Chapter 12
As soon as I stepped onto the raised platform, I wished the floor would split in two and swallow me whole.
The training grounds were a massive square courtyard, fenced by the Citadel’s tall stone walls, and nearly every square inch was covered by an expansive crowd of people.
Most of them wore training leathers, while others wore aprons or workwear, but all of them were ending their conversations and staring up at us.
Never before had so many people looked at me.
How in the Domus was I supposed to not look scared?
One by one, those who were close to the platform noticed my eyes, and their faces turned from worried curiosity to shocked apprehension.
Ana tugged me to a stop on the side of the platform, only steps away from the door that beckoned to me with open arms. Harthon swaggered to the middle of the platform, Callen and North flanking him.
Their faces were stoic while Harthon stood with a natural ease, as if the weight of hundreds of eyes weren’t suffocating him like they were me.
“I expect that what I tell you will spread to the rest of the city center and our Territory. Make sure it does.” Harthon’s voice boomed with authority, echoing off the walls.
“You have heard that the Domus was erected by an unnatural being. That is correct. The name of this being is the magvis, and with the help of a small troop of men, I have acquired the only one to currently exist.”
There were no gasps, no cries of worry, as I expected. Surprise was plastered on every face that knowingly turned to me, but no one dared to utter a sound. Frannie had said Harthon mercilessly gutted two men at the last gathering. It seemed as if everyone was afraid to invoke his wrath.
Harthon continued bluntly. “Like any magvis before her, she has violet and gold eyes. She is not a threat to our Territory. She is a gift. You will treat her as such. With me, the magvis will improve the difficult lives we’ve known for too long.
If you fear her, it is because you doubt me and my judgment.
” He paused for a few moments, swiveling a pointed look across the crowd, a majority of which shriveled.
I had a feeling that doubting Harthon was akin to launching oneself off the wall walk.
“If you touch, harm, or take her, you will die, just as these men did.”
Harthon pivoted to the wall behind us. A moment later, I understood what Harthon had apologized for. Four bodies were thrown from the wall walk above, ropes around their necks jerking them to a stop high off the ground.
They were my attackers from last night, their faces ghastly pale and bloated, blood staining their bodies. A knife still protruded from the head of the man who’d fallen on me. All of their eyes were open, revealing glazed, waxy stares that chilled every bone in my body.
It was a ruthless statement.
Harthon turned back to the crowd. “If you give me the opportunity, I’ll continue decorating these walls.
” The promise rang clear and true. He let silence hang, allowing his threat to burrow deep into the hearts and souls of every person who listened.
When he spoke again, it was to say, “That is all.”
Ana tapped my arm, and I followed her to the door as the three men trailed behind us. It was an incredibly short gathering, two minutes at most, but Harthon had made his point with the forceful efficiency of an executioner’s ax.
“That was quick,” I muttered as the door sealed us inside the room.
Harthon walked past me to lean against the table, crossing one ankle over the other. Given that he’d just threatened his entire Territory, the image of nonchalance was incredibly deceptive. “They were already dead. There was no need to draw it out.”
As the muted sounds of movement and conversation arose outside, I stared at the man who commanded the attention of so many people as if it were his to own. He would have splayed open my attackers’ stomachs on that platform had they been alive. Of that I had no doubt.
“Do you always turn to threats when asking something of your people?”
Muscles bunched as he folded his arms across his chest. “Only when necessary. This situation offers no room for softness.”
“Are you going to just leave those men there?”
“Until their stench interferes with our training,” he answered calmly, as if the smell of decaying bodies was no more than an inconvenience.
Callen, who stood beside me, nudged me with a hard elbow. “I was told you got a few good strikes in. I’m glad we have something to work with in training, Fish Eyes.”
He meant it as a commendation, but all I felt was inadequacy.
“A few good strikes weren’t enough.” I had managed to injure some of the men, but all of my hits came from blind desperation, not strategy or balance or technique.
It wasn’t enough to stop them from killing me.
Had Harthon not intervened, I’d be dead.
If I found myself in a similar situation again, I might not survive.
When Harthon spoke next, it was with absolute conviction. “Those few good strikes were more than most in your position would have managed to do. It was four against one. Only a handful of my trained soldiers could have beat those odds. If there’d been one less man, you would’ve escaped them.”
Harthon wasn’t one to dole out empty compliments. He meant it.
“But there wasn’t one less man. I need to be able to beat those odds.”
Approval flashed in his eyes. “Cal will get you there.”
The mentioned man sighed. “Will do. Though you might hate me by the end of it.”
“I already kind of hate you, so you have nothing to worry about,” I replied sweetly.
He stuck a finger in the air. “First rule of training is to respect your instructor.”
“And what’s the punishment for breaking the rule?”
“Running. Lots of running.”
“I don’t know if you were listening to your Princeps on that platform, but he said to treat your magvis like a gift. That means no punishment.”
Ana choked on a laugh. Meanwhile, North’s typical scowl deepened.
Callen swung to Harthon, who simply shrugged. “I did say this.”
Callen’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “You’re not actually a magvis, though,” he protested.
“We want everyone to believe that I am, which means everyone should treat me as such.”
“It’s already going to your head. Magvis or not, you’re running.” He pivoted back to Harthon. “She’s running.”
“Would you like me to declare that as an official edict?” Harthon replied.
He was entertained, and I suddenly realized that I was too. Skies, I was smiling. A genuine, unconscious smile born of this conversation. I was…I was having fun.
How could I be having fun?
The realization was a bucket of cold water to my amusement.
“Clearly, I’m on my own. You’re lucky I don’t step down from this role and give it to North instead,” Callen said, but I no longer had the desire to offer a clever retort.
Quiet fell. Harthon filled it a moment later. “Ana, we should head to the meeting room. The cabinet will be there any moment. Etarla, you’re joining us.”
Whoa. What? “A meeting? With your cabinet?”
“Yes.”
Cabinets consisted of each Territory’s highest Lords. While I’d never even been close to the vicinity of a cabinet meeting, I imagined it was rather exclusive. I couldn’t fathom why Harthon would want me there. I’d never even spoken to a Lord before. It was not a place where I belonged. “But why?”
“If you’re the magvis, you’re more powerful and important than any of us. It only makes sense that you attend the meeting.”
“But I don’t know what to say or do. Plus, you know I’m not actually the magvis.”
Callen threw his hands up. “Oh, so now you’re fine with not being treated as the magvis.”
We both ignored him.
“Say something or say nothing. It’s just important that you’re there,” Harthon responded, implacable.
“Important to you or your Lords?” I countered.
“Important to everything that comes ahead.”
Well, it wasn’t important to me, but I had no choice in the matter.
A delicate hand landed on my arm, and I turned to meet Ana’s placating gaze. “You’ll find it insightful, if not entertaining. Some of them make asses of themselves, and it’s rather fun to watch.”
I didn’t want insight into the small-minded, selfish concerns of the elite, nor did I want to be entertained by them.
But it didn’t matter, because a few minutes and many hallways later, I found myself seated beside Ana at a long, wooden table, much like the one in the library.
A fire warmed the space, and three tall windows across from me offered a glimpse of the training grounds where men fought, grappled, or sent arrows into targets.
The four bodies were still strung up in the distance, watching over the activities like haunted wardens.
Two guards opened the double doors by the foot of the table. They were the same guards who’d bowed their heads toward me as I’d first entered the room.
I’d nearly tripped over my own feet when they’d done it. No one had ever bowed to me in their life. It felt…strange.
A slow parade of middle-aged and old men entered, all garbed in colored robes and heavy, jeweled necklaces that screamed of status.
They mumbled a disjointed chorus of “Princeps” and “Minister” as they bumbled to their seats, paying me no notice.
Positioned at the head of the table next to me, Harthon was splayed casually in his chair, legs spread as he leaned on an armrest. His face was a mask of indifference.
The Lord diagonal to me, a wrinkled face with wisps of white hair clinging to his balding head, looked up and met my eyes.
He flung his chair back, the sound of wood scraping on stone like knives in my ears.
His mouth opened and closed like a fish as the other eight men stared at him and then me. “She’s—”
Harthon cut him off. “Do you see those four bodies dangling in the courtyard behind you, Jonathan?”
Heads swiveled toward the windows.