The Broken Kingdoms of Osvolta (Kingdoms of Osvolta #1)

85. The Awakening

Chapter eighty-five

The Awakening

H er eyes watered as the air rushed past her, cold and deadly. It stole the breath from her lungs as she fell toward the frozen ground below and it rushed to meet her. Body aching as the wind assaulted her. Straining, she brought her arms forward, attempting to mirror the same movement she’d made in the dungeon. She slowed slightly, but the ground was still coming much too fast.

With as much strength as she could manage, she moved her arms back again, fighting against the rushing wind before repeating the manoeuvre. Closing her eyes as she did so, she was losing velocity, but it wasn’t enough. She peeked one eye open and saw the ground still coming for her just before she collided with it. Slow enough to not die, but hard enough that she was sure she’d dislocated a shoulder at least, and possibly worse.

The air was still around her as she stared up at the sky, wincing through the pain in her left shoulder before forcing herself to stand. Her ankle was weak, grimacing as she put pressure on it, but it was mercifully still intact. The pain was worth it when they should have been scraping her splattered brains and disintegrated bones from the courtyard instead.

She raced as fast as her ankle would allow, cradling her damaged arm with the other as she headed for the gates. Shouts rang around the castle, sconce after sconce lighting in her wake. She pushed herself harder, ignoring the stomach-churning agony as time ran against her. The guard had been true to his word, and even worse, he set the entire castle to the task, too.

The gates finally came into view, mercifully still open. She saw a guard racing around the stone wall to the operator shouting as he went. The gate started to close, forcing Solveig to push harder, breathe faster.

Close.

She was so close.

Barely a metre from the ground, she threw herself down onto the gravel to slide beneath the sharp teeth. Knowing she’d have time to regret the move later once she was somewhere safe. She didn’t look back. Even as more angry shouts came after her, the guards desperately trying to bring the gate back up to allow the rest of them to give chase.

Solveig disappeared into the night.

She cleared the hill, raced past the glistening fa?ade of the Temple of The Oracle as it slumbered before vanishing into the town. She moved through the tangle of alleys, heading west toward Farrenhold. They would know it was her only chance and they would surely follow, still she had to try.

Her heart pounded in her ears as her vision blackened at the edges. It forced her to stop for a moment. Slumping in the shadows against a wall with closed eyes, she grimaced through the pain coursing down her entire left side. Fighting to slow her heart rate when a hand clamped down over her mouth, the point of a dagger pressed against her throat. She fought against their hold, screaming silently as it put pressure on her damaged shoulder. She would not go back to the castle alive.

“Stop fighting,” a voice hissed. It was familiar to her, like an ethereal dream, though she couldn’t place where she had heard it before. “If you want to live through this night, you’ll come with me quickly. They’ll be on us soon.”

“Who are you?” Her voice was muffled by the hand over her mouth.

“Your last hope, now move.”

They stopped only to steal a pair of horses that were left outside a run-down hovel masquerading as a tavern. Mounted them without a word and raced westward. Solveig lagged slightly, fighting to steady herself with only one hand strong enough to grip the reins. She prayed the horses would give them an advantage.

The mysterious rescuer kept a punishing pace, cutting northward as the dawn broke, heading straight for the port. There, a small boat waited, the guard’s post mysteriously empty, though Solveig didn’t care to wonder why.

The stranger dismounted their horse with ease, heading aboard without pause, but Solveig hesitated at the foot of the gangplank.

“Who are you?” she asked again, staring at the stranger as they busied themselves readying the boat for departure.

“We’ll have time for questions once we’re at sea. Now climb aboard.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who you are,” she insisted. The stranger paused, their back to her as they threw a line to the floor with a shrug.

“Suit yourself. I give you a day before those guards catch you, another before you’re a spectacle at the gallows in front of the entire city. Choice is yours.”

“Fine,” Solveig grumbled, stalking aboard, where she leaned against the mast.

“You could help, you know?”

“I’ve never sailed a boat in my life. This is on you.”

“Perhaps you could give those new Aire Wending abilities a stretch and help us get out of port faster.”

“How did you…” Solveig didn’t bother finishing her sentence, changing tack. “I doubt I’ll be much use. I’m down a working arm at the moment.”

“Anything is better than nothing. Channel some of that rage I know you still have coursing beneath the surface, or we’re both dead. Is that enough motivation for you?”

Solveig closed her eyes, bringing every hurt to the surface; the prince’s deceit, Teris’s too, the revelation of her cuffs removal, the death knell The Oracle pushed her toward. A slight breeze picked up behind them. It wasn’t much, but slowly the sails filled, and they finally got underway. It took all her concentration. Forcing her to keep her anger bubbling under the surface. Once they were clear of the secluded port. she let the wind drop, exchanging it for a dagger, tired of waiting for answers.

“Start talking,” she hissed; blade pointed at the stranger.

They moved away from the helm without a word, instead reaching up to remove the hood that had been casting their face in shadows. Brown skin glowed in the early morning sun. Her braided hair had more silver than before but was still decorated with glittering charms, as stark, churning grey eyes stared back at her.

“You,” Solveig gasped, taking a step back. “How?” The woman only pushed the sleeves of her cloak up, revealing cuff-less arms Solveig hadn’t noticed before.

“You never did work for Luxenal, did you?” Solveig guessed, lowering her dagger.

“No.”

“How did you know where to find me? How did you know I needed help?”

“I make it my business to know things.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

“You said if a name is all I require that I could call you Viana, was that the truth?”

“Partially, though most people know me as Viviana, or even Seraphine.”

“No,” Solveig’s head shook, eyes wide as she stumbled back a step.

“My true name, however, is Seraphine Viviana of House Etana, Queen of Farrenhold, Lady of the House of Seers.”

“This is impossible,” Solveig stammered, staggering back aimlessly, searching for something to give her purchase.

“Some would argue that the power you wield now is also impossible, yet here you stand.”

“You died. I attended your funeral.”

“A complicated explanation that’s better saved for another time.”

“Where are you taking me? To Farrenhold?”

“To Vanahold.”

“That place is a myth,” Solveig scoffed.

“It is no more a myth than your home is.”

“We should go to Farrenhold,” Solveig insisted. “I’ll be safe there.”

“Farrenhold has their own troubles brewing. It is best we steer clear.”

“What of your children?”

“They will receive aid should they need it.”

“How can you be so cold about all of this?”

“I cannot interfere more than I already have,” Seraphine snapped. “We’ve waited decades for the awakening.”