Chapter Sixteen
Vow
“No.” The word escapes my lips, but not His Majesty’s notice.
He pins me with a glare so sinister, my magic loses its connection to him, leaving my power to absorb all the citizens cannot contain and overwhelming my senses.
So practiced in dulling the ache for others, I cannot seem to stop now that I’ve begun the process. Not when such intensity surrounds me. Not without my mental wards.
Drawing on every bit of strength I have left, I try to force the wards in place, yet they refuse to barricade me away now that Varic steps up to the dais.
He bends in a deep bow before our ruler, wearing customized ceremonial leathers.
Gold buttons run across his chest from his left shoulder to the right hip, as if whoever designed it is trying to restrain him, without the awareness that Varic isn’t one who can be contained like this.
And with no amount of clasps or buttons capable of reining him in, I need him to exist far away from our Emperor, who will not tolerate his insolence.
“But he’s needed at the border,” I say, eyes flaring wide as I slam my mouth shut.
His Majesty ignores me while I send him a tangle of confusion, fear, and uncertainty. He stalls, and I send more, trying to convince him he’s made a mistake. Varic is not the best choice. It’s not too late. He is the Emperor. The only one who can change his mind so publicly without question.
Rage darkens his irises as an equally dark mist swirls around my chest, coiling upward like a serpent, constricting around my neck to deliberately press in on each pulse point.
Do it. End this. End me.
I glare back at him in challenge.
Send Varic back. Please.
Tears roll down my cheeks as stars crowd in from the edges of my vision.
Take me out. Save him.
But no matter my wish, my body fights to remain conscious, to preserve this life, despite decades of torment. Of course I want this to end. Of course I do not want Varic to have to endure this.
Heat stings beneath my skin, and I hazard a look in Varic’s direction. He furrows his brow as that gorgeous golden amber sheen slips over me, warming my body beneath the Emperor’s magic, molding to the contours of my neck until the pressure relents and my chest rises.
The Emperor continues pulsing his own magic over me, seemingly unaware of any protection, with Varic’s ability mimicking my body so effectively that His Majesty’s face remains just as reddened with the same punishing rage.
So I feign being in the sort of distress he expects, infusing the mask I plaster on with fear and pain to maintain the charade. Caught between one sorcerer capable of controlling me and the other acting as my protector, blocking him with such focus.
The very same he did not possess—
“Try,” I say, attempting what I hope to be an encouraging tone.
He lets out a heavy breath while my magic continues to siphon the fear and doubt holding him hostage.
“Varic.” My voice shifts, and I wince at the familiarity in the authority contained within.
“I know.” His tone is defeated, and his eyes cast down.
“All you’re doing is practicing. You don’t have to succeed the first time, nor is it likely you will.” I place my hand on his shoulder, and heat expands beneath my palm the more he leans in. “You can do this. I promise.”
“Don’t,” he says, and my brow furrows. “Don’t promise anything you cannot control.”
“I don’t need to control your power to trust that you can.”
Impossibly bright brown eyes lock on mine, where a story is told in the lines of his irises, weaving a tale of pain and sorrow, harbored from decades of being pushed and prodded.
Told repeatedly he has not been trying hard enough, with everyone else expecting him to do his absolute best, rather than the best he is capable of in that moment.
I blink back the past as the dark gray mist relinquishes its hold, slinking away as my magic detects satisfaction and pride oscillating through His Majesty’s insides.
Varic stares at me with a sense of compassion while I try to convey my gratitude, even though a part of me wishes he hadn’t intervened. His expression shifts as he pretends not to have used this unique form of protection from the Emperor’s punishment.
“Kneel.” Emperor Aldritch’s voice booms.
Varic does as he is bid, bracing an elbow over one knee as he drops his head, striking a certain type of panic in my chest. All of which I send to him in tendrils made of doubt and fear, regret and remorse, twining them together in a singular thread before entering Varic’s heart, with the intent to manipulate him into refusing the appointment.
His eyes shift to the side, staring at me from his periphery before forcing his gaze ahead, sending me a wave of dedication, resolution, and pride. I release a breath loud enough to tell him I received his unsubtle message when the corner of his mouth ticks upward.
“The honor of being appointed to the role—” His Majesty’s speech is cut off by a hacking cough, as his healer sends magic to try to stop it.
Emperor Aldritch clears his throat. “The honor of an appointment to the role of Imperial Lead Guard for our Imperial Grand Witch Tasch is only afforded to the strongest sorcerer in force magic.” His Majesty casts his gaze to the seats on high, though most of their eyes rest to his right.
“At the time I appointed your predecessor, his strength exceeded all others. Then, not even a full year later, your power proved to be the strongest force magic ever documented on the Continent.”
My chest burns with rage, roiling and screaming to be set free.
To burst from my chest and make this tyrant state Hendry’s name for the crowd.
To acknowledge his cruelty in displaying his disappointment in Hendry’s magic—something outside of anyone’s control.
But I suppress the urge, shoving it down with every other scream I’ve had to swallow over the years.
“The Anomaly was believed to have ended by the time you were born, with solar flares and earthquakes decreasing so significantly we had no reason to believe any sorcerers born later would grow to possess such great power. However, the forces—be they natural or otherwise—imbued you with great potential, and ever since then you have proven your strength with exceptional abilities in battle, as well as your loyalty to the Empire. Rising to the rank of Sergeant at such a young age, then most recently exemplifying your leadership acumen as an Imperial Army General, successfully guiding an elite unit stationed on the Minacian border.”
Emperor Aldritch steps forward, and Varic’s eyes drop to where our ruler raises his hands before him.
Two Guards move ahead to present His Majesty with his sword of ceremony, with one holding the case while the other raises the black and gold weapon from its black velvet cushion.
The Guard delicately places the flat of the blade over His Majesty’s outstretched palms with practiced grace before stepping back.
“General Varic Euclid, I trust you will bring our Empire glory in vowing to lead the Guards protecting our most precious asset, the Imperial Grand Witch Tasch, in affirmation of your loyalty to the Dragons and the Ampara Deicra Empire until your dying breath,” Emperor Aldritch extolls.
My pulse pounds in my ears as the Emperor lifts his sword above Varic’s bowed head before bringing it down to rest the flat of the steel blade over Varic’s right shoulder.
The page steps forward, his short fingers working to unfurl the scroll, before clearing his throat loudly enough to echo within the stone walls, made all the more dramatic with the eerie silence from thousands of Imperial citizens.
“I, Varic Euclid, vow to serve the Dragons who share this land with us in a show of gratitude for First Emperor Aslo, who so valiantly rescued the precious egg belonging to Elder Dragon Mythsea, stolen by the vile dwarves who settled here without the Dragon’s blessing.
I vow to honor the majestic beasts of our great Ampara Deicra Empire by protecting our greatest asset, Imperial Grand Witch Tasch.
” Varic repeats the words in an unfamiliar yet practiced monotone, with his eyes flicking to mine the moment my name passes between his lips.
Now fourteen years since my last Guard made their promise, so much time has passed since I last considered the requirements where every sorcerer appointed must convene with Imperial Priest Kado and the Elder Dragons.
How each of my Guards was assessed in a sacred test meant to determine their worthiness, requiring approval from every Elder Dragon in order to be allowed to take the Guardian’s Vow.
Warming my heart as the meaning settles within.
Because the Elder Dragons chose him. For me.
“I vow to serve Ampara Deicra in defending the Imperial Grand Witch Tasch’s life until my dying breath.” Varic’s gaze locks on mine as time stills and his mouth silently forms the words ‘and beyond, if the Dragons allow it.’
A small smile forms in the corner of his lips and my lungs constrict. He’s being too bold. Taking too much of a risk for someone vowing to live under the Emperor’s observance.
“I vow to use my magic, my body, and my life to protect Imperial Grand Witch Tasch.” His eyes flick over to mine again, stealing the air from my lungs as he forms my name with such reverence. “I vow to place the health and safety of Imperial Grand Witch Tasch above all, including my own.”
No. This isn’t fair. He can’t do this.
This isn’t what we are to each other.
My heart cracks, spilling forth a sordid mix of emotions, from sorrow to longing, despair to compassion, and frustration tinged with fear, all forming a thick sludge in my stomach.
The Emperor raises the blade, skimming Varic’s stray hairs atop his head before setting the flat side down over his opposite shoulder.
Varic repeats, “I vow to comply with the Emperor’s commands pertaining to Imperial Grand Witch Tasch’s safety.”
Emperor Aldritch raises his sword high in the air as a collective gasp tears through the room when it slips, though he merely adjusts his grip to point the sharpened tip to the floor, standing it upright while piercing the black velvet carpet at his feet.
“Stand,” His Majesty commands before turning to me. “Witch.”
I pull in a breath and carefully stride toward them, coming to a halt one pace from Varic. Before the Emperor. For our Empire. Channeling the Imperial Grand Witch to take over, pulling on her intimidating energy, needing it to steady me, especially since each ritual requires we make contact.
His Majesty turns to the Imperial Guard who is presenting the ceremonial dagger, which matches the design of the ceremonial sword with our sigil adorning the rounded gold hilt. Its weight creates a significant depression in the crushed black velvet cushion.
Varic’s eyes dart from me to the weapon and back, concern lacing his expression, and I can’t help but allow a smile to curl the edge of my lips because Varic has never attended a Guardian Vow ceremony before this.
He has never witnessed the rituals required to create a blood-bond between us.