Chapter Nineteen #2
Cirrin brings a plush chair over. He offers his hand to help ease me back into the seat before I rest my forearms over my thighs and bide my time and energy for when the Emperor inevitably requires me and my power.
Malin hands me a glass of water, to which I nod my thanks, then he steps away to survey the surroundings.
Fray sets a small table beside me while directing a server to bring me a tray of refreshments.
I smile faintly and lean back in the chair, attempting not to fall asleep amid the Imperial Army commanders carrying on around us.
The tray of food appears, and Lars leans down as he places it over the side table, remaining bent over as he whispers, “What exactly happened between you two in that tent all those years ago?” He rises slowly, searching my expression, and I cough in response, barely able to swallow the morsel I’ve finished chewing when he raises his hands in defeat.
“Never mind,” he says, blue eyes shifting to where Varic stands by my left side.
“Look,” Lars says, clapping Varic on the shoulder. “I know you’re used to life on an encampment where you can get away with being less formal—”
“You mean where my life, and the lives of those I was responsible for, were in a constant state of peril, while you,” Varic says, “and every other Guard get to live in this Palace, where you are afforded the privilege of focusing on such trivial things as decorum, due to the safety we provide you through sacrifices you cannot even begin to imagine.”
Lars’ face flushes so bright it nearly matches the red of his magical signature. I push up from my seat in a dizzying rush and take two steps forward until I stand between them, thankfully intervening before Lars uses his speed in reaction.
“Whoa,” I say, placing a defensive palm on Lars’ chest. “Whoa,” I repeat, though this time I turn to Varic with a wildly hammering heart.
“Either you two get your emotions under control, or I will do it for you.” I alternate glaring at each of them in equal measure, ensuring they know I mean every word.
Their shoulders drop and their expressions resemble disdain rather than loathing.
“Now, if you can promise to save your quarrel for when we are safely back in my bedchamber, I need to avoid the possibility of losing consciousness in front of an audience.”
Varic’s arm instinctively wraps around the small of my back, moving toward me so naturally, I don’t stand a chance at avoiding his support. He presses in gently, shuffling with my movements as I ease back into the chair.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
I nod, though I shouldn’t, with the constriction around my heart letting up as my magic senses his own relents.
He hovers by my knees, and I wave him off without looking, dismissing him in much the way the Emperor does me, bringing a different kind of heat to my cheeks.
I’m incapable of hiding the effect his touch has on my body—the intensity seems to increase to the point I swear I’ll combust if his skin grazes mine one more time tonight.
Malin looks from me to the food and back, so I sigh and pluck an olive from a bowl, forcing it between my teeth with exaggerated motions, putting on a show to prove I’m eating something, even though I ate dinner not that long ago.
If anyone should be eating, it should be them.
No matter how many years we exist with the rules dictating I sit and eat while they stand and watch—it will never feel right.
Food is meant to be shared, yet they are made to sustain themselves in the shadows.
The most venerated in their magical forms should be treated with honor, yet their role as my Guards strips them of so much.
The food itself has little effect, and sitting seems to allow the weight of all that’s happened to settle over me.
If the chances of finding the Emperor in any state of undress were smaller, I might be bold enough to ask that we seek him out in the off chance he might dismiss me back to my chambers.
“We need to take her back to her chambers,” Varic says, and I straighten, looking up at him in confusion.
“She has to be released,” Malin explains.
“You mean she has to stay here until the Emperor allows her to retire for the evening?”
Malin nods, and Varic rakes his fingers through his hair before turning back to me, unfairly loosening several strands to fall over his forehead.
“Think you can walk?” Varic asks, and I open my mouth to tell him I have no choice when he casts his magic higher to support me. “We need to go speak with the Emperor.”
His pulse pounds heavier in the protection he weaves around my skin, and my cheeks heat from his attentiveness.
I rise in answer, with the will to fight him no longer present, taking the lead with the support of his magic as we move through the expansive space which has become crowded.
I avert my eyes as best I can from the piles of beings undulating on and around various plush surfaces.
We shift as one past their moving forms on our way to our target, having spotted his silver hair when we rounded the corner. My pulse pounds louder the closer we move toward His Majesty, and heart hammering with fear, I reach for Varic’s arm to stop him.
He drops his gaze to the unconventional contact I am making by holding his bicep as I lean in to whisper, “He must be so drunk at this point. It is not wise for us to interrupt him.”
He drops his head to whisper, “Perhaps his being drunk will work in our favor, then.” He straightens, and a hazy white film closes in from the edges of my vision.
“Hendry would have never sought him out, nor would he have ever dared to request anything on my behalf,” I blurt, and retract my hand from his arm to clasp before me.
Varic turns to face me, glancing over his shoulder to check the Emperor isn’t watching. “I understand it may be challenging for you to adapt to my style of leadership.”
Lars scoffs and then coughs to try to disguise it.
“And while I cannot bring Hendry back,” Varic says, and my throat tightens, “I will do what I can to ensure you are rested.”
A tingle creeps within the heat growing beneath my cheeks as he winks at me before turning back to address the Emperor, who remains, as ever, under the watch of his Guards standing on the opposite side of the group engaging with His Majesty.
“Your Majesty,” Varic says, and the Emperor spins to stare at him, pupils wide from luss essence, naked aside from the ever-present goblet of wine clutched in his fist. “Thank you for hosting this incomparable celebration in honor of my appointment.”
I grimace, first from Varic’s formal wording, then from the resounding smack of the Emperor’s hand on my Lead Guard’s back.
“You’ve certainly earned it,” Emperor Aldritch says, shaking Varic aggressively.
“Would it serve Your Majesty to dismiss Imperial Grand Witch Tasch for the night?” Varic asks.
The Emperor’s gaze darts over to me, narrowing.
“Of course, my little witch.” He steps closer, and a shudder rocks through me when his hand snatches my chin in his oily fingertips. I stifle a gag as he forces my head to tilt back. “Go. Get some rest. You’ll need your strength for what I have planned.”
The knot in my throat drops to the depths of my stomach once he releases me, and I suppress the need to wipe my skin clean.
A gentle hand circles my upper arm, leading me to my bedchamber. I let out a breath of relief and smile at Cirrin as his magic does its best to heal the cavernous need within me. One which only seems to grow, no matter his strength.
Though a temporary fix on a crumbling bridge is better than nothing, I suppose.
“Thank you, Cirrin.” His answering smile contains a power all its own as I swear it heals me in a way no magic ever could. “Your compassion means more than you could ever know.”