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Vixna had always known her place in the world. She was born of a duchess and a king, a peacemaker and an explorer; she was important. She was always going to be important. She was a princess, there was never any doubt of what her place in the world would be, the very center. She was born on a platform, on a stage, beneath a spotlight and nothing would change that.
It turns out that all the world’s a stage and she was made to be taken all over it. Her mother was the Godseeker, after all. Staying put had never been an option for her, and it very quickly was not an option for Vixna, either. The throne would always be her way home, in more than one way, but the path there was not a simple one. It wasn’t a staircase to the sky, it was a series of towers that she needed to touch and gather, a web that slowly pulled her higher and higher.
There was her father waiting on the throne to greet them after every mission, there was Nagaira protecting them silently, saving all her smiles for her mother instead of her, there was excitement and adventure and knowledge.
Each step was a stone falling away underfoot. Never too long in one place, never too far from home, but never home long enough to be comfortable. Vixna felt as though she never looked back, even when she returned home, it was always new and exciting.
And then her mother died. Her mother was killed, by an angel, of all things. The Godseeker, struck down by a messenger therein.
And then Nagaira left her. Nagaira, who had never smiled at her, but was always there. Nagaira, who had held her close and ran with her to keep her safe while her mother fought an angel. Nagaira, who had left in the night without a word or a note. They all knew that she’d gone, of course. The king would never forgive her for failing, even if Vixna did.
She was surrounded by people at the wake and there was a circle of strangers around her when she nearly choked on the poison that was slipped into her food. Nagaira wouldn’t have let her nearly die from a bowl of soup, but Nagaira wasn’t here, so Vixna had to learn to keep these things from happening herself. The only thing that she had left was the shadow of an angel hovering over her, smiling at her with the blazing gaze that had always watched her mother.
The stones slipped away.
And then she was taken, kidnapped. Locked in a tower without even the gaze of an angel to keep her company.
Her study of poisons couldn’t help her here.
Her magic didn’t help her here.
Her memories and certainty, none of that helped her here.
And then Nagaira came. After years of silence, absence, uncertainty, she came to save her. Another stone fell away at her feet and Vixna embraced the crumbling ground finally, told herself to learn to fly.
She knew her place in the world was upon the stage. The world was her stage and she was going to find a way to control the curtain calls, even if her mother hadn’t.