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"You may well wonder at the suddenness of the occasion," Virgil said, voice booming unnaturally thanks to the charm he'd used to amplify it over the crowds. At the first word, they fell into a hush, one part curiosity and one part suspicion. Times had been complicated. He couldn't fault them for their caution.
Virgil glanced behind him to see if Ari had appeared yet. Barnabas the Third had been dispatched to collect her some time ago, but there was no sign of them yet. With a flick of his hand, he gestured to the steps and Cercing peeled herself from the shadows and hurried away. She knew not to be gone long. He couldn't direct such a complicated illusion while simultaneously keeping Ari from the clutches of ravening nobles without some kind of assistance. Cercing was instrumental in the next phase of his plan. He could already feel her absence, the thinning of the glamour decorating him for this laborious farce, as he took the brunt of its maintenance on himself.
He raised his hand. To Virgil's eyes the flesh rippled like the coils of a snake. His long ring bedecked hands replaced by squarer, tougher hands. Cylian had never quite lost his farm boy calluses. After a decade there was still a roughness to his edges. An openness so ill suited to the hinge upon which the kingdom swung. Each of Virgil's gestures was overlaid by the illusion they'd spun. The illusion of Cylian, hale and hearty. Vibrant. Not grey with magical sickness as he'd been when Virgil checked on him again this morning.
"For it is an occasion, one for which we all have waited many long years." Virgil made sure to keep his voice moderated yet cheerful, playing a better version of Cylian, the one who might have existed years ago but was lost somewhere along the way. The people needed their king. Luckily Virgil could provide him. Or an approximation. Enough to satisfy them a little while longer. His grip tightened on his staff, held low at his side. He could disguise it, but the more alterations he needed to make to the scene the harder it was to maintain. Where were they? He'd been quite clear on the time table. "You may have heard rumors, from your friends, your neighbors. Tonight we lay them to rest and replace them with the truth."
The crowd stirred. Apprehensive rumbles filled the silence. So many faces looked up at him, more than he could count, and closest at hand, the clean and powdered faces of the nobles stood watching with obvious hunger. Thiele's look was calculating as ever. Virgil wished again that Thiele had sent his son instead. None of this would have been necessary. They might even have passed an enjoyable evening.
Finally Ari appeared at the top of the stairs, announcing herself with enough noise that he didn't even need to turn to know it was her. Cercing moved like a breeze, Ari like a hurricane.
"She fought at my side against the Iron King himself and was victorious. She tamed the Great Sword, Cheynathril, when no other could." The people gasped, some shaking their heads, others raising hands as they realized what he was implying. "After years of solitude, she has returned to us. I present to you..."
Virgil held out a hand to welcome Ari forward. For a fraction of an instant, she froze, wide eyed and confused. And beautiful. The thought came unbidden as they so often did. She was beautiful to him again today just as she had been years ago, just as she would be tomorrow and the next day. It didn't matter that she was not for this world. Or him.
Her hand tightened on the Great Sword and Virgil came back to himself almost too late. Cercing's face was folded into a scolding frown. He deserved it. In his surprise, his concentration had slipped and there was no way to know if the illusion he wore had wavered with it. He raised his hands, hands loaned to Cylian for this night alone. He was not here at all. Anyone watching saw only Cylian standing to address them, smiling benignly in a way he hadn't done privately in close to a decade. Every part of him belonged to Cylian. Even his aching heart.
He raised their twin hands and Cylian's voice declared, "My Champion!"
***
BEFORE HER STOOD VIRGIL wearing Cylian's voice and Cylian's face and if she hadn't been prepared Ari might have thought she was losing her mind. Even with the warning, she needed a minute to process while Virgil/Cylian announced her. People cheered. She felt herself take a step forward. Then another. Her hand was painfully tight on Cheyna's hilt.
"Do something," she whispered at it. She'd felt it before, that sudden rush of power flooding up her arm like a rush of adrenaline pumped straight into her bloodstream. When that happened she felt invincible. Unstoppable. She felt like a Champion. But Cheyna remained silent and unhelpful. She stumbled forward another step and joined Virgil at the front of the platform. It was almost a relief to find that beneath whatever spell he'd used he still carried the same faint herbal scent and, if she listened very closely, she could still make out the faint click of the charms woven into his hair when he shifted.
"Wave to the people," Virgil said in a low voice, his and not his.
Ari did as she was told.
"And smile. You're happy to be here."
She did that too.
"You are late. I almost had to resort to making up exploits for you." The words came out crisp and distinctly Virgil even in Cylian's voice.
"That should have been easy for you," she whispered back in the same tone, smiling. "You're good at lying."
"Better than you at any rate." He smiled wider and then held up a hand which he closed into a fist. The noise of the crowd suddenly dimmed. "Come, Champion, greet our people. Let them hear the truth from your own mouth," he said. This time his voice boomed out over the crowd like he was using a megaphone.
She wanted to tell him to take his speech and shove it, but he shot her a look and tapped a finger against his grinning mouth. The meaning was clear. Whatever she said, they would hear. They would hear all of it.
Ari cleared her throat. The sound fanned out in waves, echoing back at her. At her side, Virgil's shoulders shook with silent laughter. She shifted her grip on Cheyna and brought it up against the back of his calf as hard as she could.
"Hello, people of Callaria," she said, and though her voice wavered she was smiling.
***
"THAT WAS QUITE POSSIBLY the worst address I've ever heard. It's impressive actually."
Ari snorted. "Bite me. If you wanted a speech you should've told me that before I got up here. I think I did just fine." She glanced to her side where Virgil sat and was again disconcerted to find a false Cylian filling the chair next to hers. Virgil sat on the other side of that, himself once more by some complicated illusion that she had no desire to investigate. She'd spent the first half hour of the festival's exhibition tournament looking between Cylian and Virgil, comparing. Cylian didn't look transparent or obviously fake. They didn't even move at the same times which only made it creepier to her, knowing where he currently was. He should be there with them.
"Remind me to prepare you a speech if ever we're in this situation again."
"No, thank you. You're already Cylian's puppet master. I don't need you to be mine too."
He sniffed. "If I was, perhaps you would have been on time for once. Whatever took you so long? I gave strict instructions."
"I thought I'd have time tour the festival first. I didn't expect it to be five miles wide. You didn't need to send your attack apprentice after me."
"Then stick to the schedule next time if you please."
Below the raised box, in a ring hastily constructed and decked with multicolored witchlights, some of the best—or at least most readily available—fights in the kingdom clashed with sword and shield. Ari couldn't tell them apart when they were armored and helmeted, but some helpful soul had fixed a colored flag to the back of each fighter like a pennant. Many were some variation of blue stripes or diamonds except in one odd case when there were polka dots. Virgil said blue signified members of the Royal Guard. The other colors—green, orange, purple, and black—were guards and swordsman from afar who had arrived to compete. Some had also come in as part of a noble's entourage.
Ari leaned forward in her high backed chair, supporting herself with Cheyna who seemed equally restless. Her fingers were almost numb just from holding the sword. Once the fighting started, it hummed so loud she could barely hear anything else.
"You can't fight today even if it is only for sport," Virgil said, half amused, half resigned. "The point is for you to be seen. From afar. If you go down there, you will be close enough to approach and potentially proposition." Ari opened her mouth to argue, but he went on. "And if I'm not mistaken one of the combatants is a much sought after mercenary. If you fight her with your current skill you will lose and very likely injure yourself. No doubt whoever offered her up for the tournament would be thrilled to break a few of your ribs."
Ari's hand went to her chest, snagging the open collar of her coat. For once Virgil had supplied her with pants and a coat instead of a dress, but it was still fancier than she would ever be comfortable with. She kept worrying she was going to tear it to shreds accidentally. "Why would they try to break my ribs? That's like mafia threats. What did I ever do to them?"
"You? Possibly nothing. Not directly anyway. But that doesn't mean that they can't blame you for their lack of a throne. You were instrumental in putting Cylian there. They can't very well kill you in a festival tournament ring in front of so many people, not if they hope to make it appear accidental. Their reputations would never recover from a public assassination and without that a throne is useless, but that doesn't mean they can't do something else. Fighters break ribs all the time. Or fingers. An eye isn't out of the question either though we're on uneasy ground there. It depends on the situation and their skill."
"You know, sometimes I wish you would lie about these kinds of things. No wonder Cylian was so paranoid if you talked like this all the time. Learn to sugarcoat, Virgil," she snapped, still clutching at her ribs and the phantom pain she kept imagining. She'd never broken a rib before. This was no time to start.
Virgil fell silent and Ari went back to watching the fighting with a bit less eagerness than before. At her side, the false Cylian sat and shifted, chest rising and falling with breaths he wasn't really taking, and said nothing.
"I apologize," Virgil said so suddenly that she actually jumped. "What I said was thoughtless. However, I was not to blame for what befell Cylian. I hope you will trust that."
She did, she realized. He'd lied about plenty of things, but that was one lie she didn't believe he would make. There was no reason why. He kept proving over and over again that he wasn't the same apprentice boy she'd known. He was different. The situation was different. The world was different. But no matter how she looked at it, she trusted Virgil.
"I do."
"Thank you."
Below one fight ended and another was announced. Ari knew neither of them. Captain Something-or-other of Vithia versus a magician from Querley to the south. Ari vaguely remembered traveling through there once. They had stopped for the night, to rest and to eat. Ari didn't even know how they had paid for any of it. They'd been four broke teens on the run from an evil overlord. They had no allowance. There was every chance that Virgil had stolen their dinner, that night or on a dozen other occasions. Naiah had picked pockets when she could and had tried unsuccessfully to show Ari how too. A lot of their early days together had been like that. Ari had only half understood what was happening or where she was, but she hadn't worried much because they were together. It felt safe. Even with the soldiers chasing them. The occasional attack. They got by.
That feeling was absent now. She hadn't realized how much she wanted it until now, that assurance.
Ari blew out a breath. She needed to stop brooding about the past. That was then and this was now. They needed to work with what they had.
The magician had conjured some kind of purplish shield but had no other visible weapon as they danced around the ring, avoiding attacks from the challenger.
"I didn't know you let magic users in to tournaments like this," she commented. "It doesn't seem like a fair match. They don't even have a weapon."
"Of course they do. They are the weapon."
Another blow landed on the purple shield, throwing up sparks. Ari hadn't seen them attempt to attack once.
"They're getting hammered down there."
Virgil tipped his head in acknowledgment. "I know of them. They're a gifted fabricator, but that doesn't necessarily translate to the battlefield. Not everyone is meant to fight with their hands."
He'd barely finished speaking when the magician went down, shield exploding with a sound like distant thunder. They lay on their back, stunned, looking up at the sky until their fellow fighter gave them a hand up.
They lapsed into companionable silence as another string of matches began. As her earlier anxiety ebbed and the tournament wore on, Ari started to feel drowsy. Even the uncomfortable chair couldn't stop her eyes drifting closed. Cheyna hummed contentedly at her side. Softly. Like a lullaby about death promised.
Ari jerked upright. Virgil was watching her, one hand tapping against the armrest of his own uncomfortable chair. His look said, "Are we boring you?" She couldn't even be embarrassed. She was exhausted. The best sleep she'd had lately had been on his lumpy little couch.
A familiar head of nearly black hair appeared in the ring.
Ari sat forward.
Below, Loren bowed before raising a hand in greeting. "To My Lady Champion's honor," he called out. His helmet was held under an arm, casually, and he turned to wave to those assembled around the ring, a familiar quirk to his smile.
"He didn't tell me he was competing."
"And you would have done what precisely had you known?"
"I don't know. What do people do here for luck? Break a leg is only for the theater, right?" When she looked over, Virgil was making his confused face again. She sighed. "Never mind."
She almost missed the entrance of Loren's opponent. He was... very large, she had to give him that. Mountainous seemed a fair description. The molded bronze chest plate he wore featured something serpentine and many headed. Ari leaned towards Virgil. "That thing on his armor, the thing that looks like a hydra. You don't have any of those here do you?"
Virgil followed her pointed finger and shook his head. "That's only a myth."
"Oh good."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Not funny."
The start of the match hadn't been signaled yet and both Loren and his opponent prowled the ring while they sized each other up. Loren hadn't even drawn his sword. His opponent outweighed him by fifty pounds easy, but he didn't seem bothered in the slightest. It was clear when the finally began. The other man wasn't slow like Ari had expected from his size and heavy armor, but Loren was still faster. He'd also taken some notes from Trissa's fighting style. No one can land a hit on an opponent who isn't there. Loren danced about the ring with a smile that was by now very familiar. He was enjoying himself.
By the time Loren landed the winning blow Ari was leaning over the railing. "He's really good!" She waved down as Loren swept off his helmet to make his bows. When he saw her, his smile widened. Almost too fast to see, he winked before making his way from the ring.
Ari sat back. "No wonder I can't beat him."
"Yes," Virgil drawled and Ari glanced at him. There was a definite case of stink face going on.
"You're doing the face again. Why don't you like him? He's been nothing but nice to me."
"Of course, because as he told you, he's spying for Gorva. It wouldn't serve his purposes to aggravate you."
"I didn't say spying. I said ingratiating. Big difference. And so far he hasn't learned anything that he couldn't have found out just being in the castle. I swear, the servants you have chasing me around all day probably know more about me than I do. I don't even know which socks I can wear without asking because Celeste has some kind of system. Last time I touched them, she yelled at me."
During her speech Virgil had dropped his chin into his hand and was watching her with a bemused look on his face. "Your maid orders your stockings for you."
"You assigned her to me!"
"In fact I did not. I don't generally touch a hand to such things or I would have time for nothing else. That is the occupation of a steward."
"You know I don't know what that is."
"Then I suppose this makes us even for once or did you think I hadn't noticed how often you mention things of your world just to confuse me? Or that the number increases dramatically when you're angry with me?"
At that Ari shrugged and went back to watching though few of the fighters were as entertaining to watch as Loren had been.
After the tournament, as the sun grew dim and dropped beyond the towering trees of the nearby forest, Ari was shuffled off to view the festival while surrounded by her own complement of guards—most recognizable from the nightly dinners in the hall—who kept her fenced off from anyone who might try to speak with her, common and noble alike. Ari felt like a parade float. Every time she tried to stop, or wave, or say more than two words, someone interfered. She could barely see the festival she was supposed to be viewing. She craned her neck and stretched to see into one of the leaf bedecked stalls. Immediately there was an attendant hovering beside her, a hand not quite touching but definitely herding, and a quiet "if you please, My Lady" to move her along.
Ari frowned at her nearest handler. She looked sensible enough with her hair done up in a coil of low maintenance braids. "I just want to see some of the stalls," Ari said with a longing look at a vendor of what looked like donuts. She hadn't had a donut in weeks, even before she'd returned to Callaria. The air was heavy with the scent of oil and cinnamon, almost like churros.
She leaned towards the smell and sighed. "I just want one."
The woman nodded to the man beside her who broke off from the pack. He returned a moment later with something warm wrapped in thick, papery leaves and presented it to her.
Ari thanked him, already unwrapping the donut thing. It was as delicious as it smelled. She didn't need the delivery service though. Surely Champions could get their own snacks.
Ari took another bite. It was really good though. She glanced at the woman flanking her on the right. "How did you get stuck babysitting me?"
The woman raised an eyebrow.
"Did you annoy Virgil or something? I'm just curious."
"You're mistaken, My Lady. The pleasure is all mine."
Ari glanced at the man on her other side. He looked bemused. "What about you? Wouldn't you rather be enjoying the festival instead of guarding little old me?"
He didn't say anything, looking instead at something in the crowd. Ari turned to look too.
Half buried in the approaching crowds was a tall man in a feather tipped cap. She couldn't quite place him, but she had the distinct impression she'd seen him before. Both her minders swore. Ari didn't know the words this time, but she knew the sound.
"What? Who is that?"
Instead of answering, they turned Ari in the opposite direction, keeping up a pace so brisk it was a struggle to keep from smacking herself with Cheyna. They were going so fast that Ari almost walked face first into a low hanging canvas sign on one of the tents. She still couldn't read it, but the print was very emphatic about something. There was even a little squiggle at the end that looked like an exclamation point. Or maybe a question mark.
"What's this?"
The man barely glanced at it. "Nothing of concern. Children's games."
"Really?" Ari craned her neck to see inside but there was a flap door blocking the entrance. "What kind of games?"
They exchanged a look around her before one of her guards sighed. "Would you like to go in, My Lady?"
She would indeed.