Chapter Four
Birthday
Six Years Later
Today is my thirty-second birthday, and it may be my last.
Twenty-six years spent as the Emperor’s captive. Nearly three decades since he stole me away, then a scrawny young witch, cursed with the level of power I wield.
Forced into a role where I must siphon His Majesty’s distress, all while enforcing compliance from those with whom he interacts. Aiding our resident tyrant in gaining more power and influence, while everyone on the Continent knows he controls the power contained within the Imperial Grand Witch.
My hands shake as I rub my face, willing any semblance of wakefulness to enter my limbs when Malin’s hazel eyes catch on mine.
He stands mostly in shadow between the arched windows and the foot of my bed, with the only exception being the stray golden rays casting over his medium-brown skin, framing the sharp cut of his jaw and cheekbones up to the neat knot he has secured his long brown hair in atop his head with a few golden pins.
“I’m surprised Drusilla isn’t here.” His deep voice helps usher in a wave of wakefulness while my eyes trace the gold threads along the seam of his uniform, and I smile at his having selected one of the finer designs to wear today—potentially in my honor.
“Agreed. She’s usually here much earlier,” I say before taking the glass of water from the purple plume of Malin’s magic swirling around it.
I tip it back to take a sip, then place it on my nightstand once I have finished.
Fray releases a breath, leaning his tall frame against the gray stone wall by my headboard. His eyes flick from the window down to his sketchbook, which he braces at a funny angle over his knee to draw some image which will surely take my breath away, should he ever choose to share it with me.
A powerful presence seems to call our collective attention as we each turn to observe the world beyond the glass panes.
I toss my legs over the side of the mattress with the urge to study the world outside our gilded prison cell.
My aching joints make their complaints known as they crack and pop with every minute movement, but I move on despite the searing pain.
“Remind me, is today your ninety-second birthday?” Lars teases, an ornery glint shining from his bright blue irises, and I spin around to pin his gaze.
He pauses his work on the newest trinket he’s whittling to stare up at me in amusement, clearly deeming riling me up is worthy of a break from his work.
I shake my head at him, taking the healthy glow emanating from his typical pallid complexion as a sign that the healers have already come by to imbue my Guards with the energy needed to make it through the day after another night of watching over me.
Their vow requires they utilize magic to be able to remain awake and protect me at all times—day and night.
His annoyingly energized expression lifts in what can only be described as a self-satisfied grin when he holds his new project up to show me, and I can’t help but smile back at the figure of a tiny Dragon which he painstakingly carved from a hunk of pine.
He must have snuck it in his pocket the last time we were allowed outside.
“So fucking rude,” Fray defends me against Lars, who taunted me about my aching body.
“Fray.” Hendry’s bright blue eyes flash with annoyance as he glares from the center of the room. “Watch your language.”
Fray’s black eyebrows rise as he pushes off from the wall, snapping his sketchbook closed as he walks closer, moss green irises imploring with intensity from within his pale complexion.
“All I meant is it’s rude to make such statements when we all know what the Emperor requires of her.
” My senses fill with his fresh, earthy scent.
The way I imagine a real home would smell.
Like the air after it rains is emanating from the pressed fabric of his uniform.
A woven tie cinches the front of his shirt, showing off his V-shaped waist beneath the broad shoulders the others like to tease are his wings.
“Less so lately,” Malin interjects.
“Which is just as concerning,” Cirrin begins, carefully closing the pocket-sized compendium of fairy tales he always carries, stowing the well-worn, blue book within his more celebratory uniform. “Since he has proven to be incapable of making rational decisions outside of her influence.”
Fray sighs. “I was merely mentioning how we have all observed her steady decline, which is why I think it cruel to joke about the breakdown of her body.” His gaze darts from Lars to me.
“I, for one, am glad you were born on this day.” Several black strands of his hair fall over his forehead as he snaps his head around to glare at Lars.
“Thirty-two years ago.” He turns back to me with a silent apology.
The sentiment is too much. I cannot allow the swarm of emotions to deplete me this early, so I drop my gaze to trace the wispy black ink embedded in the pale skin on his neck.
A tattoo depicting two separate Dragons curving around from the back to breathe a circle of flames over the center of his throat.
An image which pierces my heart with envy as I yearn to be allowed to express myself as freely.
A right which will never be afforded to one holding my title.
Though, since he has done me a kindness, I force a smile.
One he will see straight through, making its purpose lacking as I turn back to the arched glass doors matching the windows on either side.
“Lars means no harm,” Malin says, eyes fixed on the large wooden doors leading to the hallway beyond.
Cirrin spares an apologetic look at Fray before bringing his kind brown eyes to mine. Dragon scale embroidery circles the seams of his cuffs, which rise as he offers his warmth in the form of his hand carefully clasping around my wrist. “Are you okay?”
I nod, and he shakes his head, releasing a hint of the refreshing botanical scent from the hair oil he uses to style his short black coils.
A light blue mist emanates from the center of his palm, imbuing me with the cool sensation of healing, which soothes the sharp edges carving a path of pain inside my body, eases the tension in my shoulders, and instills the necessary energy to make it through yet another day.
“Thank you,” I say, and Cirrin smiles in response while I stare up at him and study the spectrum of light dancing across the peaks of his cheekbones, creating patterns between the highlights and shadows cast upon his deep-brown skin.
I turn to peer out past the gray marble balcony and the citadel wall made of the same gray stone surrounding the towering Temple of the Dragon and several prestigious universities.
Waves crash over a pebbled shore on one side, while wind billows through the vast pine forest all the way to the mountain our Imperial Palace is carved within.
Shimmering light drags my attention down to the rippling water within the inlet, and I gasp as the deep purple frills of our resident sea serpent, Tiam, break through the surface.
He swims so elegantly with the lagoon separating the Palace and the curved wall around our Capital.
His vibrant scales glint and gleam every time they break through the water, distracting me until I become lost in studying his movement.
“Do you see Tiam?” Fray asks, as his eyes dart from Hendry to the window, rising up on his toes in an attempt to catch a glimpse without alerting his leader.
I turn to respond as he folds his arms across his trim chest, straining his tattooed neck as far as he can to see out the window from where he stands. I nod and he drops back down to his heels with a shake of his head.
Voices clamor from the docks, as Imperial servants all pause their work to marvel at the sea serpent.
Even the telekinetic Imperial Army soldiers, whose sole purpose is to detect any shifts in energy to catch anyone using unsanctioned magic, stop and stare, offering me a rare opportunity to share in this moment with the citizens who rely on my power to protect them.
The ones who expect my magic to grow as it should, and whom I will soon disappoint once they eventually learn it has been depleted for some time. If only they realized how our Empire may be reverting to the tumultuous times before our ruler used me to mitigate his every whim and tantrum.
The prickle of someone watching falls over my being, and I turn to the culprit, then release a breath, as it’s merely the Emperor’s gray marble statue staring back.
His Majesty’s glare is carved into stone three times over, intended to look out over all of the land he rules.
A reminder to every citizen that he is always watching, through his network of spies, or otherwise.
“Morning,” Hendry says, coming to a halt on my right, and my chest constricts as his place is on my left.
This small shift in our routine conjures an itch beneath my skin, and I yearn to either claw at it or yank him over to his rightful place. Though he wouldn’t understand, and I do not have the energy to explain it, so I endure the discomfort while forcing myself to turn and address him.
“So it is,” I agree.
A small smile curves the corner of my lips at how similar to Fray he is by choosing to wear the same plain, black uniform with our sigil over the left chest, and a single gold line running down the front where it fastens.
The gold hilt of his sword worn in a hip holster is the most adorned thing on his being.
The same sword each of my Guards must wear, should our magic be rendered useless in an attack.
He peers back at me with interest, yet it does not prevent me from studying the way his flaxen hair nearly blends into his white skin, making his deep blue eyes even more intense when I finally give in and meet them.
His head nods back toward the window, and we each turn and stare at the citizens that have gone back to their Imperial duties, carrying cargo to and from ships.
"They are why I agreed to this appointment at only twenty years old. Knowing that together we could all do some good.” He glances back at the rest of my Guards, as if they all discussed this and allied themselves before agreeing to take their vows.
“Knowing we could protect the witch capable of preventing our Emperor from becoming even worse. Especially since you are an Anomaly who was kept separate from the rest, just barely an adult yourself.” He forces out a somber breath.
"No one so young should ever be forced into a role like yours, Tasch. "
His sentimentality fills my chest with a warmth I am unused to from him, and I turn away to keep from letting him see the effect it’s had. Then a wry smile works its way up my face, and I add, "You only have two years on me, Hendry, yet you act as if you are ancient by comparison.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, and mine follows as I claim this victory of cracking through the tough exterior my Lead Guard wears so often, it twinges my heart to witness its absence.
“My point is, we have all made our choice.” Hendry turns to face me and offers his hand—not to shake in agreement, but as if to hold—either in solidarity or comfort, I am uncertain since this has never happened before this moment.
I pull in a breath and shakily place my palm over his when this sorcerer determines he is not finished surprising me as he covers the back of my hand with his opposite, clasping mine between them with a squeeze before turning to peer down at the dock workers.
A wistful expression overtakes his countenance as he shifts to look back at me with meaning.
“We do this for them.” He indicates by raising our hands and casting them toward the forest beyond the citadel, over the gray stone city bustling with movement beyond the wall, to those carrying goods to and from ships.
“We do this so they might have a better world than our ancestors. We endure for their right to a better life.”
“Could you have refused your appointment, had you believed differently at the time?”
“If you truly are curious, I can try to get in the mindset required for me to be hypothetical.” I nod in encouragement, while Fray snorts from behind us.
“Were I to have believed differently—or had the Dragons approved of my appointment, and I disagreed, I could have refused it. Since our very soul has to be in agreement with the vow, along with all other requirements.”
He squeezes my hand and taps his ring finger into my palm two times—our typical silent signal that he’s received whatever emotion I’ve sent him when we cannot communicate otherwise.
Tears well along my lash line, and I clear my throat, needing to know. “What could have possibly summoned such sentimental reflection from you this morning?”
His shoulder nearest me rises then falls while he gently squeezes my hand one last time before releasing it to hang by my side.
“It is a rare occurrence for us to be left without interruption, and the sentiment is one I think of often, especially when things get harried. A necessary reminder of why our sacrifices matter. We carry a different sort of responsibility since we were born with abilities capable of ensuring the Emperor’s behavior is contained as much as possible.
Regardless of the hardships that come with it, requiring us to forgo the life we might have dreamed of as children.
Not a small thing to relinquish, yet we continue.
Because we do this for them.” He gestures to the citizens past the glass.
“And perhaps the fact it is your birthday has conjured some atypical emotion in me.” A twinkle glints in his eyes as I forget how uncomfortable I was when he first came to stand beside me.
“Impossible,” I tease, and he shakes his head, opening his mouth to respond when each of the five locks securing my door turn at once.