Chapter Forty
Surprise
My pulse thrums with the beat of an Ampara Deicra war drum, rising in tempo with the panic coursing through my veins.
Imperial Guards pull the grand black doors open, then stare off into the distance as they grant us entry to the Emperor’s chambers.
Everything in me screams to turn around and keep from becoming trapped in a way I’ve always feared.
If I have learned one thing from bringing others’ worst nightmares to light, it’s that there are worse kinds of entrapment than the one in which I’ve been imprisoned.
And I don’t know if I am strong enough to survive it.
Every step reverberates up my bones as a special kind of dread rises from my stomach, expanding inside my chest, with my heart lurching after every door we pass. Any of which would be better for us to enter than the last.
Two more doors remain on either side of the hall as we near the end, and my lungs freeze when Drusilla comes to a stop outside of the Emperor’s bedchamber.
“What is the reason we are to enter His Majesty’s quarters?” Varic asks, rolling his shoulders down and back.
“Right this way,” Drusilla says, gesturing for us to follow.
Varic’s ears burn bright crimson, and the flush seems to spread with the level of his anger, appearing as if it bleeds down the side of his neck as it reddens.
My body gravitates toward him as we step over the threshold, wishing more than anything to be able to pull him away, filled with the need to bring him comfort. Yet the vast emptiness of this room leaves us without any viable options to draw any closer to each other without notice.
I scan the space, hoping for any indication as to why we are here, having spent a lifetime living in fear of the day the Emperor’s obsession grew to the point he would force me to be more than just the witch who stands beside him.
Terrified that this might be the moment his ownership of my being shifts into something more physical than controlling my breathing.
Feeling as if I might burst, I blurt out, “May we know the purpose of our presence being required in His Majesty’s bedchamber?” While he is drunkenly reveling in having forced me to dance with him and after admitting his frustration with being made to sleep under separate roofs.
“His Majesty demanded that you use his bathing chamber to attend to your needs this morning,” she says, removing a black towel from the cabinet.
“Not to worry,” Drusilla says. “I sent for your things.”
Varic’s nostrils flare, his disdain validating my own. Though the mention of my hygiene items is a reminder of his theory—that they are each dosed with the essence of Dragon’s Fury.
Drusilla starts to remove my boots, then proceeds to tear off my riding leathers while my vision crowds inward, sensing the frenetic energy within my Guards as they surround me, eyes locked on each point of entry.
Voices carry from the connected hallway, and I freeze, standing naked in the center of the Emperor’s bathing chamber.
Varic’s eyes catch mine, and I bite my lip in amusement as his brown skin pinkens with splotches spreading up to his hairline so intense his ears now appear to be burnt from too much time in the sun.
He averts his eyes quickly to stare at the dark wood door just before Drusilla tugs me toward the sunken marble tub.
She gestures for me to step within, then shoves my shoulders down until I am submerged to my collarbones in the opaque, scalding water.
A plume of purple mist protects me from pitching to the side, as Varic and Lars force their way past Drusilla, standing guard on either side of the tub with their eyes trained toward the doors.
Drusilla steps away to retrieve a basket filled with my soaps and sponges, while Varic tracks her movement and follows until she drops to her knees beside the tub.
Varic bends down and uncaps one of the bottles while Drusilla sneers at him. He nods in confirmation, scenting what he suspected would be there.
“Who makes her care items?” Varic asks, rubbing some of the lotion over the sigil tattoo on the back of his hand, apparently testing its effects on himself while I quirk a brow in his direction.
“The same artisans who make all of our care items,” Drusilla says.
“Does anyone else use the same formula as she does?” Varic raises his brows as she begins to use said products on my being.
“Not as far as I know.” She looks up at him while he rises to stand. “Why do you ask?”
“She continues to have some sort of reaction, and I want to determine if it may be one of the ingredients causing it.”
Drusilla scoffs. “I think we all know what this ‘reaction’ is.”
“I have yet to identify anything like her signature scent, and I am interested in learning which botanical essence it is derived from,” he explains, plausibly enough.
“Hmm,” Drusilla drones, lathering a washcloth. “I can’t say I’ve ever smelled it in any other soaps or lotions I’ve come into contact with, though I am sure you could send a missive to inquire.”
I narrow my eyes on Drusilla, who seems genuine in making this suggestion, and far more helpful than I’ve observed in her.
“They have arrived,” Malin says.
I startle once the doors burst open, despite the warning.
“You spoiled little thing.” His Majesty’s deep voice echoes off the stone walls in the vast chamber as he strides in with his Guards behind him.
“Your Majesty, might the Imperial Grand Witch be granted some privacy during her bath?” Varic asks, stepping before him.
“Nonsense,” the Emperor scoffs, gesturing for Varic to move out of his way.
“It’s just that since your tub is sunken, there is more of a chance of—”
“One of them catching sight of her flesh?” His Majesty jests. “I understand your concern, and perhaps you think the same about yourself and the rest of her Guards?”
“Of course not, Your Majesty. I understand our purpose is protecting her, even while bathing. However, we respect her by keeping our eyes averted.” Varic glares at Ivo, who knowingly grins back at him.
“Her sense of modesty is the least of my concerns,” Emperor Aldritch intones, stepping around Varic who pivots to walk ahead of him, again.
Each of my Guards moves to stand before His Majesty’s while an amber wave of protection sluices through the water and adheres to my skin—and I swallow against the constriction as Varic uses his magic to show me he sees my discomfort, he’s here, and he will do everything he can to help me feel safer.
Regardless of the warmth from his shield, I cannot help but shudder as the Emperor drops to his knees and I grimace when he rakes his fingers through the opaque water between my knees.
“Think of how many witches would beg to be spoiled the way I spoil you.” He laughs.
“The number is immeasurable, Your Majesty,” I purr, turning my stomach.
“Too true, my little witch,” he says with a tap on the tip of my nose, leaving a drop to roll down my lips where it spreads across the seam as he takes hold of my chin and demands I look up at him.
“You owe me an apology.”
“My apologies for failing to show my gratitude, Your Majesty.” I swallow against the scented water I inadvertently allowed in, attempting to withhold the gagging sensation building behind my jawline.
He huffs out a breath as a chill rolls up my arm when Drusilla reaches down to grasp my wrist to scrub at Varic’s force-shield covering my skin. The Emperor’s eyes appear to darken as he watches with more intent than I’m used to him having when it comes to me physically.
This shift in him feels dangerous, with a new fear clawing at my insides, far worse than any of the times he’s wrapped his magic around my neck and choked me half to death.
“You don’t know what you’ve done, do you? Want to play a game? I do like games,” he drawls.
“May I know the rules?” I ask, with no choice but to obey him.
“I will remind you of times you wronged me while you guess what you did to still owe me an apology.”
I nod, and study him closely, as he should be too drunk to ensnare me in such a delicately laid trap.
Drusilla scrubs at my back, so I cradle my knees against my chest to better conceal my breasts.
“Havenfield,” Emperor Aldritch says in a neutral tone.
My attendant’s cool hands still as she sits back on her heels.
“I don’t recall Havenfield, Your Majesty.”
“Of course you don’t. You were only seven.”
“May I have more clues to what I did to make proper amends?”
“When we arrived in Havenfield, you stepped away from me and your sworn duty, to help a young witch without my permission.”
The Emperor’s eyes glaze over while I try to remember ever having left his side, especially not with my old Guards watching over me. With little-to-no ability to take unsanctioned actions, I have existed under the watchful eyes of his spies ever since he first stole me away from my magical school.
“I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“You failed to report rebels among our servants.”
My brow furrows, and I scramble to understand his meaning.
“The laundresses who were gossiping?” I ask, and his expression settles, clearly affected by the amount of wine he has imbibed, moving between such drastically different events without having resolved the questions of the former. “The first you required me to execute?”
Varic’s mood shifts to one of enraged fury—only slightly more alarming than the rage he felt a moment before—with the reminder of what I was made to do half our lifetime ago.
“Yes.”
“I am sincerely sorry I did not come to you first,” I lie.
“You told your Guard without ever reporting what you overheard to me.”
Drusilla sighs, having been the one to divulge the information to His Majesty in my failure to do so. My naivety in thinking I could merely mention something I knew to be forbidden without dire consequences.
“I am sorry I did not report it to you immediately,” I try, hoping it works.
He leans in, gray eyes piercing. “I do not believe you are being sincere, my little witch.”
I swallow hard, trying my best to hide my body’s reaction to the stench of his sulphur and wine breath filling my lungs.
“You are a disappointment. Just like your brother.”
My heart plummets and rage courses through my veins, with the urge to reach up and grab hold of the fucking snatcher who dares speak of my brother this way, when Varic suddenly rushes forward so fast he kicks the lip of the black marble tub, pulling me back to my senses.
“My brother was dead before he took his first breath,” I snarl.
“No,” His Majesty intones, and my breath ceases when he shakes his head and lunges for me. I wince with the blast of pain shooting up my spine once it smacks against the tub wall and gasp for breath as his fingers dig into my throat.
Fear encroaches, until Malin’s purple magic swirls around his wrist to let me know he sees me, and he’s here, until he makes a sprig of it solid and taps Varic’s ankle with a specific pattern.
The Emperor’s fist scrabbles for purchase around the water sluicing up the force-shield protecting my throat, giving up and settling for bracing my chin instead.
He tilts my head back when warmth of a different sort imbues my chest—made up of adoration, or something similar—oddly mixed with fear and loss, tinged deeper red within a pinkish amber.
Whatever it is, it must come from Varic. Which means he’s influencing me.
But no. He’s not imbuing me. This is different. He’s sharing his own feelings. Distracting me from my own terror.
Then a soothing, cooling sensation flows into my body—tinged with Varic’s yellow amber—and my cheeks heat with concern. Because Varic cannot keep doing this. He cannot get away with sending me his healing forever, and no matter what he says, my comfort is not worth the risk.
“He’s doing it again, Your Majesty,” Danor says. “Imperial Lead Guard Varic is—”
“Enough!” The Emperor yells.
“Your Majesty,” Varic says, bending next to the Emperor’s crouched frame.
The Emperor ignores him and brings my face so close to his he barely has to lean over to press the chilled tip of his nose to my cheek. His gray eyes darken and narrow, and my chest practically caves in from the fear of what he’s about to do next when sky blue magic filters in.
My Guards communicated without notice, because Varic has parted the shield for Cirrin’s magic to permeate.
I stare out of my periphery, in awe of their care for me.
Malin sends his magic up and around the Emperor’s knee where it tugs like a rug, freeing my face from his grasp as he falls.
Drowsiness sets in, and my vision fades, with all other sound closely following.