Chapter Seven #3
“Regardless, this has to stop,” Fray says.
“What is the purpose of the Imperial Army if not to prevent attacks from happening in the first place? Why in the fuck is General Varic stationed at the base most likely to catch rebels who mean to infiltrate our Empire if not to protect her? Isn’t that what he promised us the last time he was here?
Did he not specifically state that he was determined to get to the bottom of the attacks and put a stop to them?
While I understand it is our responsibility—”
“Care to recount what in the fuck just happened?” Lars asks, turning to Malin and cutting off Fray, who side-eyes him.
The door to the safe room swings open and Hendry storms in, raising his eyebrows at Lars.
“Care to wait until your leader returns so you can ask that question with respect?” Hendry asks, consuming all the air in the room with his presence.
Lars clears his throat, stepping out of the way while staring down at the toes of his boots.
“Our response was effective,” Hendry reports.
“Tasch was kept safe, and each of you responded exactly as trained. The assailant was apprehended, and we have been summoned to return to the Throne Room.” Every set of eyes in the room stares at him, blinking.
“Immediately,” he adds, before turning to me in assessment.
“Though, if you need me to make an excuse so you might have a moment—"
“No,” I cut him off, hoping to convey my appreciation in my expression, as he stares at me and nods in understanding. “Though, did any of you notice the ink in his sigil tattoo?”
Hendry nods. “It looked too new.”
“Precisely,” Cirrin says, as he offers me his hand, which I take, and he sends the cool mist of his healing magic through our contact. “Which is why we need to know how he was able to infiltrate the Palace.”
“I have already discussed this with Imperial Marshall Bradick,” Hendry informs us. “He has assured Emperor Aldritch that they will be inspecting every sorcerer’s Imperial mark more closely going forward.”
I smile at Cirrin in thanks before dusting off my skirts and squaring my shoulders to take my place in the center of my Guards.
Hendry’s orange force-shield covers me as we re-enter the Throne Room.
I siphon as much of the Emperor’s rage as I can while conserving what magic will be required to execute the assailant before an audience.
The citizens’ eyes are round as saucers, displaying their hunger for the power they are conditioned to expect from the Imperial Grand Witch—no matter the fact they cannot see it like I can.
Imperial Guards shove the assailant inches before the toes of my boots when Hendry steps in closer, his shield thrumming heavily with the same tempo of an excited heartbeat pulsing within the energy field surrounding me.
Pulling in a breath in preparation, I seek His Majesty’s assent, which he gives by lifting his chin. Raki skitters closer to the edge of his shoulder, maliciously aiming his stinger in my direction.
A shiver rolls down my body as I stare at the sorcerer who tried to kill me.
The one who no longer wishes to meet my eyes when a wave of confidence buries any sense of hesitancy as she takes over—the Imperial Grand Witch part of my being.
Drawing on muscle memory with magic stirring from somewhere deep within my chest, rumbling and gnashing, ready for attack.
Anger, distrust, and fear coil within, spinning in tendrils of umber and crimson, lashing out the second Hendry drops his force-shield.
Disgust, revulsion, fear, and a hint of resignation fill the would-be assassin until she sends more anger and fear than any being should be capable of containing directly at his heart.
Numbness overtakes us, and the assailant’s limbs tremble under the pressure of my magic. The Emperor’s eyes darken as he stalks closer, mindlessly petting his tiny spy’s back as delight pours from him in witnessing me torture the sorcerer now twitching and gasping for air.
She gives him one last burst of fear, tearing a rasp of agony from his quivering lips before his body stills and she retreats, leaving me with the guilt and shame, feeling just as distressed as the first time I was made to kill on this stage.
The Emperor claps his hands together, and I fail to stifle a grimace when Raki’s claws scrape over the metal Dragon scales adorning His Majesty’s shoulder.
“May this public execution be a warning.” Emperor Aldritch’s voice rings off the carved gray stone, ensuring every citizen in attendance hears loud and clear. “Should anyone attempt to harm myself or the Imperial Grand Witch Tasch again, you will suffer the same fate as him.”
I sway on my feet, joints and muscles burning beneath the now reddening skin. Cirrin’s magic winds its way up my wrist and arm, chilling the inferno beneath as his healing imbues me with the energy to stand as required.
Emperor Aldritch tips his chin in command, beckoning two of the closest Imperial Guards to rush past him. They hook their hands beneath the dead sorcerer’s arms, and I hold my breath as they unceremoniously drag his body off-stage.