Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

By the time the sun rose, they prepared to disembark in the breathing city of Dihrah. Vaasa could hardly hold herself up. Exhaustion beat like a drum, and her magic stirred, unsettled again. It did not immediately coil into a snake, something she attributed to the release she’d been offered last night. But it wasn’t quite dormant, either. It simmered just beneath her skin.

Before they joined the rest of the group, she discussed her intentions for the general. Not a word or indication of what had passed between them earlier. That was only another impossibility she needed to turn to water. There was far more on the line than just the election: the fragile balance between Dominik and Icruria sat upon a frayed rope that hung above her head—above all of their heads.

Dihrah was just as beautiful as she remembered it, though now awe pierced her heart where it hadn’t had room before. Gazing upon it stirred something in Vaasa’s magic—locations held memory, too. Dozens of waterways flowed through the enormous rainbow-toned city, curving bridges over the emerald-green water of the Settara. Arches and iron filigrees decorated the buildings dotting the skyline. And in the near distance, Vaasa spotted the giant spires of the Sodality of Una.

Crowds of people waited. Clusters of them lined the dock and the entire way to the High Temple of Dihrah. Their raucous cheers and hollers echoed all the way to the water, filling the chambers of the boat and Vaasa’s ears. Their soldiers in ceremonial garb flooded the dock, forming an enormous parade in rows of ten. The men and women of the Mirehan Corps, led by Kosana herself, marched through the street with their swords drawn.

The infamous coven of Veragi witches disembarked next, clustered together in the sweeping amethyst robes worn by the sages of Setar. As they hit the docks of Dihrah, the women each let out their tendrils of magic, the mist creeping along the pathway and hovering over the bottoms of their robes.

The crowd seemed to draw a breath all at once.

Such a display of power for Icruria’s favored foreman.

Isabel and Marc walked forward with their proud gazes sweeping over all they had helped rule for a decade, and then Marc turned with his palm open, sweeping up toward the opening in the hull.

To the Wolf of Mireh, his consort at his side.

The crowd’s cheers echoed off the boat.

Reid truly looked like a headman in his own right. His purple-draped shoulder swept against Vaasa’s when he looked down. “Ready?”

Vaasa nodded.

“Pretend you love me, Wild One,” he murmured, and she elbowed him for good measure. He shook with laughter and settled his hand on the small of her back.

And then they descended into the crowd, which roared at Reid and Vaasalisa of Mireh.

At the edge of the dock stood each contender and their consort, accompanied by their councilor. Reid and Vaasa were the last to arrive, which didn’t come as a surprise given the events of their last day. Vaasa first noticed Kenen and Galen, the two councilors each standing with their respective foremen. Their familiar faces were little comfort in this crowd, though. Koen, who hadn’t changed a bit since he’d bid them both goodbye that fateful morning, stood with the headman. The two seemed the friendliest of the bunch. The foreman of Hazut looked as though he believed they had a real chance at winning. But it was Ton of Wrultho who caught Vaasa’s eye, accompanied by his councilor, Hunt.

Reid immediately approached the group, dipping his head in acknowledgment at each contender and councilor, and Vaasa did the same. They went one by one, introducing themselves. The foreman of Mireh sped his pace and Koen came forward, the two embracing and warmth radiating from them both.

“Consort,” Koen said as he dipped his head to Vaasa, finally releasing Reid and minding the group. “Lovely to see you again.”

The two had hardly exchanged a word when they’d found her in Dihrah. Koen obviously knew her marriage was a ruse, but much like Mathjin and Melisina, he didn’t outwardly resent her for it. “You as well,” Vaasa said.

“The foreman who won a Veragi witch for his wife,” said an unfamiliar man who approached from behind the umber foreman of Dihrah. He appeared open and approachable, with dark skin highlighting the glimmers of gold and brown in his eyes.

“When did you start calling me by my title, Kier?” Reid asked with a friendly, laid-back laugh.

Kier. As in, Headman Kier of Icruria.

“An honor to meet you,” Vaasa said with a heavy dip of her head. Kier grinned and bowed away, giving space for the contenders. Swiftly, they greeted their competition from Hazut, and Vaasa’s heart started to pound.

As they approached, an enormous man sauntered forward with large swinging shoulders that looked like they might very well knock over anyone who stood in his way. The dock shook with his footsteps. Ink in the toothed markings of Icruria climbed the side of his face and onto his shaved scalp.

Ton of Wrultho. The current foreman of Wrultho.

Without bothering to gaze at Reid, eyes so orange they rivaled the sun settled harshly on Vaasa. Isabel suddenly slid to her side, lifting a hand and laying it protectively upon her arm. Marc shifted his weight next to Isabel but didn’t utter a word—he’d told Reid he planned as much, ensuring Reid knew that he would look weak if he allowed Marc to pretend to be in charge.

Behind Ton, another man walked to meet them, and though she didn’t think it possible, he looked even less friendly than Ton. Gazing at the enormous boat looming behind them all, the man straightened his back.

Hunt of Wrultho, the reigning councilor.

Reid had properly informed her of everything she’d need to know about this man before stepping onto this dock, starting with Hunt’s close relationship to the advisor Vaasa bargained with all those years ago. To their luck, that particular woman didn’t seem to be waiting for them.

Hunt’s term as foreman ended when he lost the headman vote and became a councilor, and Ton had taken his place shortly after in a legendary display of skill and strength. While Mireh elected their foreman through a diverse tourney of strength in which the population voted, Wrultho had a far simpler way of choosing their leader.

A fight to the death.

Ton had claimed victory, and as Vaasa looked up and down his enormous body and withering gaze, she understood why. Though Mireh elected a foreman twice in the headman cycle, Wrultho did not. Ton had served since Hunt became a councilor, which meant his cycle, too, was almost up. What Hunt knew or didn’t know about her history with Wrultho was a mystery to them all, given Reid didn’t know the truth of Ton’s broken treaty with Asterya.

The ire in Ton’s eyes leashed as Hunt appeared at his side, as if Ton knew he could not let his history with Vaasa slip in front of the man he so desperately wanted to please.

“May I introduce Vaasalisa of Mireh?” Reid spoke as if he couldn’t sense the dripping hatred in the man’s gaze.

Again, her name attached to his. Attached now to Mireh; no longer a Kozár.

The corner of Ton’s lip curled. “I have heard many things about you, Vaasalisa of Mireh.”

There were plenty of ways Vaasa could play the situation—she’d considered a few before stepping off the boat. While they didn’t need Hunt’s vote, without a successful bargain with Ton, there would be no outmaneuvering Dominik. So Vaasa went with the only angle familiar to her: a scheme. Smirking, she said, “You may not like me, but I would like to wager that by the end of our time, you will.”

Ton frowned as he looked to Reid, who stifled a small chuckle at her audacity and shrugged.

“You have your hands full,” Hunt remarked.

“Only when she allows me,” Reid responded smoothly.

Much to Vaasa’s surprise, Hunt cracked a grin.

Vaasa fought her own amusement and the heat that threaded its way along her body. All this posturing was the least authentic thing she’d seen among Icrurians so far, but Reid’s comment… well, that was nothing but truth. “Would you like to take my wager, Ton of Wrultho?”

The foreman of Wrultho wrinkled his nose at her directness and said, “Get to your point or stop wasting my time.”

Apparently, that was a no. “Last chance,” she offered.

Steam could have been flowing from Ton’s ears. Especially when Hunt leaned back like he was actually interested in how this would all play out, and the other councilors and foremen began to take notice. “I think our nation has learned not to play games with Asteryans,” Ton said with a sneer.

While Ton’s hatred for Asterya was justified in many ways, his vitriol didn’t provide any new insight as to what Hunt did or didn’t know. Mathjin had warned her of the outright dislike many people would show her this week. “Allow me to express my sincere hopes for our relationship moving forward.”

Then Ton peered up at the boat, of which the doors groaned open once again.

The entire crowd hushed.

The rattling of chains flooded the dock as steel links clanked against wood.

Being hauled down the walkway was the general from Asterya, terrified eyes squinting at the harsh sunlight.

The crowd on the dock all took a breath at once, not an eye on anything other than Reid and Vaasa and the long chains Esoti tugged harshly on. Ignac looked worse than when she’d left him, more bloodied, and she wondered silently what Mathjin had done to him.

The general fell to his knees.

Esoti placed those chains directly in Reid’s hands.

“I’m not certain if you’ve formally met General Ignac Kozár, but we happened to stumble upon him wearing Wrultho’s sigil on the Settara,” Vaasa said loudly enough for the other contenders and councilors to hear. “He and his Asteryan legion attacked our ship. You can imagine our surprise when men who had donned your uniforms boarded our vessel in aggression.”

Ton’s stern lips parted, eyes darting between her and the general. Rage coated his already harsh features, and the vein at his temple throbbed. “Those uniforms must have been stolen . My men never would have attacked you.”

Hunt stood up straight.

“Of course,” Reid chimed in. “The Asteryans must have taken them. They’ve paid for their insolence.”

Vaasa gave Ton her most saccharine smile. “They are all dead now, other than General Kozár. Consider him a gift.”

Hunt of Wrultho curled his lips in utter delight, looking at her directly now with more surprise than she thought she’d receive.

“Is this man not related to you?” the councilor from Hazut asked. He looked at the scene as though he didn’t believe his eyes, and she quickly realized he was capitalizing on the opportunity.

“This man assaulted my husband and my ship.” Vaasa looked to Reid, then back to the councilor. “Any relation was left there in the water.”

Galen and Kenen whispered to each other, both of their eyes wide at the scene in front of them. And Vaasa knew the display had done exactly what they’d wanted it to.

Hunt snorted in satisfaction, tipping his own inked head as he looked her up and down. “It is a good thing my successor did not take your wager, Vaasalisa of Mireh.”

Reid clenched his fist. “I have learned quickly that people who bet against my wife often find themselves saddled with regret.”

Ton grunted, trying not to look at the entire group of contenders who’d heard the comment. Yet Hunt raised his brows, looking between his successor and the incredibly confident foreman of Mireh as if observing two kings.

Reid lifted his chin, possessively sliding his other hand over Vaasa’s shoulder as he aimed the full strike of his words at Ton. “In light of these events, I’d like to request a meeting, one where you’ll get to decide which side you’d like to be on: ours, or the losing one.”

Hunt’s delighted smile twitched with the threat, but something about the way he let out a small hum told Vaasa he might respect them both more than he cared to admit.

“Then let’s go inside,” Ton said with poorly concealed ire. “We can discuss such things now.”

“It’s safe to assume no meeting will be held tonight,” Hunt said, a note of command in his tone—a deep undermining of Ton’s authority. Violence shimmered in the growing curve of his mouth. “Instead, you and I shall decide what to do with this gift. To use our sigil for his own end is a grave offense, one he will pay for.”

Ton hesitated, and Vaasa almost laughed at the meaning behind their words. To give such a direct decree, especially to a man merely days away from completing a decade-long foremanship, one who would at minimum rise to a councilor…

Marc of Mireh would have never dared speak to Reid like that, no matter how much Reid sought the man’s exaltation.

Hunt turned back to his wife without accepting an answer, because he already had one. Vaasa pointedly laid the chains in the hands of the guard Hunt sent to retrieve them. They rattled once more as Ignac was dragged to where Hunt quietly instructed Ton’s men to take him. With a frustrated scowl, Ton stomped off after the councilor, and Vaasa wondered how much faith Hunt had in his successor at all. How much responsibility he believed could be laid in the man’s lap.

Given how close Wrultho was to Hazut, it was a dynamic she could certainly play off of.

The contenders and councilors descended into the clamoring crowd.

As they cleared out, Isabel muttered under her breath, “Hunt’s lapdog. Sit, stay.”

Reid’s laughter threaded around them.

Despite herself, Vaasa grinned. Looking up at their small group, she whispered, “Shall we see if he can roll over?”

Against all odds, Marc of Mireh snorted a laugh before quickly regaining his composure. “Let’s go win an election, shall we?”

Upon entering the High Temple of Dihrah, they were blasted with cool air pushed by large fans moving upon the vaulted ceiling. Flared edges went back and forth in unison, appearing sharp from Vaasa’s angle. Coming immediately to her side, the five other Veragi witches crooned about their grand entrance and how the crowds had shaken with anticipation.

Koen found them in the main chamber immediately, metal spectacles highlighting the chocolate of his eyes and the enormous smile growing on his face as he spotted them. Koen’s eyes traveled across the small coven, greeting each of them with a strange familiarity, until his piercing gaze settled upon Amalie at Vaasa’s other side. He tilted his head. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Amalie seemed to freeze for a moment, but then she said, “I don’t believe we have, either.”

From behind Koen, Reid raised his brows.

“Koen of Dihrah,” the other foreman introduced himself with a hefty bow of his head.

“Amalie McCray.” The brown-haired witch shifted her feet a little.

“Melisina!” another voice called as a tall, thin man sauntered forward with the grace of a dancer, long limbs carrying him past the rest of the world and right into the woman’s waiting arms.

“Elijah,” Melisina greeted him, purple robes twisting around him. Vaasa swiftly realized he was high consort of Icruria. “You simply must meet my daughter-in-law.”

“Another Veragi witch, you sneaky woman!” he said to her. “As if your bloodline needed any more magic.”

Elijah of Icruria turned to greet Vaasa, stunning cornflower-blue eyes sliding up and down her. “Oh, I approve!” he trilled, stepping forward to grasp her forearm.

“Lovely to meet you, High Consort,” Vaasa said as Reid returned to her side and placed a reassuring hand at her back.

“Elijah,” he corrected. “Only ever Elijah. As I will call you Vaasalisa when you inevitably take my job.”

Reid laughed in confident agreement, but Vaasa smiled through the tightening in her stomach. “Actually, you will call me Vaasa. It’s what all my friends call me.”

Hand smacking against his chest, Elijah gaped. “Oh, Reid, she’s a smooth talker, all right.”

“The smoothest,” he said with a wink before pressing his lips affectionately to the side of her head.

“You have one hour,” Kier told them, eyes trailing to Romana and Mariana. “Don’t think about sneaking off to the sodality this year.”

“Don’t think your little title means you can boss us around,” Romana reminded him.

Vaasa stifled her laugh, given his little title was headman of Icruria.

Rolling his eyes, Kier fought a smile. “Good luck, Reid. Perhaps you will finally be able to negotiate with them.”

“Not likely,” Mariana said as Kier plunged back into the crowded main hall.

Shaking her head, Vaasa spent that single hour escaping to their quarters and fixing the cosmetics on her eyes and lips, Amalie sitting on the counter and dangling her legs. Reid caught up with Koen on the patio, and, dressed in their finest, all four of them descended upon the traditional first dinner together.

The councilors observed the entire dinner smugly, taking note of each of Vaasa’s gestures. Hunt of Wrultho clearly distrusted Vaasa after her earlier stunt. He often leaned over and whispered to his blond companion, the councilor from Hazut. But Hunt still managed to look more inviting than his successor, who had to bend over his table to fit. Ton of Wrultho’s eyes went wide when he saw who took the seat directly to Vaasa’s right.

Amalie.

The magic in Vaasa rumbled.

Regardless, they ate with ease, laughing at the jokes Reid made and smiling widely when Koen spoke. He’d taken the spot next to Amalie, which brought a smile to Vaasa’s lips, though she minded her own business.

The crowded room was filled with tables upon tables, all laid out around a dance floor. Food was piled on two larger rectangular tables lining the edges. Lanterns lit by the coven of Una were strung from the ceiling in varying levels, much like the library, shimmering in pale gold. People filed in, most of whom Vaasa didn’t recognize. Still, she ate her fill and joined the conversation where she could.

Brom of Hazut passed by their table, nodding at Reid and her while he regally promenaded his admittedly lovely wife around the room. The two presented as real contenders. Her dress fell gracefully from her shoulders and dragged a small train behind her. Swathed in all green, she looked like what Vaasa thought a high consort might. All lithe torso and long limbs, the woman elegantly looked over her shoulder at someone and smiled.

She must have practiced for this all her life.

Amalie chuckled, and Vaasa elbowed her.

Dancing began, Ton drank more honeyed mead than was or should ever be acceptable, and Vaasa rushed to dance with Reid. These steps were less unfamiliar to her, thanks to his lessons. But as he mastered each dance with the grace of an actor, Vaasa took the first excuse to slip out of his arms and to the edge of the circle in order not to embarrass herself any further.

Or to make herself look any less Icrurian.

Amalie stuck to her side, her only real saving grace in the unfamiliarity of the crowds. But just then, Koen extended her a hand. Amalie took it, garnering the attention of many around them as Koen took to the dance floor with her.

Finding Vaasa standing alone, Melisina took the opportunity to educate her on each major coven. Throughout the room were the witches who resided at each sodality, all with magic different from her own. Some could manipulate metal, others water, some were healers. While their blood could be passed down to any child regardless of sex, every coven was plagued with the same issue Veragi were: only one witch per bloodline lived at a time. Unlike Veragi, however, their power was not so overwhelming that it killed its untrained members. Yet most of them were prickly, closed off, and secretive. She supposed this was the issue Amalie had dreamed of fixing; imagine what they would be capable of, if only they worked together.

Melisina pointed out the coven Vaasa had sought all those months ago—the coven of Una. She scanned the faces of the large crowd of witches, all dressed in their ceremonial robes from the sodality.

Vaasa’s heart dropped.

There, with a stemmed glass in her hand and a smile on her face, was Brielle.

The young woman had been the only person to offer her friendship at the Sodality of Una, and Vaasa had shunned it.

I do not require your assistance, Brielle.

Shame emerged, and regret, too. She’d been wrong then to assume that being alone was the only way to survive. Being alone was the most assured way to die.

Vaasa gripped her wineglass and averted her eyes.

“She is the one who told me where you were,” Melisina said quietly, still at her side. “And I told Reid.”

The world could have dropped from beneath her feet. She’d never understood how he’d found her. How he’d known exactly where in the library she would be.

Vaasa tried to focus on the twirling of those around her, on Amalie and Kosana and Esoti and the room full of beating hearts she could suddenly hear. She tried not to shake. Tried not to let her thoughts swirl out of control at the memories of her time in this city.

It terrified her that any moment she could be alone again.

As Vaasa turned, she found Reid standing in front of her, that cocky amusement painted on his lips. He stepped into Vaasa, the smell of him surrounding her senses and forcing her eyes to break from Brielle. The salt. The amber. She looked up at him, only to find him already inspecting her.

“A toast?” he asked, wolfish grin growing as people watched the two of them, assessing who might very well be their next headman and high consort. Voice booming with all the assurance of a ruler, Reid said, “To my wife, who will make one of the most brilliant high consorts this continent has ever known.”

Quite a bold statement to make in the midst of an election.

But when Elijah raised his glass with a loud yowl of agreement, the room stirred with noise.

Ton watched them both, as did Hunt. Brom, too, along with his wife.

Vaasa’s lips slithered into a smile only she and Reid would know wasn’t real. Pretending to be perfectly flattered, she plucked the goblet from his hand and took a large gulp, toasting to the circle of people gathering around them. “To Icruria!”

They all cheered and laughed, raising their own glasses. Cheering for Reid of Mireh and his enthusiastic Asteryan bride.

She had a job to do. Though she would undoubtedly suffer for it later, she pushed down the magic and the awful tightening of her chest. She became what they all accused her of—a chameleon, melting into her surroundings and becoming whatever they needed her to be.

The world was watching, so Vaasa pressed her hands to Reid’s chest.

Peering up through her lashes, her indigo eyes met the depth of his, and if she hadn’t known any better, she’d have sworn he was caught there.

So she whispered, “Dance with me like lovers do.”

His jaw twitched, and as soon as she’d asked it of him, Reid of Mireh obliged.