Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
TESNI
Word has spread of my queendom, of what transpired in Marrowood—every single detail.
Everyone in Hypathia should know what I am capable of, what will come for them should they resist or try to fight back.
Barony is practically frothing at the mouth like a rabid hound with all of the power within his grasp, both in the empire and from the alchemists.
He’s finally ready to attempt the experiment on himself, despite what happened to his first set of rats against Duskthorne’s forces.
We don’t know what, exactly, transpired, only that my damned sister sent a missive to me herself.
Your abominations are no match for us. Give up now and perhaps I’ll let you live.
I will not offer again.
-T
No one has heard a word from the cadre that was sent into that battle, no trace of them left on the killing field.
Granted, it was covered in ten feet of snow by the time scouts arrived to investigate.
There were no storms reported in that area, at least none so strong as to lead to that much snow.
Thea had buried all traces of the battle.
Was it a message? That she could—and would—bury us all?
...Or was there something she was hiding?
I can’t imagine what she would want to hide on a battlefield.
Maybe just that there weren’t many bodies remaining, showing that they’d actually captured most of the soldiers and taken them back to Duskthorne?
I rub my temples now, thinking on it giving me a headache as it has these past few weeks every time I try to figure out what she’s up to.
It probably means nothing, and she did it just because she could.
Or perhaps, she didn’t even mean to cover the field.
Her power was never reliable all those years ago.
Sure, she’s gotten stronger since then, but what if that showing on the tundra was just a fluke, something brought on by fear for her life or some other heightened emotion.
Maybe Blackheart was torturing her, demanding that she use her Gift to fight against Amon’s forces—expecting fire, of course, thinking she was me.
None of it matters, not really. I’m a queen of two kingdoms. I’m the most powerful Gifted in all of Hypathia. And soon, I’ll be nearly unstoppable. But first, I have to let Barony and the others have their fun, let them believe that they’re in charge of all of this.
“Are you ready?” I ask him. The invitation had been sent a week ago, telling all royals in the Alliance that the time had come to claim their power, should they wish to.
Only three accepted: Queen Nicolette of Karthania, King William of Nocadia, and Queen Ruby of Enola.
Queen Pheobe of Abrasia and King Decosta of Helios had no interest in partaking in these “blasphemous experiments” as they’d called them, and though they pledged fealty to the Alliance, they did so out of fear, not out of lust for power.
“I am,” he says, voice even and sure, but I can see the tick in his jaw, the bead of sweat at his temple.
I don’t blame him for being nervous, but we know that the process has been perfected, enhanced even since the rats met Blackheart in battle.
Their bodies tired too easily, the Gifts taking too much, but the alchemists have worked nonstop for these last weeks to find a way to correct that.
The last round of rats were far superior, their power impressing even me.
No match for us, indeed, I sneer silently at my sister.
She will learn.
She will pay.
She will fucking kneel.
The other royals look on as Barony settles into his chair beside the iron table.
The other royals, understandably skeptical, insisted that Barony receive his Gift first and once he survived and proved his power, they would accept their own.
Being the only naturally Gifted among them, it was agreed that I would wait until they had undergone the process before I was given an additional Gift.
I agreed.
What’s another week in the grand scheme of this plan?
The lead alchemist, Klaus, meets my gaze for a heartbeat before nodding to one of his assistants.
A moment later, a young man is dragged into the room.
He’s been given some sort of drug to keep him subdued by the way his head lulls, barely aware of what’s going on.
They hoist him onto the table and secure him with leather straps around his wrists, ankles, chest, and thighs.
Makers, is all of that truly necessary? I notice the dark, rust-colored stains marring the iron table and tilt my head. Just how bad will this be?
Klaus explains the process for everyone, how it’s a mixture of elixirs and very old alchemy, and using star opals to hold and transfer the power of the Gift.
I don’t particularly care about the hows of it, so I don’t pay much attention, instead going through my plans over and over in my mind, making sure I’ve covered every detail, that I have everything in place and contingencies should anything go awry.
My mind drifts to what it might be like when I meet Thea again, assuming she makes it through the battle and actually faces me, that is.
Will she cower once she sees what I’ve become?
Beg for mercy? Kneel and accept my power and position?
And what will I do?
I...don’t know. Let her live, I think. As a prisoner, a permanent collar around that pretty little neck of hers, but I don’t think I like the thought of killing her. I will if it comes down to that, but I don’t think it would bring me joy.
The screams of agony tear me from my thoughts and I blink, focusing on what’s happening in front of me.
The Gifted strains against the straps holding him to the table, against Klaus’ hand on his chest, thrashing and crying and screaming.
Makers, the screaming. It sounds like the man’s very soul is being ripped from his body.
It is, I realize then. By taking his Gift, we’re taking his soul, his essence, his very being from him.
Bile rises in my throat at the thought, that small part of me that isn’t completely cold and unfeeling recoiling from what’s happening in front of me, screaming to stop it, that it isn’t right.
That part has never been strong enough to overtake the rest though, and it remains that way.
It quietly fades to the background as the star opal in Klaus’ other hand begins to glow.
Faintly at first, the tiniest shimmering gold, but it grows as the power fills it, the power of the Gift tearing free from the man on the table.
His wrists bleed as he thrashes, more blood flowing from his nose and ears, and soon his screams become garbled as he chokes on the blood pouring from his lips.
Queen Nicolette turns away and vomits quietly behind her chair and I turn to the others, quirking a brow.
They’ve paled, but their lunches remain firmly in their stomachs thankfully.
I turn back and see that the opal is glowing so brightly now that I have to squint against the light.
The man on the table screams and bucks one last time before his body goes still.
Klaus turns from the man who looks so much more like a boy now, young and frail in death, without so much as a glance.
Barony is practically salivating as Klaus brings the opal closer.
“Drink the elixir now,” he tells Barony.
He takes the stoppered vial from the table to his left and tosses the blue liquid back in one gulp.
He makes a face and I wonder what it might taste like, but I suppose I’ll find out for myself soon enough.
Klaus waits a few heartbeats and then nods. “Are you ready?”
Barony takes a deep breath and clenches his jaw. He casts one quick look to King William, then to me, and then looks back to Klaus.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
Klaus places his free hand against Barony’s chest, just as he had the Gifted.
Barony closes his eyes and the star opal flares once before the light slowly starts to dim as the power is transferred from the stone—into Barony.
He gasps and clutches the armrests, but remains steady.
We all watch in silent fascination as the light leaves the star opal and seems to fill Barony, a faint glowing beneath his skin, until finally the stone goes dull once more and Barony sucks in a sharp inhale, his body bowing from the chair before slumping.
He sucks in ragged breaths and King William and I rush forward at the same time.
We exchange a quick glance, understanding passing between us, and I give him a subtle nod.
There are no laws against a man marrying another man in Hypathia, but William’s father had arranged a marriage for him, and he’d had no choice but to go through with it.
That’s the only reason he and Barony didn’t join the kingdoms long ago, marrying each other.
If it were me, I’d simply have killed the queen and married whomever I pleased.
But I suppose murder isn’t most people’s first thought in these situations.
Barony lifts his head as we reach him, William and I both dropping to our knees in front of the chair. His forehead is covered in sweat, his head still bowed as he tries to slow his breathing.
“Barony?? Barony are you alright?” William asks, urgency and worry clear and sharp in his deep voice.
“Y-yes,” he gasps. “Yes, I’m...I’m fine...Great Makers, I can feel it...” He lifts his head to meet Williams' eyes, then mine, and puts a hand to his chest. “I can feel it inside me...spreading through my body, becoming a part of me...”