Chapter Twenty-One #3
“I am well-versed in the consequences.” His voice deepens as his gaze sears a path up my neck, and he leans closer to whisper, “I always stop and admire them whenever I see a patch growing on my travels. No matter where the Emperor has sent me, I have felt grateful for how plentifully they grow, since I can almost guarantee wherever I went, a patch would be growing as a reminder of you.” Varic looks around, assessing the risk before looking up at me through his lashes.
“Distractor,” I chide him, heart leaping with the need for him to be less of one with so many eyes studying our interaction. Yet when his lips rise in the corners, mine very nearly mirror him before catching myself to press them into submission.
“You and half of the Continent would think of me when viewing them,” I whisper, barely parting my lips to prevent them from moving. “It is well known to be part of my signet.”
“I think he was attempting to be romantic,” Malin says under his breath.
I scoff, disguising my amusement, when Lars turns to whisper, “Malin, leave it.”
Varic releases a breath as he offers me his hand, contact which is expected between us, as Hendry aided me in remaining steady as I climbed the small set of stairs plenty of times before this.
So I take his hand and wait for my Guards to join me on stage, then step forward to bow to the Emperor, who ignores my existence as I plant my boots to the right of his throne.
Wyrth and his Guards have already positioned themselves on his left, with Imelda sitting in the front row next to Drusilla, same as they do in the Throne Room.
“Felt like tempting fate today, huh, Euclid?” Ivo teases.
Varic does not answer him, nor does he give any indication he heard the snatcher.
Pride fills my chest with his refusal to give in and play the bully’s game, especially with the insult of referring to him by familial name.
His Majesty clasps his hands and strides toward the front of the stage, when he turns toward the Citadel to a cacophony of joyful voices carrying across the inlet.
“Merely children playing in the yard at the orphanage, Your Majesty,” Lorn explains, pushing his glasses back up the ridge of his nose.
“Silence them,” the Emperor commands.
I nod and swallow against the shame of being made to carry out this requirement.
“He can’t be serious.” Varic’s tone is hushed, though incredulous, and my heart slams against my ribs with the fear anyone else might have heard him.
“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to do this.
It is my Dragon bonding ceremony, and I couldn’t care less about the noise.
Let the children play. It’s not distracting me any.
” He glares at our ruler, who turns to me, displeased with my dawdling.
“How are you meant to cast your magic so far away?” Varic asks, turning his head to speak directly in my ear.
“Carefully,” I say, closing my eyes to seek out their happiness, which I will need to siphon in order to imbue them with a more somber mood.
“Can’t we send a falcon with a missive to have them play indoors?” Varic wonders aloud, and I release a breath, wishing I could explain how this is not about the children, or their noise.
Nor is His Majesty annoyed with their ability to both experience and express their joy. It is nothing more than an act of cruelty, which the Emperor tends to conflate with being powerful.
Cirrin’s hand winds its way around my wrist, bolstering me so I might be able to do this.
I release a breath and send my magic across the field, then over the drawbridge, to wind through the streets and past the towers, until their unbridled joy calls to me, so easy to discern from all the workers and households which do not contain the same emotion.
My stomach drops once I find the bundle of tiny vibrant tendrils ranging in color from bright yellow to deep orange, emitting from their tiny bodies in an explosion of enjoyment.
I refuse to siphon anything from them, determined instead to leave their excitement intact.
Instead, I imbue them with a sense of apathy, heart twisting with the speed at which their noise decreases, worrying I might have overdone the dosage.
Yet His Majesty nods in commendation, and I mirror him in acknowledgement.
“Welcome, esteemed guests,” Emperor Aldritch begins now that the sound of children playing has disappeared, allowing his voice to ring clear.
“We have the honor of witnessing one of the most sacred ceremonies in our Empire, one where Imperial Lead Guard Varic, in vowing his life to protect Imperial Grand Witch Tasch, will be selected by one of our benefactors—the most powerful, cunning, and ruthless of creatures—who will honor him with the formation of a blood-bond.” His Majesty’s mood remains stable as I monitor it, allowing my lungs to depress with relief, though he never remains content for long.
Imperial Priest Kado strides over and announces, “Now, please focus your attention on the banners as we reveal Imperial Lead Guard Varic’s signet!” A symbol selected in part by the Dragons, though traditionally they do not join us when debuting it.
Four acolytes from the Temple of the Dragon step forward, each wearing a crisp black uniform. They each take hold of the golden tacks securing the black fabric over the signet banner while I allow my gaze to stray to Varic and watch his reaction as the Emperor calls, “Acolytes, reveal the signet!”