Page 105 of Witchshadow
He only shakes his head. “It is too late for her, Iseult, but it is not too late for you.” And without another word, he slides a bracing arm behind her back and hauls her into a run.
THIRTY-FIVE
There was only one place Vivia knew to go: her final Fox ship,Baile’s Blessing,still waiting in the Hundred Isles. It was the last hole this little fox had to run to. The final place she might find safety.
She and Vaness had sprinted for the first mile, the sun rising before them as the Well’s power and the magic in their blood fueled them east along a worn coastal road. Vivia couldn’t maintain the curtain of water forever, though, and eventually, the hunters would wrest themselves free of Vaness’s restraints. But they had a lead—a large one—and they used it. Even when they were both barely sucking in air and Vivia’s vision was starting to spin, she didn’t let them slow. She insisted they half jog, half walk, each step thudding after the other.
Every rasping breath, Vivia expected Yoris’s hunters to appear. Every heartbeat clashing in her ears, she expected to hear Dalmotti fire. But no one and nothing came.
At some point, she and Vaness released hands. At some point, where a limestone cliff came close enough to the sea to reveal the Dalmottis, they abandoned the road and flew into the wild, breathing forest. Vivia led the way. She was not a hunter; she was not trained for stealth. But at least moving within the trees offered shelter against Dalmotti weapons or mounted hunters on the prowl.
Eventually, they reached a stream heading east. Its burbling waters calmed Vivia’s muscles and pacified her frantic mind. Though logic told her there would be no undergrowth, no minnows darting in the sunlight if this water were poison, she couldn’t bring herself to drink it.
Vaness did, even as Vivia barked a warning. “The waters in Nubrevna aren’t safe.”
“Just a sip,” Vaness pleaded through panting breaths. Then one iron bracelet melted into a cup, and she scooped up stream water and drank. Nothing happened. No jolt of pain or sudden wrenching. No choking or screams.
Still, Vivia could do nothing but watch her. So many years of fear could not be counteracted in a single moment, no matter how pure the water might seem.
Once Vaness had drunk her fill, she sank onto a flat stone. Ferns sighed against her, green and sparkling beneath the morning sun.
“We cannot stay,” Vivia warned.
“I know.” Vaness stared into her iron cup. “Just a few moments. I am not as fit as you.”
Vivia huffed a tired laugh. She felt anything but fit right now. “You should see my first mate.Sheis fit.” Vivia settled into a squat beside the stream. Though she couldn’t bring herself to drink, she did let her hand slip into the water. Cold despite the warm air.
“Vizer Sotar’s daughter?”
“Hye.” Vivia nodded. Her reflection wavered up at her, indistinct and unsteady.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“I am sorry then.” Vaness’s voice softened, as if her thoughts had turned inward. “I lost my Adder High when I fled Marstok. Rokesh was the closest thing I had to a friend.”
“Oh.” Vivia didn’t know what to say, and judging by the taut line of Vaness’s shoulders, there was nothingtosay.
She pushed back to her feet. Her leg muscles screamed, but she was used to pain. Used to ignoring it and finishing what needed doing. “Come.” She offered Vaness a hand.
The Empress didn’t take it. Instead, she stared at Vivia’s fingers, wet from the stream. “I am sorry about your father. I cannot imagine it is easy to learn that he betrayed you.”
“Oh,” Vivia repeated, and her hand fell like a hammer. Suddenly the pain seemed impossible to ignore. Suddenly she was tired and thirsty and the horror she’d avoided since fleeing Yoris—it was punching in too fast to escape.
“It… is not the first time,” she squeezed out.
“But this is the worst,” Vaness replied.
Indeed, it was the worst. Before, her father had simply wanted the crown Vivia was meant to inherit. He’d wanted the title he’d had before Jana’s death. He’d wanted the power he’d wielded for so many years. And though deep down, past the final shelf of her own being, Vivia believed he’d cared for her…
His need for power, for adoration, had won out against any love he had for his own child. And no doubt, he’d expected Vivia to fall in line. When she hadn’t, he’d pursued.
That was what she’d told herself for the past month.Thatwas the story she’d made herself believe. But where did this new truth fit into it? How could a father sell his child to the enemy? How, how,howcould he love her at all yet so willingly give her away?
“I am sorry.” Vaness shot to her feet, abrupt. Graceless. “I did not intend to cause pain.”
“Then why did you say anything?” Vivia snapped. It was getting harder by the moment to form words and sneak them past the heat in her chest.
