Chapter Eighty-Three #2
“We will enable every being to roam across the whole Continent! For it is my firm belief that we must share the wisdom of our ways. We must ensure there is no more need to squabble over such trivialities as spices or minerals. We will raise every magical being in our custom of strengthening one’s greatest magical form, so their contribution to the greatness of the Ampara Deicra Continent will be one for the history books!
” His white-knuckled fist pumps in the air to the tempo of the cheers rising from his audience.
The citizens appear sincere, without need for my influence, seeming to believe him and his message. Or else they are just as well-practiced at feigning fealty with conviction.
My magic feels depleted, yet I might be capable of subduing him long enough to tell those in this room the truth.
To force him to his knees and make him face me.
To keep him from seeing the audience as they await his execution, while I inform the citizens of how our government and military have become unsalvageable due to our Emperor’s lack of leadership.
I could prevent this plan from taking shape, for it cannot mean anything good should he be capable of proceeding.
“Together we will create a unified Continent!”
Cries of celebration rise as high as the gray domed ceiling, increasing the pressure inside my skull with the urge to dissent. To reveal all he claims to be true as the delusions they are. Mere falsehoods forged from the fragile ego of a tyrant.
I could explain how our military has been used to increase his influence, and the strength he purports is mere fabrication—another way to distract us from noticing our crumbling foundation.
“Ampara Deicra will reign supreme!”
But would the citizens believe it? No. Because the truth is too unbelievable, regardless of the evidence I could present.
No matter how much sense I infuse within the argument, their minds will deny it.
It would be too overwhelming to learn this all at once, and since we do not have the luxury of time to convince them, it will be in our best interest for me to remain silent. Like I always am.
“All hail Emperor Aldritch!” They praise him and all his lies as he absorbs their enthusiasm with his hands raised in pride. “To Ampara Deicra! Our glorious Empire!”
My magic detects satisfaction blooming inside Varic’s chest. And the darkening ring of amber around his widened pupils is made even more distinct by the thick black lines drawn around each of his eyes.
He stares up at Sal with a distant quality—which isn’t the effect of luss essence.
It shouldn’t make him have such a singular focus outside of my safety.
Yet amber, blue, and purple ribbons swirl from my Guards to surround Sal’s frame, with his expression shifting from frightened to nearly asleep, over and over again.
Panic engulfs me in its black cloud of misery, overtaking my vision and obscuring everything aside from what is projected inside of my mind—
A thick haze of dust casting down over the Throne Room.
Deep ochre and crimson threads of terror and fear creep and crawl along my spine, lying in wait to wrap around my ribs and squeeze, ensnaring me further with every rapid heartbeat.
Rubble, lying in stacks. With giant slabs of broken marble raining down on us.
I wince as the sensation of heartache spreads outward.
Screaming. Voices young and old. Terror…
I clutch at my chest and pull in a gasp of breath, fearing my heart might break free if I am fed any more of this.
“Tasch!” Varic’s voice calls from a distance.
My whole body shakes as this vision is too visceral, making it too difficult to believe it isn’t already happening around us.
But Varic would never be so far that he would need to scream my name. This is just my vivid imagination. Again.
“Our Imperial Grand Witch Tasch will be integral to our success!”
Every witch, from those who sit in the pews to those attending the soldiers, peers up at me with a reverence I would prefer they’d reserve for someone more deserving.
How their expressions would shift were they to understand I have done nothing but contribute to all we are forced to endure.
How I have helped to entrap them in this system.
One which will require me to leave this place and recuperate, so I might be capable of aiding them in the future.
His Majesty glides along the edge of the stage with stealth and grace I’ve never observed in him. Moving with cat-like agility as he takes long, leisurely strides, his hand held aloft to indicate his supposed affection for the crowd.
A chill rolls down my skin when he turns and gestures for me to mirror him. Yet I cannot shift my gaze from the minute changes in his movement until he closes the distance and digs his fingertips into the small of my back, with an itch developing beneath each point of contact.
The absence of my Guards feels cloying in this moment, with a pressure similar to the one felt with the horde of citizens crowding in.
This exposure—this lack of protection—is such a foreign experience, even though I am only twenty or so paces before them.
Yet each of my Guards surprises me with their failure to recognize my absence.
So entranced in their act of avenging me, with the General who remains standing from the help of Malin’s magic alone.
I send tendrils of urgency to infiltrate each of their bodies, though the sensation of connecting with their chests is unlike anything I’ve felt before.
It’s muted. Less. As if some veil exists between us which has weakened my magic, and when I try to sense their mood—I can’t.
And I am no longer certain they are receiving any of my influence.
His Majesty leans closer with his sulphur and wine breath, encouraging me to hold my own. I stare back at his skin, now free of so many liver marks, and I scan his features while my chest constricts with my captor apparently aging backward.
“I understand you intend to leave me.” He squeezes my hand so hard it would be futile to try to yank it from him.
His clammy skin. Touching my own. My eyes drop to where no amber shield exists.
Where there is nothing to prevent him, or anyone, from harming me.
Not now that Varic has abandoned his duty.
Except for the thousands of witnesses—the only reason my lungs can expand within the compression of fear woven around my ribs.
“Is my little witch truly so na?ve? You know there is no escaping me.” His eyes pin mine in a predatory sneer before his mouth lifts in an amorous grin.
He forces our joined hands in the air, as my knuckles crack within his tight grip.
“Despite there being nowhere you could run when I rule the Continent, I think I will give the citizens what they have been begging me for.”
My stomach drops as his grin only widens. “It is finally time for me to reward their loyalty with the promise of an heir, though I should never require one.”
The pulse in my ears pounds so heavily, I almost don’t hear him whisper, “Not now that I have achieved immortality.”