Chapter Five
Preparations
“You didn’t mention anyone was coming,” I say, turning to Malin.
He shrugs. “You weren’t doing anything in need of hiding.”
Hinges groan as the door swings open, allowing my assigned attendant, Drusilla, to trail in, looking older than thirty-four years with her straight white hair pinned back in a plain style behind her head, and the boxy shape of the Imperial black servant dress swallowing her slight frame.
“Emperor Aldritch requires you at breakfast,” she says, light gray eyes staring in my direction.
I nod, though she pays no attention, stalking away toward the bathing chamber.
A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I slowly spin to follow, then pause, heart hammering, when a loud caw draws my attention back to the balcony.
My pulse takes on an ominous thrumming as I stare out at the crow perched atop the railing, cocking its head from side to side before dipping forward to indicate the floor of the balcony.
The thrum increases with the threat of punishment should I stall much longer when I stare through the glass at a fully intact fish skeleton. Not a bone missing and bright white—almost gleaming—having been thoroughly picked clean.
My stomach drops. I do not need this. Not now.
Not if this message is intended for me. An omen conveying a need for resilience, when it is a resource of which I am depleted.
Yet the potential other meaning is one I dare not dwell on, as I am unable to spare the energy to dream up what sort of drastic change might be prophesied, since a clean fish skeleton brought to one’s doorstep, especially when delivered by a crow, is meant to remind one to be strong for the upcoming challenges; and to bring fortitude for the intended receiver of the message.
To keep going when it all feels for nought and to find strength to endure what is coming.
The crow caws once more before taking to the sky, leaving me to shudder.
This could be nothing, simply a crow showing off a fish skeleton it cleaned so expertly.
But why fly to my balcony out of every one jutting from the face of the Palace?
Why caw to grab my attention, then leave the bones behind, as if in warning?
“Tasch,” Hendry says as I turn to him. “You can do this. I’ll be right here with you.”
My lips pull to the side as sentimentality swarms my being, prompting me to pull in a deeper breath as I nod at Lars, who steps to my opposite side while the rest of my Guards follow directly behind.
They’ve created a veritable wall of Anomalies, the thought of which almost cracks my tough exterior.
Lars nudges my side and winks once I look over at him. I shake my head and huff out a breath at my inability to subdue the smile he so expertly pulls from me.
Luckily, Hendry notices nothing, his own stony exterior remaining intact as he leans in to verify the water closet inside the bathing chamber is not, in fact, housing an assassin. He waves to grant me the only privacy I’m allowed behind the door once I close it.
My eyes fall shut as I take care of my needs, and I revel in the short-lived reprieve.
Drusilla waits impatiently by the closet entrance, tapping the toe of her boot as I walk to the sink. Urgency descends on my being as my Guards all follow and watch while I wash my hands and brush my teeth under pressure of keeping my attendant waiting for me to finish.
Hundreds of Imperial black dresses hang from golden hangers along the curved golden rail in my closet, meticulously organized according to fabric and sleeve length.
Each design boasts a mix of severe shoulders and low-cut necklines, all with a high collar in the back, and many bearing cuts of fabric taken out from the sides or back to reveal just enough skin to tantalize an audience.
Drusilla releases a grunt as she stretches her small form on top of a tufted footstool to reach one of the most structured Imperial black gowns.
Air billows through the slits on either side of the skirts as she brings it down to pair with the heeled boots and skin-tight leather pants she’s already selected.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I trace the severe cut of the neckline running dramatically from the signature high collar—the intense design His Majesty requires for my image.
Drusilla sweeps past us without a word to hang the day’s uniform on a gilded hook by the vanity. The energy shifts with her reappearance, and when she reaches for the silk tie to my robe, my Guards stand with their backs to me, facing the only doorway where anyone could enter.
A chill casts over my skin now that I stand naked, arms crossed over my chest as I wait for the creaking of the faucet to claim it will be roughly two minutes until the water reaches a level where she will allow me to step inside the lukewarm tub for my daily scrubbing.
Shivering in place, I count down from one hundred and twenty, wishing my magic could somehow warm me.
“Get in,” Drusilla commands when I finally reach the number two in my countdown, completing it internally while I follow her command and step over the rim to half submerge my body.
Closing my eyes, I angle myself to brace for the harsh scrubbing she’s about to impart as her fingernails drag over the surface of my scalp, scrubbing the suds through every strand and ensuring my hair smells of the rarest flowers in Ampara Deicra.
My vision is blurred as she uses a metal vessel to rinse my hair, and the doors to my bedchamber scream open, announcing the arrival of the only other being in the Empire who would have been granted entry aside from those already present.
Footsteps I could identify in my sleep draw near, and our ruler makes his appearance with each of his Imperial Guards trailing behind him.
His Guards range in age, as his protectors have been replaced after each of the others lost their life protecting one of the most reviled rulers in Ampara Deicra’s history.
Conversely, each of my Guards and I are merely a year or so apart, since His Majesty demanded my defenders be Anomalies like myself.
“You disappoint me,” Emperor Aldritch drawls with a sweep of his cape, storming forward with unnecessary aggression as his piercing gray eyes pin mine in place. “I slept fitfully because of your failure to properly imbue me after I retired to bed.”
Grabbing hold of the edge, I pull my chest flush with the porcelain, obscuring my naked form as much as possible as he storms closer and leans forward, allowing some of his silver hair to loosen from his slicked-back style and curve among the deep lines etched within his sallow complexion. “Fix it.”
Hendry wedges himself between the Emperor’s force Guard, Ivo, and the bathtub, while the rest of my Guards follow suit, preventing the Emperor’s Guards from staring me down.
This allows me the focus required to control my overwrought powers.
I’m thankful for the trill humming beneath my skin as I summon my magic, building up just enough to send it spiraling into Emperor Aldritch.
I seek and siphon his frustration and rage as shudders roll down my body from the toxic energy I absorb from him.
My fingertips and palms itch when Ivo cranes his neck to rake his gaze over the side of my breast where I have it pressed against the tub wall.
Hendry follows his line of sight enough to recognize my discomfort, and there’s a tugging of my heartstrings as he leans forward at such an angle that Ivo is forced to step back or he’d fall on his ass.
Hendry makes him stand at a distance where it would be impossible to see anything I prefer to keep hidden.
He narrows his eyes at Hendry, who seems to gloat in his ability to redirect Ivo’s attention.
I draw on the joy I felt witnessing Tiam swim through the inlet, of which I spare a sense of gratitude and send it to my Lead Guard, waiting until he turns while tapping his ring finger to his palm twice, indicating he’s received my silent missive.
I refocus on conjuring the excitement I experienced the last time my Guards participated in Dragon riding drills, and I mix it with the calm Cirrin provided in healing my pain and lethargy—giving the Emperor all I’ve gathered and leaving none for myself.
His shoulders drop, and his expression lifts while I brace against the edge of the tub to stay above the water line, with the sensation of ennui draining my energy.
“You will perform better next time, or I will prove my threats are neither empty nor idle.” His Majesty spins to leave, cape fluttering as Ivo sends a single bolt of blast magic toward Hendry’s chest—
Malin uses his own magic to shove Hendry back, the blast burning a lightning pattern into the wall behind where he stood. Cirrin sends a burst of blue-green mist toward Ivo’s head, making him miss a step as my healer nearly causes him to fall asleep while standing.
Ivo and the Emperor’s telekinetic Guard, Danor, both spin around, pinning their glares on Cirrin as he sheepishly grins and offers a jovial wave in parting.
“Fucking snatchers, the lot of them,” Lars grits out.
Hendry walks across the room to clap Cirrin on the shoulder. “You need to be more careful in the future. There’s no telling what they might do in retaliation.”
Cirrin shrugs. “You’re not making the same statement to Malin.”
“No, because what he did was protective, whereas your action was retaliatory.” Cirrin’s deep-brown skin reddens in near-perfect circles over his full cheeks when Hendry leans to peer meaningfully into his kind brown eyes. “I’m not upset with you, just concerned for our safety.”
Cirrin nods in understanding, chewing on his lower lip as his thoughts seem to take over.