Chapter Seventy-Five #3
His eyes narrow. “Then what privileged information did you give him?” His dominant snatches hold of my throat. “What military strategy did you divulge?”
I try to shake my head while his grip halts my motion.
“None, Emperor,” Varic states, and the tyrant spins to stare at him, as if he is not the strongest force sorcerer on the Continent.
Fear seeps through my defenses, remembering—
Varic on his knees in the gravel, dark gray force magic piercing his chest.
The fear of it chokes me worse than the Emperor’s hand, squeezing as hard as he can around the shield before tearing his hold from my throat to charge at Varic.
“Her newest companion.” He presses the tip of his finger underneath Varic’s jaw to lift it, forcing Varic to look down his nose at our ruler. “You would know if she did or said something… inappropriate.” His lips curl up in a sneer. “You’re sure she did not fuck him?”
Sinister rage flashes across Varic’s face as the Emperor taunts him.
“Ensure he tells the truth, my little witch.”
I pale at his command to influence Varic into being honest.
“I’ll know if you fake it. I can tell.” His eyes flash to mine in warning as I do as I’m bid and reach for Varic’s emotions, which are a tangle of knots in his stomach.
Red, purple, and blue meld together—a perfect storm of anger, embarrassment, guilt, shame, fear, and fury—so I tug on the anger, being the most straightforward, and do the opposite of what the Emperor might expect by growing it to encompass the rest. Then I imbue him with compassion and a spark of my love, all while Varic plays along—winking at me when he groans so convincingly the Emperor’s grin deepens.
“He never touched her in that way, Your Majesty.” Varic’s voice is pained, though he cannot hide the tinge of joy he exudes in confirming Prince Auden was never intimate with me.
Emperor Aldritch pivots to charge toward the door, which Ivo and Danor rush to hold open for him.
“If you did not whore yourself out to the Prince, then you must have given him something treasonous, and I will find out what it was.” A shudder rolls up my spine when Raki flies in to land on his shoulder.
Lars clears his throat and turns to our aggressor. “Your Majesty, have you considered the Prince may simply have similar standards?”
The Emperor turns his steely gaze on Lars, so quickly I take a step back, regardless of how far away they are from me, or that I remain under Varic’s protection, throbbing with his pulse every time his heart pounds.
Lars swallows as the Emperor leers closer.
“Explain,” he commands.
“You have celebrated Tasch and her accomplishments for decades.” Lars digs his heels in, pulling on the Emperor’s inflated sense of pride.
“You have always recognized her strengths, magic excluded.” His Majesty strokes his chin with his pale white fingers.
“With your supreme judge of character, even if a witch were the most powerful, you would reject her for the good of the Empire if you did not otherwise approve of her character.”
His Majesty narrows his eyes, and I worry Lars may have gone too far. It's always such a tender balance, using logic with a tyrant.
“You’re saying Prince Auden is as good at judging someone’s character as your esteemed Emperor, and that is why he saved my little witch after an explosion over his own mother?”
“I would never compare anyone’s ability to recognize another’s character to your own, Your Majesty.” Lars bows, and my nostrils flare in annoyance with his pageantry, though it does seem to be working as the Emperor stands there, considering.
“The Prince most likely recognized what you have always seen. Since you so often mention her attractiveness, while also publicly lauding her abilities. Once you take all of that into consideration, as well as her connection to you and your impressive achievements, it only stands to reason that a powerful sorcerer would fall at her feet. Wouldn’t you agree, Your Majesty? ”
Emperor Aldritch takes a step back, placing his outline in the center of the doorway where he pauses for a moment before exiting.
Varic’s eyes could bore a hole through metal with the power of his rage.
Unease ripples through the room, and I send my magic to check on my Guards’ emotional statuses. Each of them is riddled with fear—though something small and golden yellow glows within the center. A small glimmer of hope, deeply embedded within each of their chests.
Every eye in the room turns to me, and I raise my brows in question while slowly turning to glance at each of them. Then, when no one speaks, I take the lead.
“Will someone please say something?”
Varic swipes his hand through his hair, while Cirrin rubs his palms together.
Fray crosses his arms, and Lars rubs the back of his neck.
Malin leans against the bedpost before turning to look at Varic, with pressure for their Leader to speak for the collective.
His impossibly bright brown eyes maintain their luster as they sweep across my Guards’ faces. Some secret language seems to pass between them before he nods and shifts his gaze to mine.
“We have a plan.”