Chapter Forty-Six
Our gazes melt together in one disorienting river of entangled thought and repressed emotion. A diffident curling of fingers around our respective souls.
Despite my inability to determine reality from falsehood, I allow myself to believe that he is the only thing existent before me.
I barely know him. And yet, every cell and fibre of me yearns for his.
For togetherness with him. I lean into his body, regardless of my mind's insistence that I cannot trust his presence to be real.
His hand presses deeper into the curve of my back.
This magnetic combining of us comes to a screeching, heart-dropping halt with the creaking of bows stopped short on string. A horn sounds – air blown through the hollowed out and curling tusk of some unidentifiable creature.
Eliaz and I break apart, as every dance partner does, when the emperor appears on the raised perch of his red, crumbling throne, granphids snarling by either side of him. The king’s hand does not retreat, however, remaining firmly planted on my back.
Emperor Raffan peers over his people, his chin raised high, gratified at the sight of us all turned to statues in his presence.
‘You surely do not await an address from your emperor. You are all here to dance, are you not?’ He gives a rising gesture to the musicians to continue, and they clamber at their bows and wooden instruments, pages flurry in their music books.
And the music resumes, although considerably choppier and grating to the ears this time.
Each high note a sharp needling sensation in the eardrum.
I make for the emperor before Eliaz can discourage me. The man claps his hands together on my approach to his perch.
‘Eira, my dear. What a sight for my sore, tired eyes. I am delighted for you to join us this evening.’
I dip into a curtsy. ‘What a dinner party you have thrown. Rather extravagant for my taste, but it was perhaps foolish of me to have expected something as understated as a simple meal.’ Emperor Raffan throws his head back in a laugh.
‘Whilst, I admit I got carried away with tonight’s festivities, I do not believe it unfitting for us to welcome Reyhen’s princess with such extravagance as you say. ’
The hovering presence of Eliaz buzzes behind me. He clears his throat. Emperor Raffan regards him with a strained austerity. With an overruling disgust in how his features stiffen.
‘Does your mother know about this association with the Umbrian king? I do not think she would be best pleased if she—’
‘Oh, she knows, dear Emperor,’ Eliaz interrupts, a smile closing in on his words. ‘And she was wonderfully appalled at the sight of her innocent princess caught up in the throes of an abomination such as myself.’
The emperor purses his lips. ‘I will not resume trade with you, not after what your parents did.’ I shoot Eliaz a confused look.
His parents? I was under the impression that Umbra’s trade with the mainland was due to the lies circulated about their greed, after their attempts to retrieve the Relic, from my own father no less.
He blinks down at me before returning his gaze to the emperor.
‘I am not here at your feet to talk imports, nor am I here to discuss any accusations against my parents.’
Sensing the rising displeasure in the emperor’s eyes, I interject. ‘We wish to discuss the wellbeing of Valtayre as a whole. We really should talk now, so that we might return with haste to the Isle.’
He has the nerve to wave me away, his attention drifting to the commotion of the ball behind us.
‘It is a beautiful evening. Let us not taint it with talk of such affairs. I will answer questions tomorrow.’
I take a step upwards, closer to him. Something simmering within my blood. Fists clenched.
‘I was told you were kind,’ I say, letting him fill in the gap of who might have told me such a thing, hoping he’d think them the words of my mother.
‘They say I am a fair and just ruler, that is correct. But concerning my nature as a man, they would not grant me the same reputation. Do not mistake my welcoming you here for anything other than duty, or respect.’
Whether it is the sheer amount of bodies in the vicinity, or the rage that is building within me. I begin to heat. I stand there, staring down at him in that godsforsaken throne of his.
‘And you would do well to not mistake my demands for discussion as a request, or a formality. I wish to protect the decorum between us.’
That internal fire ignites with ease this time. With control. I lure it upwards, beckoning it to the surface. I raise my index finger, now a lit candle.
Emperor Raffan’s mouth hangs open, his eyes wide and ignited the flickering of my power. The striped beasts begin to cower and retreat backwards, eyes fixed on the flame as though they know exactly the kind of damage it can cause.
Eliaz quickens to my side. ‘Eira, what are you—’
‘I am simply warning this great emperor here, that we will make sure to return home with exactly what we need,’ I narrow my eyes on him. ‘Even if that requires us to adjust our methods of extracting such information.’
Emperor Raffan sits forward, expression pleading. ‘Do you not see, dear girl, that this man has corrupted you? You do not mean me any harm, it is not in your nature.’
I scoff. ‘You did know my father, didn’t you?’
‘You do not resemble him, nor should you venture to.’
The flame in my hand sparks and splutters.
I cannot become this person. I cannot become him.
Trembling, I curl my fingers into a fist, until my power fizzles and is snuffed dead.
Suffocated by the realisation – that I have no one in my life to look up to, to wish to become.
‘Then, please. Do not drive me to. Let us talk, presently.’
The emperor dithers for a moment, hand rubbing his chin as though to stimulate thought. He looks to Eliaz, and then to me.
‘I concede,’ he says finally. ‘But I stand by my previous conditions. I talk only with you, Eira.’
‘I will be there with you. Do not worry.’
I turn to Eliaz, my back to the emperor, a sign of disrespect I do not bother to avoid. ‘It’s okay, really. I will go on my own.’
The muscles in his jaw clench and release a few times, and he breaths a long shaking sigh from his nose, looking away from me, briefly.
‘I will be near, at the very least. I must know you are safe.’
I nod, bringing a hand up to his cheek, and rubbing my thumb across his skin. He leans into it. Closed-eyed. The coolness of his skin battling with the heat of mine.
Then I step away, bringing my attention back to Emperor Raffan, who looks at me expectantly.
‘We will talk in private, the two of us. Just as you wish.’
He rises to his feet. Two guards run over at the sight, awaiting his instruction.
‘We wish a brief retreat to the parlour, you may bring us refreshments,’ he cocks his head a fraction, regarding me through his peripheral vision. ‘It would seem the princess has quite the appetite for discussion this evening.’
The parlour is the most peculiar room I have ever laid eyes upon.
A red clay ceiling cupping itself over the tiled floor, leaving it difficult to discern where the walls end and the arch above begins.
There is little furniture present, just two humble wooden chairs backed with two spotted pelts, and a round side table tucked between them.
Stacks of old leatherbound books line the curved walls, the thick layer of settled pinkish dust indicating they have lain untouched for a considerable amount of time.
It occurs to me, as Raffan labours to take a seat on one of the creaking chairs, that he may not be as lively as I had initially accredited to him.
On the wall the chairs are positioned to face, is a hole of a hearth that reflects dancing flickers on the aged face of the man, freshly stoked and blazing. He regards me, one bushed brow raised, as I sit in the free chair, catching my curiosity at the fireplace.
‘What is it, Eira? Think you might have achieved more fervent flames had you done it yourself?’
I shake away his mistaking my marvelling for self-pity.
‘It is just, things are much different here than I was led to believe.’
Emperor Raffan tilts his head. ‘How so? Had you not been educated on life beyond the Isle? I would have thought your mother was passionate enough about the kingdoms to teach you these things.’
I scratch at the embroidery of my skirts, picking at the raised thread as it glistens in the firelight. ‘I am afraid that would have been considerably difficult, be it for the fact that I resided at the opposite end of Reyhen – with my governess and companion.’
Shock pulls at the emperor’s features, and his gaze widens with his gaping jaw. He leans forward as if he does not believe he has heard me correctly, as though seeing me better would aid in his comprehension of my words.
‘Do you mean to tell me your mother allowed you to be sent away from her? You were her pride, her treasure.’ He shakes his head, looking to the fire. ‘The woman I knew would not have stood for it.’
‘Perhaps the woman you knew no longer exists, because I have felt more ornament than treasure to her. It was her idea to send me away, after the erecting of the Divide.’
Emperor Raffan adjusts himself in his chair, his attention falling to the floor as he crosses his foot over the other. The lack of urgency in him infuriates me. That he even dared to suggest talking tomorrow is the biggest tell of his character, when he can see how desperate we are.
I am overcome with a sudden urge to tear into him. To rip his flesh open, crack his ribcage apart, and rummage inside of him, for answers he seems hesitant to divulge. If I have to ask one more time I will have no choice but to—
‘I went to great lengths to put an end to your father’s ludicrous ideas for that wretched thing. He was driven into blinding madness by his hungering for more and more power. How he found that abhorrent book, I do not know.’
‘You mean the black book? The one of Neyktar?’