Chapter Fifty-Three
Quarters
Dizziness and double-vision creep in the longer I siphon His Majesty’s ire, needing to keep him from making a scene after Queen Celine’s reception has rattled his nerves.
I blink rapidly as I send him more calming than usual and try to remain upright now that Wyrth’s telekinetic Guard closes the door to his suite behind them.
“Here we are, Your Imperial Highness.” Lanska pries a large silver key out from her pocket to unlock the Emperor’s guest suite.
“Stay,” Emperor Aldritch intones without needing to indicate who he is commanding, since my Guards and I are the only ones who have yet to be shown to our room. Lanska glides in and gives His Majesty a tour, explaining the different features in every corner while his own Guards stand around him.
The Emperor turns in a slow, calculating circle while I push a sense of satisfaction and delight inside his chest, then let out a breath once his demeanor shifts.
He nods, and a dozen Imperial servants march past us and through the open doorway, tandem-carrying Imperial black trunks with gold piping as well as a single wooden chest emblazoned with our gold sigil.
“If that is all, I will take my leave,” Lanska says to a silent Emperor. “A chamberlain will be sent to your room, should you have need for refreshments.” Lanska curtsies shallowly before turning to leave the guest suite.
Ice trickles down my spine when Emperor Aldritch crooks his finger to draw me inside the suite with more effort on my part than I hope is obvious.
My Guards remain close by as the Emperor leans in to whisper, “Do not eat or drink anything they offer you without having a servant try it first.” His eyes shift with suspicion, then he lifts his chin in dismissal, and I do not hesitate to leave the moment he storms toward the bathing chamber.
Lanska nods to me, then turns back in the direction we just came from. The giant white doors clang shut behind us, echoing down the vast, empty corridor.
Anxiety spirals in my gut with every door we pass, feeding into the fear of what may happen should I be made to stay too far from His Majesty.
Varic turns to me with a look of concern, while confusion and dread must writhe behind mine.
Every moment our captor is left untethered from my influence has the potential to be disastrous.
Regardless of his order to entertain the Queen—whatever that means—I expected there might be only a few dreary meetings I may not attend, rather than our suites being so far apart that it becomes impossible to mitigate the damage he is likely to cause.
Tales of his reign prior to my service weigh heavily on my mind, each one a reminder of what we cannot repeat, especially not when we are at the mercy of Annovians.
Fray nudges me, and I turn as his brows lift into perfectly shaped arches. I offer him a non-committal shrug, and my throat constricts now that we are passing the doors to the Throne Room.
“Lanska, are you escorting us to our guest suite?” I ask.
“Yes, I apologize for the distance.” She nods before continuing down a separate corridor off the main entrance.
I turn and issue one last look where we left the Emperor to his own devices, then press my hands against the knot in my stomach.
This wing of the castle bustles with energy.
Servants, servers, and more guards than existed in every other corridor appear far too jovial for anyone in their role.
My stomach sours with the confusion roiling inside my abdomen, feeling as if this must be a fabrication.
Because the tasks they must perform in service to their ruler cannot possibly be all that different from those within our Empire.
Curiosity spears from my being and into the hearts of those closest to me, needing to know if their outward display of joy matches anything genuine.
My pulse thrums low and heavy as the emotions my magic absorbs are all colors I so seldom experience.
Those of accomplishment, enjoyment, and a different sense of pride than the kind His Majesty thrives upon.
None of the servants here carries the ever-present fear of making one mistake that could render their life, or the lives of those they care about, forfeit.
Can the difference between our cultures be what affects this?
Or are there other contributing factors?
The number of castle staff members decreases as we continue on, while tension winds around my ribs since the tyrant to whom I am responsible for managing is so far away now, inducing a heavy pulse to pound in my ears.
“Tasch,” Varic says under his breath, and I meet his gaze before shaking my head.
“Are there any spare rooms closer to His Majesty?” I ask.
“The Queen has instructed me to bring you to this suite, ma’am,” Lanska says, and my heart leaps until I remember this is a term of respect here—one which His Majesty will simply have to accept me being called, should he hear it.
Varic clears his throat, drawing attention to his pained expression as an intense need to help him threatens to overtake all sensibility. My heart aches with the need to see his playfulness break through this stony exterior. Needing him to be him again.
Claws rake along my insides. Varic will not survive having to suppress his natural intensity, not with the way he feels more than others can fathom. It is simply too much to hide this experience deep within his mind. It will only hurt him, and I cannot bear it.
My chest constricts with how he sacrificed living a life far less confined, all for my safety.
His passion, his voice, his knowledge, and his skills were all valued as a General.
Yet now he must stuff all of this down and pretend it does not exist, except in life-threatening circumstances, or if it pleases His Imperial Highness.
Lanska comes to a stop and produces another silver key to unlock the last door at the end of this corridor.
Or so it appeared. However, the more I stare at the wall at the very end of the hall, a suspicious seam spans from floor to ceiling in its center, suggesting it may be two enormous doors that slide open, since there are no visible hinges.
“Are those the Queen’s quarters?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lanska says, pushing the door open and entering my suite.
My eyes widen as I step inside. Cobalt blue walls surround a wooden four-post bed draped in matching blue velvet with silver tassels.
A fireplace faces a sitting area in the middle of the room, where a deep blue velvet sofa is flanked by two matching chairs around a low oval table centered above a colorful, floral rug.
Sheer curtains hang on either side of the enormous picture window on the opposite wall, where the view of the most magnificent sunken garden overflows with flowers and trees in every color imaginable.
My breath hitches as the natural beauty draws me in, and I walk toward the large glass pane as if in a dream.
My hand rises, and I press my fingers to the surface.
The warmth of the glass soothes my fingertips as my eyes scan the variety of foliage spilling over each level in the circular design.
Trees sprout out of the earth at random intervals, rather than in the perfect rows we saw upon our arrival.
One such tree features cascading limbs of tiny green leaves, which shift and ripple in the breeze.
Tears spring to my eyes at the breathtaking sight, and I wish for the freedom to observe it all up close and at my leisure.
Heat blankets my arm where Varic’s presence adds to the experience of admiring this form of artistry, since our own land is absent of gardens like this, with His Majesty outlawing such frivolous use of resources.
The longer we stare out in companionable silence, it begins to feel as if it is only us, with a false sense of safety allowing my gaze to drift to him—to drink him in—though it’s a risk I shouldn’t take. Not when His Majesty, or anyone in the Annovian court, could arrive any minute.
“Have you ever seen so much beauty?” I ask without thinking.
Varic’s eyes beckon mine, and a thrill rolls down my body when I turn and meet them.
“Yes.” His voice is low.
“Oh.”
The twinkle in his eyes returns in earnest, looking every bit as mischievous as I remember.
He pushes past boundaries I should be upholding, leaning in until his lips brush against my ear. Shivers cascade down the side of my neck as he whispers, “Though I’d argue the beauty standing before me is significantly more than anything outside that window.”
I pull in a sharp breath when his lips caress the sensitive skin on my ear as he straightens. His eyes flick to mine before he feigns interest in the world past the pane of glass.
“If I could show you around the room, ma’am,” Lanska says.
I turn to follow when the door to the suite opens, and Drusilla enters. Her gray eyes dart around the room as her expression brightens—easily the most endearing I have yet to witness from her.
“The Queen requests your presence at tea, ma’am,” Lanska says.
I raise my brows, then look to Varic.
“Do you mean the Queen will be hosting the Emperor, and I will be joining at his behest?” I ask.
“No, ma’am. The Queen requires you alone,” Lanska explains. “With your Imperial Guards, of course.” She bows her head, then gestures to the bathing chamber as part of the tour.
I stride ahead with discomfort unfurling inside my stomach, instinctively seeking Drusilla to gauge her reaction, though her expression remains suspiciously neutral.