly heard what Vaness had uttered, she’d also immediately discarded it.
Because this was the first change in fortune she’d had in a month.
Serafin had lifted the siege chain, sealing off all of Lovats in a magical dome through which no enemy could pass, and for weeks, Vivia, Vaness, Cam, and Shanna, the lead captain from Vivia’s Foxes, had tried to devise a way into the capital.
They could wage war directly at the Sentries of Noden, where the siege chain connected. Or they could send stealth units in through the Cisterns. Or they could turn their attention to Azmir and hope to reclaim Vaness’s throne first.
But none of it had seemed viable, so instead, they’d done nothing. And the sitting still was proving a very, very quick path to madness.
Serafin was holed up in a city with only limited provisions and tens of thousands of refugees from across Nubrevna. The citizens would starve if Vivia didn’t do something. Soon.
Wind snarled across her. Sand scraped her cheeks, and salt burned her nose. The ferns she held whipped and waved. “How do we know,” she asked carefully, “that this goes where you think it goes, Cam? Maybe it doesn’t lead inside your mountain at all.”
He winced. “S’not my mountain, Majesty. It’s the Sightwitches’. And … well…” He shrugged. “I don’t know where it goes. But I could walk in right now. See what’s on the other side, if you want.”
“And what if you step into a trap?” Vaness snapped. “What if this was all designed by the Raider King? Or by the usurpers of Marstok and Nubrevna? What if you find yourself a prisoner—or worse, dead? Then what, First Mate?”
Cam gulped.
“Or,” Vaness continued, the flush on her cheeks reaching her neck. Her ears. “What if this magic is simply fickle, as you yourself suggested, and the door seals up behind you? Then you will be stuck inside the mountain for all of time.”
Cam blanched, setting off the pale spots on his face. He looked sick. He looked frightened. “You’re … right. Of course you’re right, Your Imperial Majesty. I’m sorry I even suggested such an idea. I wasn’t thinking.”
Vaness’s iron faltered. “Well…” Her gaze flicked to Vivia’s.
And Vivia pursed her lips in a way that said: We discussed this, Vaness. You’re supposed to be nicer to everyone.
“You … should … not be sorry, Cam.” Vaness tried to smile. It was terrifying. “It was a good idea. In theory. Just one that I fear is too risky. But, I do appreciate you thinking in new ways.”
Think beyond, Vivia thought again, and she frowned once more at the door. At its bewitching glow. At the carvings she could almost—although only almost—swear she had seen somewhere before. Probably in the under-city or the Cisterns. Lovats had so many secret corners and ancient passages.
Including the underground lake surrounded by foxfire that only she knew about.
“We’ll station guards here,” Vivia said, finally withdrawing from the door. “I’ll let Shanna choose who—unless you’ve an opinion on the matter, Your Imperial Majesty?”
Vaness rolled her eyes. “Of course not, Your Royal Majesty. I trust your Fox captain to choose wisely.”
Vivia smiled and opted not to point out the thirty-seven times (and counting) that Vaness had very openly not trusted Shanna’s wisdom.
“Thank you, Cam,” she told the boy as she released the ferns and backed away from the limestone.
The magic’s charge receded. “As our esteemed Marstoki Empress here just said—”
Vaness sniffed primly.
“—it’s good for us to be thinking in new ways. So keep your ideas coming, please.”
“Hye, Majesty.” Cam saluted, fist over heart. “I’ll try.”
“I know, Cam. You always do.”
It had become their nightly routine to sit beside the Origin Well and watch the sun set over the Jadansi.
There were so many people who wanted a piece of Vivia’s time.
They demanded it even, these vizers and captains, sailors and soldiers and shop keeps.
Then there were the supplicants too—and the sycophants, whose flattery was more dangerous than their desires ever were.
So Vivia’s time beside the Well was sacred. No one, not even Cam, was allowed to interrupt it.
The Empress of Marstok always sat on a stool on the left; Vivia always sat on a stool on the right; and together, they watched the day end in the west and the night awaken in the east. The Water Well burbled behind them.
The sea’s breeze gusted ceaselessly, and the river that the Well fed into churned and chopped.
So much water. And all of it calling to Vivia. Listen to us, Little Fox. Use us and control us.
Vivia wished she could. Every hour, every second, the hunger ached inside her. A craving that could never be sated. A love that must remain unrequited. Come, Little Fox. Be one with us, like you used to be.
Vivia knew if she relented, it wouldn’t be she who was in control. Because that had already happened against the Dalmotti navy. It had been too much. Vivia and Vaness had barely come back from that deluge of water and iron taking over their minds.
So, ever since, Vivia had avoided the salty, enticing currents in the Jadansi shouting her name. She’d avoided the river and the Well just behind. She could be beside, but she could never go in.
How Vaness kept iron always upon her body, Vivia could never comprehend. Then again, Vaness was the Destroyer of Kendura Pass. Her power had manifested young, and perhaps the thought of being without the iron frightened her more than the thought of iron claiming her soul.
It hadn’t escaped Vivia’s notice how often Vaness rubbed at her Witchmark. A square tattoo for Earth and a single vertical line for iron.
And whenever Vaness rubbed, Vivia automatically did the same. Like right now, her thumb massaged the upside-down triangle with a wave inside.