Chapter Seventy-One
Duty
Varic’s absence seems to have detonated the structural integrity of my ribs, leaving an impossible weight to crush my heart and lungs, with every breath requiring too much effort. The thrum of my pulse is barely perceptible, and I hear nothing—neither inside nor outside of myself.
I pull on my magic and cast it outward, meaning to track him.
My heart kicks harder the longer it takes, and I begin to give up hope when it thrums once it finds him—returning his amber-hued anxiety and determination.
I siphon what I can of the fear he’s experiencing, stealing bits and pieces to feed myself.
I need to maintain this tether on him for as long as I can.
Needing to know if he’s alive, if my power will allow it.
What if he doesn’t make it to the Queen’s quarters?
White haze invades the edges of my vision, and the magic I send to him flickers.
What if he never comes back?
The haze grows thicker, crowding in until I can barely see anything.
What if I never see him again?
Every muscle in my body quakes, and I slam my eyes shut while everything in me pleads for the terrible images plaguing my mind to stop their assault.
I shudder when the subtle hum of his intensity coursing back through my magic snaps.
Losing my connection to him. Left without answers. Unable to sense him. Lost. Adrift.
Until the pain sinks in.
Claws and fangs belonging to every possible catastrophe that could befall him climb up the column of my spine and rip at my flesh to embed in my mind.
I yearn for the ability to dig my fingers in and pry out all the monstrous torments.
Feeling the dire need to throw each one to the ground like bloody leeches, so I might stomp them into nothing more than a mark of dried blood caking the underside of my boot and the fibers of the carpet.
I should have refused to let him leave this room.
Tension buzzes through the rest of my Guards as I force my power to remain connected to them at least, feeling as if they can send a static electrical charge from their bodies.
I should have agreed to let Fray fly me to the unknown Dragon den. Then maybe Varic would have stayed. Then maybe he would have been safe.
Cirrin’s hand mimics the motion of a metronome, raising his watch to check the time and letting it go to settle by his side, before he repeats the motion.
Fuck. I’ve fucked everything up with my stubborn nature again.
Malin stares forward at the door while Lars presses an ear to the seam between the molding, using his ridiculous ability to listen.
Regret fills my abdomen, and I choke back bile rising up the back of my throat.
I should have manipulated him into staying. I should have used my magic to save him.
Fray stares out the window, hands braced around my middle, preparing to grab me should he need to fly us away.
Cirrin checks his watch again. “Thirty minutes.”
Malin inches closer to the door before turning back to me with his brows furrowed. “Something small is approaching.”
“Don’t.” Lars reaches for Malin when a bone-rattling scratching sounds.
My heart lurches—knowing those talons—hearing the same every time they scrape over the Emperor’s shoulders.
Malin’s hazel eyes lock on mine as his face falls. “They’re here.”
Lars and Malin step back when the door swings open, and Fray forces me to stand behind him as we all turn and glare at the Emperor striding in.
“My little witch, you disappoint me.”
I step to the side and bow in atonement for whatever perceived misdeeds he is accusing me of. “Your Majesty.” I bend into another, deeper bow as he storms over to grasp my chin in his clammy fingers.
He clicks his tongue in disdain as his eyes rove over my face. “Where is your Lead Guard hiding?”
“He went in search of you,” Lars says with confidence, striding closer.
“Interesting, since we did not cross paths.”
“He assumed your Guards would not take you to your assigned suite.” Lars clears his throat. “He planned to search for you with stealth, rather than making himself an easy target.”
Emperor Aldritch narrows his eyes and announces, “We leave tonight!”
Cirrin opens his mouth, then slams it shut when the Emperor drops his hand to clamp his cold fingers around my neck so hard my pulse punches back.
Cirrin closes the distance, offering me the cool comfort of his healing. “Is that truly necessary, Your Majesty?”
The Emperor ignores him. “You did well, my little witch. You must have surmised our purpose was not to find whether Annovia orchestrated the attacks.” Saliva pools in the back of my throat, threatening to choke me while the urge to spit it at the Emperor grows stronger by the second. “We came to find their weakness.”
Of course. So you can exploit it in order to get what you really want—their spell books. Recipes needed to make spells and incantations. Secured by the very power he means to steal.
Lars and Malin close in with purple mist circling the Emperor’s wrist, studying us carefully when the tyrant pulls me close enough that the tips of our noses touch. “Your performance with the Prince led us straight to it.” His cheeks draw back in deep-set lines. “You.”
My face falls, and his fingers tighten. Suspicion roils in my abdomen, and I pull in a breath to try to use my magic with the need to know if he is lying, since this claim was made with less conviction than he uses with anything he believes in.
His sulphur and wine scent invades my senses when I send him a tendril of curiosity, returning more anxiety, apparently forgetting he cannot hide his deceit from me.
Yet all he gains is an empty attempt at shaming me—so I draw from my guilt at allowing Varic to leave and let him think it is due to what he claims.
“At least your hair has returned to its natural color.” He holds up a now dark brown tendril, then releases his hold on my throat.
A sneer rises as his lips curl back, and he spins around so fast, his cape ripples in the moonbeams cast through the window.
“We leave now.” His command hangs in the air as the rest of his Guards turn and follow him into the hall.
I turn and make eye contact with each of my Guards before stepping forward, taking my time while wishing to grab hold of Cirrin’s watch so I might know exactly how much time we have until Varic is meant to return.
My heart hammers as I near the threshold, knowing there is no way to stall for what remains of the hour before Fray is expected to leave with me.
I struggle to pull in breath, as the likelihood of Varic knowing where to look for us dwindles the farther we move from this room.
Yet I cannot stall forever. His Majesty pauses to glare back at me when I stop just outside the suite, head swiveling as I seek any sign of Varic.
Yet no one is there.
Until something moves out of the corner of my eye, and I turn—
Varic?
No. I release a breath when it is just another empty hall.
My heart plummets to my stomach. This is such a cruel trick of the mind.
Taunting me as we turn the corner. Making me swear it’s him every time I see a shadow, or even the hint of one.
Swearing beyond anything that it is none other than him walking in our direction, until I turn and find I am wrong. Every time.
Because he isn’t coming.
It’s only the Emperor and his Guards, who take turns glancing back and tittering.
My own Guards remain quiet as we amble down this corridor without a single Annovian servant or guard—making us easy targets were those who set the explosion to happen upon us.
Why is His Majesty taking this risk? Especially without my force Guard here to shield me? Why must we leave in the darkness of night, rather than try to remain safe within the walls of the castle until sunrise?
My heart constricts as I see a dark form to the left—where Varic is meant to be standing—yet when I turn to find him, the ache of dread fills my stomach.
It was just another shadow, cast behind a large silver urn in the corner.
I crane my neck to peer around the thick white molding and shake my head, needing my mind to rid me of these torturous projections.
I need him to hurry up and find us. To simply exist within any of the shadows I swear could be him. Walking down the hall to greet me. To take my hand and spirit me away from this.
My power feels thin when I send it out and try to find him. Casting through walls to return with the fear trembling in every being until my own body shakes from the effort, I retract my power with a silent curse.
His Majesty strides confidently ahead as the question I need to ask him sticks to the walls of my throat, needing to learn why he has not sent anyone in search of Varic and what he intends to do should my Lead Guard not find us before His Majesty means to leave.
Though I cannot imagine the tyrant approving of me traveling without the strongest force sorcerer on the Continent.
Especially now that the risk of attack seems far more imminent than what we would experience spending the night in a fortified castle.
Yet I cannot say the words. Instead, I shift my gaze to study every column, vase, and shadow—cursed to perceive Varic’s form anywhere I look in this grossly over-decorated castle.
Another piece of my heart calves off, losing more of what Varic has helped me to restore the longer we move through the castle with no sign of the sorcerer missing from my detail.
Lars and Malin walk with atypical rigidity, while Cirrin and Fray drift as if in a daze—until we all come to a halt when His Majesty and each of his Guards pass casually over the threshold, only to reanimate when the gravel crushes under their weight as they near the Emperor’s carriage on the circular driveway.
My vision flashes with an array of colors, rather than the white haze which usually crowds in from the corners, building from the sense of unease spearing through in the absence of Annovian guards who once stood on either side of the entrance.