Chapter Thirty-Nine
Reunification
After what seems like a thousand steps, my boots strike flat ground as we reach the landing into the catacombs. Sharp creaking pierces my eardrums when two Guards pry the old wooden door open, then stand aside to allow us entrance.
His Majesty and his Guards stride in first, then Lars steps forward to be near Malin, placing Varic and me in the center. The tight space shrinks around us—feeling as if the curved gray marble walls are all closing in on us.
I hold a connection with both Varic and the Emperor, though Varic’s anxiety takes precedence as it swirls inside his chest.
My hands itch with the need to soothe him in this space he’s required to endure because of the vow he’s taken for me.
Cirrin and Fray scan the Guards before and after us to keep watch, so I pull in a deep breath and grab hold of Varic’s hand with the safety they provide us.
Varic’s eyes dart to mine with panic overtaking his expression.
The light behind his eyes is dimmed, and my heart constricts, so I rub circles with my thumb to keep his attention.
His chest rises and falls, and I flare my nostrils while pulling in a breath, making my breasts strain within the leather stretched across my chest, nearly distracting him as his gaze flicks down before meeting my eyes again.
I purse my lips and let out the breath. His eyes fall closed, and a small smile curves up the side of his lips.
He squeezes my hand all four times, and I narrow my eyes, though no translation is offered. His chest rises as he breathes in through his nose, then his lips part.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “I don’t think you know what this means to me.”
Time slows as my chest constricts. He’s enchanted me. One whispered incantation—his sorcery.
I move in a haze, ensnared by his impossibly bright brown eyes—a tether I have no power to sever. His expression and posture have lifted; his gaze conveys both gratitude and awe. Yet there is still pain within him, despite his relaxed shoulders.
We walk hand in hand as my heart gallops with the risk we are taking. He turns to me, magnetically pulling, as his eyes lock on mine and he squeezes my hand another four times. He maintains our gaze, though the bright light streaming in ahead means we are nearing the end of the tunnels.
Something in his gaze—something about his tender somberness—strikes my chest because he’s doing it again.
He’s seeing me. All of me.
Fear prickles in my stomach, shifting me away from anything resembling happiness.
Varic silently mouths a message, with his lips forming the words, ‘look at me.’
Heat rises along my skin, and I wish to tell him ‘I am’.
He’s all I see.
And it terrifies me.
The bone-rattling boom of the door to the secret passageway makes the sinking feeling all the more real as we are once again trapped within the Imperial Palace. My vision goes in and out—blurring, then refocusing—as I move in and out of a trance-like state.
Varic squares his shoulders when it becomes apparent a large crowd awaits us dressed in their finest, regardless of the early morning hour, as they gawk from the perimeter with goblets of wine in hand.
“We have arrived!” His Majesty yells, turning my blood to ice as he stalks over, and just before he makes contact, the kiss of Varic’s magic trills up and over my skin before His Majesty can wrap his wormy hand around my arm and pull me flush with his chest. Raki’s bug eyes shift to stare at me as I gulp down my anxiety.
The Emperor’s wine breath blows the tiny hairs falling over my ear as he whispers, “What took you so long to get here this morning?”
My brows meet in the center as I stare forward, unsure what to say since he already had his answer from Varic. Though it doesn’t matter. I must appease him. “I apologize for keeping you waiting,” I say with false sincerity.
“Hmm.” He noisily licks his lips, pulling some of my stray hairs between them in the process. I suppress a shudder, feeling as if I’m vibrating from the inside as I pull my head just far enough to extricate each one, then grimace as the damp strands settle over my skin.
“You like to toy with my emotions. Making me wait. Making me worry!” He laughs into my hair, and I close my eyes against his outburst, his breath reeking of sulphur, steak, and wine.
A cough overtakes him, and he bends forward with the effort to catch his labored breath, allowing his grip around my arm to shift enough so I can pull away from his chest. “For now, we celebrate your safe return!”
My eyebrows rise higher than intended as the Emperor places a hand on the small of my back, and I recoil inwardly.
“Feeling cold, my little witch?” I shake my head demurely, needing to avoid the consequences of exhibiting needs in his presence.
“Hmm,” he says, assessing me with narrowed eyes as he swirls the red wine in his goblet before tipping it back in one swig. I swallow against my gag reflex while folding my hands in front of my lap like a good little witch.
An Imperial servant walks toward us carrying a gold tray with wine goblets, and I force my cheeks into a convincing smile of gratitude when made to take the stem between my fingers. Except what I need is a glass of water, breakfast, a bath, and some rest.
The crystal rim is cold against my parted lips as I appease His Majesty by taking a small sip, then walking with him and his Guards until he comes to a halt in the center of the dance floor.
A tingling sound rings through the vast room, and my eyes widen at the dagger repeatedly tapping against the side of the crystal in Emperor Aldritch’s hand.
“To my Imperial Grand Witch and her Imperial Guards!” Forced cheers surround us, and the noise is so intense, a familiar pressure builds inside my head, throbbing so hard it blurs my vision.
“Three attacks have been made on Imperial Grand Witch Tasch’s life in as many days, and yet, we have prevailed!
” More cheers bring on an incessant ringing in my ears, increasing the pressure in my skull as nausea sets in and auras invade my periphery.
The quick onset of dizziness—which I expect to come next—will be the most challenging to hide. Unless the auras overtake my vision.
General Sal stands out in the crowd, as he happens to be the only one glaring at me. I raise my brows in question, to which he rolls his eyes. My heart pounds against the bars of its cage, and I could swear the edges of my vision shrink inward.
“The Imperial Guards I have appointed to best protect our most precious asset have proven their loyalty to the Dragons and Ampara Deicra!”
“Our glorious Empire!” we chant, as he tips the nearly full goblet back, struggling to swallow so much at once.
The cacophony of those lost to their drunken revelry rattles my nerves as the guests spin and skulk, grabbing more wine from the golden trays held aloft by countless Imperial servers, weaving through the crowd as if it is perfectly normal to gather in celebration the morning after our Palace has come under attack—supposedly in an effort to assassinate me.
My gut roils, feeling sickened, yet unfamiliar.
It’s unlike anything I have felt before.
My body’s way of alerting me to something pivotal changing, something that must have occurred in my absence, stirring my insides with an acidity that neither my magic nor Cirrin’s could alter, while the significance of what’s being communicated is lost on me.
It’s like a moment in time is being etched inside my being while I have no way to decipher the language.
“Come!” Emperor Aldritch’s clammy hand grasps my own, pulling me to him as fear spears my limbs with where we are standing—suspecting he may force me to dance in my riding leathers under the watch of the tiny spy on his shoulder.
I’d rather fucking die.
“Dance!” he yells in my face.
Electrical pulses scatter across my palms, sparking in my fingertips until I force my eyes closed, summoning her to take over. The Imperial Grand Witch, who bows to His Majesty, as expected.
He gestures to the musicians quietly setting up their instruments along the far wall, and my heart stills with the somber tone rising from the string section, matching my mood exactly.
The Emperor reaches for my hand as the song picks up in tempo, and he leads us into the first steps of the dance.
He takes hold of one of my magically shielded hands in his own before pressing his free hand into the center of my back, forcing our chests to collide in the center.
My heart hammers from the effect of his control while a wyvern-hybrid made to spy on me stares from his shoulder.
I scramble internally, needing to pull on memories, desperate to access a sense of calm.
A familiar warmth builds between my breasts, prodding me to look for the impossibly bright brown irises causing it.
The Emperor spins us slowly, then my own eyes widen at Varic as he sends a light amber mist filled with healing, when he shouldn’t.
And even though the connection of our gaze is fleeting now that His Majesty spins me around the floor with more fervency, his interference cannot take the impact of our eye contact away from me.
Knowing Varic read my need. Knowing he really sees me.
“Your Majesty.” I startle and turn to where Danor, the Emperor’s telekinetic Guard, follows as we move across the dance floor, far more gracefully and steadily than I would have guessed possible with the amount of wine in which my captor must have imbibed.
“Imperial Lead Guard Varic is using healing magic.”
Time stops along with my heart.
“Nonsense. That’s impossible,” Emperor Aldritch claims.
Varic’s use of unsanctioned magic can be detected by him.
“There’s no denying it,” Danor claims, and I swear all color leaves my face.
“What seems to be the problem?” Malin asks from the opposite side of us, as both telekinetic Guards circle while we spin.
“Your Lead Guard is using unsanctioned magic,” Danor says.