Chapter Eighty
Betrayal
Not even Fray’s dagger would be sharp enough to cut through the apprehension in the dining hall this evening.
Generals from every region stare at their plates where servers pile a bit of every delicacy from an array of golden trays as we wait with bated breath for His Majesty to make his speech before any of us dare take either fork or goblet in hand.
General Sal’s hazel eyes flit nervously between the Emperor and me.
My skin itches with suspicion until he lowers his focus to study the exposed skin on my chest, lingering much longer than would be considered appropriate.
Varic turns, and his ears burn crimson the moment he follows the General’s line of sight to where it rests over my breasts.
His Majesty stands abruptly, scraping the legs of his dining chair over the marble floor, commanding our attention with his wine goblet held high above his golden crown as he shouts, “To Ampara Deicra! Our glorious Empire!”
We respond in kind with our goblets held aloft in response.
“Our Imperial Army is the strongest on the Continent.” The Emperor pauses to take a swig of his wine as cries of pride fill the gap in his announcement.
He drains the contents, then holds his empty vessel out for a servant to fill.
His expression shifts to one of intimidation as his Guards gently usher him back to his dining throne before he dismisses them with a wave of his hand.
“Fear not! Our military will find those responsible for the recent attacks on the Palace. Now, let us dine!”
Cutlery scrapes over porcelain, a noise which vibrates within my frame until the edges of my vision grow hazy with the buzzing of tiny wings.
A shudder rolls through me as the edge of Raki’s wing clips my ear before it swoops around to land on the Emperor’s shoulder, nuzzling into the side of His Majesty’s neck before staring back at me.
Varic’s fists flex beside him, and I chance a glance where he narrows his eyes at my tormentor, sharing in my discomfort without any way of knowing how such a gesture helps me to feel less alone in this.
My shoulders droop along with my energy.
Yet I force my frame to remain upright where we have been commanded to stand with the rest of the assigned witches.
Voices echo off the stone walls of the Dungeons while I mindlessly twirl the stem of the crystal goblet, scanning the sea of black uniforms for any sign of General Sal, when I freeze—unable to breathe, much less blink—when the very same sorcerer bends over and seems to whisper in the Emperor’s ear.
His Majesty’s piercing gray eyes rise to pin mine, and the sound of shattering crystal draws my attention down to the red drops of wine rolling over the toes of my boots.
Varic turns to me with concern pinching his features. “What is it?”
“I think Sal just sold me out.”
“About the plan?”
“No. The book.”
“I’ll smash his skull in,” Lars promises.
Fray holds a hand up. “I’ll fly him out of here and drop him in the middle of the ocean.”
Cirrin nudges Fray with his elbow before turning to me. “I can always force him to lose consciousness.”
“I am going to fucking obliterate him,” Varic grits as he leans in and amber lightning emits from his fingertips.
“You will do no such thing.” I take the risk and press the back of my hand to his chest.
His eyes meet mine and darken. “He just betrayed you.”
I smooth my skirts, then flex my fingers to prevent them from curling in. “Yes, and you’ve always hated him because he pays me special attention.”
He glares over at the sorcerer in question. “No, I’ve always hated him because you pay him special attention.”
“It was only ever a means to an end.”
His lips graze the edge of my ear. “If that is meant to make me feel better—” He pauses and straightens as the Emperor storms toward us, and the tingling warmth of his shield sluices up my body as Varic takes possession of my being.
“Notice how Malin remained calm and quiet when I reported my suspicion?” I ask.
“Everyone is aware of what my magic is capable of,” Malin whispers. “I didn’t think it necessary to voice my ill wishes when we can all imagine just what I would do to him.”
Lars raises a brow in question, as if he would like to ask exactly what Malin would do, when I admonish, “I’m going to need the rest of you to mimic Malin.”
We each release a heavy breath as His Majesty’s boots splash within the small pool of wine I have just spilled.
“Witch.” His eyes cast up my body before he turns on his heel to stride in the opposite direction. “Come.”
Raki flies over to settle on my shoulder as I hold my breath and follow behind His Majesty’s Guards.
* * *
The Emperor and his Guards lead us inside one of the private rooms far enough away from the main space that no one should hear if we scream.
He pauses abruptly before his Guards, who line the wall closest to the door, then gestures for us to stand facing him.
Varic casts his amber shield over me and each of my protectors, apparently not willing to take any chances as I pivot to plant my boots a few paces away from the tyrant.
“One hundred paces, Euclid.” His Majesty’s tone twists my stomach.
Varic steps before me until his shoulder covers my own, prompting Raki to crawl along the back of my neck and settle on the opposite side where his view of the Emperor remains unobstructed.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Refusing to abandon you,” Varic says, without lowering his volume.
I wince from the tiny spy’s talons digging in, curving around the golden Dragon scale decoration at the same time His Majesty conjures a swirl of dark gray magic spiraling up his body—one which he can choose to blast forward at any given moment.
Ivo lifts his chin in question. “You would deny a command from your Emperor?”
Varic holds his hand out before my chest, as if to stop me from stomping toward them. “I will abide by the vow I made to protect Imperial Grand Witch Tasch.”
“Very well,” His Majesty sneers, sending a wave of his power, halted by the wall of amber. “Lower your shield, Euclid.”
Varic doesn’t move a muscle.
Raki lifts off to hover directly overhead when Malin steps before me and turns to Varic. “What is your plan here, Leader?”
Emperor Aldritch reforms his magic into tiny shards, as if readying to pierce through the shield surrounding us, as he sneers at me, “I should kill you now.”
Time slows as the needle-tip bits of force magic fly toward us.
Varic lunges to block me from the tyrant’s sight while holding his arm out to the side.
We collectively glower at the ruler whose magic is proving ineffective against Varic’s, yet the Emperor refuses to back down so easily as he screams, “Ivo, Danor—now!”
Deep purple sparks fill Ivo’s hands as dark red mist emanates from Danor, all of which they send with the Emperor’s dark gray in an arc, spreading up and over the shield surrounding us.
Varic turns with a smirk rising on the side of his face. “Tasch, Malin—remember what happened on the driveway in Annovia?”
I nod. “The way you siphoned his power?”
“Watch.” He tilts his head back and curls his hands into fists.
“Careful, Leader,” Malin warns. “This is an unreliable new skill you’ve learned.”
Cirrin steps closer, shaking with anxiety. “What do you surmise the risks might be?”
Malin shrugs, instilling none of us with confidence.
“Cirrin, will you?” I gesture toward his leader as he sends him a wave of blue healing, imbuing him with energy when Varic’s body begins to tremble.
I grab hold of his shoulder and squeeze, but he doesn’t relent. “Varic, please.”
The tendons in his neck protrude as he continues to pull on their power without any indication he’s heard me.
I turn to Malin, who shakes his head. My lungs sting as I pull a breath in and take hold of Varic’s hand to squeeze four distinct pulses, laying claim to this sorcerer determined to keep us all safe at an unknown cost to himself.
Yet he only seems to draw more of their power inside himself as Ivo sways to the side, and Danor’s eyelids droop, while Mille propels his magic into the tyrant whose eyes appear to dull as he pulses his own power toward us.
“Varic,” I try again. But he’s lost to me. Hidden somewhere behind a veil. Though nothing can keep him from the witch who brought him back from the depths of the worst he’s ever felt. No, if anyone is capable, I will be the one to pull him back from this.
“Lars.” I pivot to look back at the son of a scholar. “If you will not tell me the meaning of the terms Varic uses for me, will you please tell me how to say ‘my heart’ in the ancient tongue?”
His mouth quirks in the corner. “Mei caerd.”
“Mei caerd,” I say, drawing Varic to turn and lock eyes on mine, though they’re unfocused. “What about ‘my soul’?”
“Mei swul,” Lars says. “But if you mean something closer to soulmate, it’s mei gema.”
“Mei swul. Mei gema. Please.” My voice breaks, squeezing Varic’s hand with more tension until he blinks with some of the light returning behind his irises.
His mouth curves up in the corner. “Using the ancient tongue against me is manipulative, you know.”
I choke out a laugh as he tightens his fist over my thumb—just once. Just to let me know he’s here. He’s back, and he won’t overdo it.
“Shit,” Kosta cries, using his speed to grab hold of Ivo before slowly lowering the unconscious Guard to the ground.
“You didn’t kill him,” Malin says. “I can still sense magic within his chest.”
“Well, that’s a disappointment.” Fray reaches forward to clap Varic on the shoulder. “Seems you stopped siphoning too soon there, Leader.”
Varic huffs out a breath as he stares forward, apparently waiting for the Emperor to take the hint. Yet His Majesty merely blinks back while Mille continues to imbue him with energy. I narrow my eyes at the healer whose ability cannot possibly compare to Cirrin’s.
Lars shakes his head. “He has to tire at some point.”
“I can make that happen.” Cirrin steps forward.