Page 11 of Bloodwitch
She should be happy about that. And she was—she really was. Yet there was something else knotting in her belly. Something she didn’t like that she wished would stop immediately. And it did stop the instant her eyes met Stix’s. The instant Stix smiled, dazzling and bright.
Heat fanned up Vivia’s neck onto her face, an inescapable blush that happened every time she saw her best friend, and likely would continue until Vivia finally worked up the courage to mention the kiss from the under-city.
Nothing had been the same since that kiss—a mere brush of Stix’s lips on Vivia’s cheek. And nothing had been the same since Vivia had been labeled Queen-in-Waiting… yet not truly labeled at all, because although the power might have passed from her father to her, the “waiting” part seemed more important to the High Council than the “queen” part.
“So sorry, Your Highness,” Stix murmured, hurrying into position on Vivia’s left side. “A message came in that needed immediate processing.But,” she added, glancing at Serafin, “I wasn’t sure he should see it.”
“What could be—”
Stix waved her off. “We can deal with it after this.”
Right.This. The unveiling of Vivia’s under-city. The reason all these hundreds of families had lined up, and these thousands of people had piled into the Skulks to ogle her.
And the reason Vivia’s guts had punched holes through her other organs.
“Vivia,” her father declared, a bass boom that could silence an entire city—and did. It was good to hear him so strong after months of fragile whispers. It was, itwas. “Shall we begin?” Serafin moved to Vivia’s other side.
“Hye,” she breathed, and hastily, she tapped once more at the edges of her face.Yes, Mother, it’s on.Then she sucked in her breath, matched her father’s fierce expression, and—
“The empires,” Serafin bellowed, “have resumed the war.”
Vivia’s teeth clacked shut.
“We did not ask for this, and we never have.”
Her father was speaking. Why was he speaking?
“Always, they try to cow us and displace us. Always they try to crush us beneath their boot heels, and always, Nubrevna has stood strong.”
What was her father doing? This was supposed to be her speech. Vivia had spent three days writing it.
“This city and its people have stood for centuries.” He opened his arms wide, body hale and voice relentless. “And we will stand for centuries more. Today marks a new era for us. A new beginning that we will not let the empires steal away.”
He pumped a fist to the sky, and the crowds broke loose like a thunderstorm. Noise slammed against Vivia, charged and alive.
“Today,” he went on, somehow pitching his voice even louder, “we open the Lovats under-city and begin moving families into its homes—we begin moving you. We have worked hard for two weeks to prepare this space. We have worked hard foryou.”
More stamping, more screaming, and Viviaknewshe should be stamping and screaming too. Not just because the under-city was ready, but because this was the Serafin she remembered. This was the force she had grown up with, the ruler she’d tried to be.
But she was too stunned to do anything. He was sayingherspeech before the peopleshehad worked to house. Hye, he had always told her,Share the glory, share the blame.But this… this felt bigger than that.
A hand gripped Vivia’s forearm. She stiffened, knowing Stix meant only to comfort her. Or maybe her friend meant it as a sign of solidarity—a sign that someone else in this rapturous mayhem knew Serafin was claiming glory he hadn’t earned.
As he trumpeted on, reciting wordsViviahad written and wordsViviahad practiced in the mirror, she found her shoulders rising toward her ears. Found her fingers curling into aching, throbbing fists at her sides.
One should not need credit,Jana always used to say,so long as the job gets done.And the job was getting done. It was getting done well—Vivia had seen to that. And her father looked healthier than he had in ages. She should be happy. Sheshouldbe happy.
“And today,” her father finished, “we prove to ourselves and to the empires that though we cannot always see the blessing in the loss…”
“Strength is the gift of our Lady Baile,” finished the people, a refrain to shake the city’s ancient stones, “and she will never abandon us.”
“Vivia?” Serafin turned to his daughter, beaming and victorious. “Open the doors.”
And Vivia’s throat closed up. Tears seared along the backs of her eyeballs, for of course, those were supposed to be her words. She was supposed to turn to Stix and say them.Captain? Open the doors.
Instead, her father had said them. Instead, the Queen-in-Waiting was the one turning toward the entrance. And instead, the Queen-in-Waiting, who had failed thoroughly to be a bear or a Nihar or anything impressive at all, was the one laying gloved hands upon an iron latch while her father basked in the city’s love.
Behind Vivia, the entire city of Lovats quaked with joy, with excitement, with anticipation—and all of it was focused on Serafin Nihar. A man who had never even set foot in the under-city.
