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Ivy
Acrowd of several dozen has gathered in the graveyard beyond the Laonek estate. As I stand next to Casimir, ready to give my eulogy, I can’t help eyeing the mourners warily.
“When we talked to Hanie during the rebellion, she said the Order of the Wild people had murdered most of the family’s staff,” I murmur to the courtesan.
He shrugs, beaming at the latest arrivals. “From what I’ve gathered, these are mostly people who knew Julita from her jaunts into town. And of course there’s the few school friends who made the trek all the way from Florian.” He tips his head toward a cluster of young noblewomen who are standing off to the side, apart from the more modest provincial folk.
I consider those four with even more skepticism. I only vaguely recognize them from my time at Sovereign College—certainly none of them took note that I’d said I was Julita’s friend and sought me out to ask what had happened to her. “They must be hoping that showing up will make them look good in the eyes of the queen now that Julita’s been named a national hero.”
Stavros comes up behind me with a teasing click of his tongue. “And our other national hero still has a few prejudices to work through.”
I aim a light jab backward of my elbow at him. “Well-earned prejudices, thank you very much.”
The abruptness of the small movement sends a brief jolt through my nerves. I go still, inhaling more deeply and focusing on my imagined vine holding my body together in the way that’s become automatic now.
Casimir notices the shift in my attitude in an instant. He touches my arm. “Are you all right? If this is a little too much for you—you were closer to Julita than anyone in the end.”
I shake my head carefully. No strange sounds blare in my ears; no frantic thoughts flit through my mind. “That’s why I need to speak for her at least a little. I’m fine.”
Fine, of course, is relative. I’m leagues more fine than I was in the first days after I collapsed in a fit of babbling and shudders after the godlen poured their magic through me.
My men sedated me before I could gather enough intent to do any significant harm, and I spent most of the next two months in a partly drugged daze at the Temple of Tranquil Skies, with Delfis and his devouts drawing on all their healing talents to soothe my nerves and restore my broken mind.
Some of the scourge sorcerers’ former sacrificial accomplices assisted as well. Many of those we’ve rescued are now stationed at temples across the country to amplify the magical work the clerics are overseeing. A few are on the royal staff.
As Poltus, one of those who’s stayed with the queen, told me the day of the trials, it’s the one way they’re most capable of contributing. For all their sacrifices, I can tell they’re happier with their new sense of purpose.
I’m not sure Delfis’s people could have mended my nerves without the boost those resilient souls provided.
Gradually I’ve recovered my wits and my self-control. The taint of madness hasn’t totally left me, but I’m sharp enough now to recognize the minor flickers of hallucinations and delusional ideas when they arise.
My body has odd reactions at times as well, like the jolt I just experienced. Since I’m no longer facing off against psychotic sorcerers or surviving through stealth, I can tolerate that side effect for as long as it lasts.
My soul is still cracked, presumably even more than it was before. My magic flows and churns through my torso, always niggling at me for more freedom. But I’ve taken up Sulla’s regimen of one small magical act per day, and that keeps it happy enough not to savage me.
And if I should ever need to defend queen and kingdom again, gods save me, I have all the power I need at my fingertips.
The cleric of the All-Giver from the main temple in Pima intones the standard blessing of the dead and then says a few words about Julita’s contributions to freeing the county of Nikodi from the Order of the Wild. No one except my closest companions knows the full story of how Julita took her stand, but it’s common knowledge now that she was the first to identify the scourge sorcery threat and that she lost her life taking down her brother, one of the leaders of their army.
When the cleric finishes, he motions for me to take his place in front of her marble monument. The figure it depicts was carved by a sculptor from Florian with input from Casimir, Stavros, and Alek’s memories of the living woman, but I used a few weeks of magical acts to carve a simple vine design along the base.
I give the etching a private smile, imagining how Julita would have responded to it, before I turn to face the crowd of mourners. My throat feels suddenly dry.
She can’t hear me right now the way she followed every moment of my life for the few months we shared my body. Her consciousness will have drifted away into the embrace of her godlen.
I want to do her justice all the same.
I swallow hard and gather myself. “Julita and I met under strange circumstances, two people who couldn’t be more different in position or temperament. But despite all those differences, she became the best friend I’d ever had. She could bolster my spirits when I had doubts and find something to laugh about in the darkest situations. Her fierce devotion to both Nikodi and Silana were awe-inspiring. Keeping all of us safe from the horrors she’d experienced firsthand mattered more to her than her own life.”
A murmur of appreciation flows through the crowd.
My voice catches for a second before I can go on. “The last thing Julita ever asked from me was for me to see that Nikodi came under good rulership once she was gone as the last of her family line. Even when she knew she didn’t have much time left in this world, she was thinking of the people she’d dreamed about taking care of someday. And her final act against the scourge sorcerers not only stopped the invasion of Regica but saved my life.”
With a shaky breath, I bow my head. “I will forever remember Julita and the many ways she touched my life and earned my admiration. I hope her soul moved swiftly into the embrace of her godlen, and that generations to come see this monument as a symbol of leadership and courage.”
I step back to a respectful smattering of applause. Rheave loops his arm around my back and tips his head close to mine. “That sounded very good to me.”
I lean into his embrace. “I think you might be a little biased, but thank you.”
