Chapter Fifty-Four
Presence
Imperial black is too severe for the vibrancy of this land, with this dress more befitting their mourning practices than having tea with Her Royal Highness.
The silver-framed, floor-length mirror reflects the quaking in my limbs with the wish to tear the fabric from clinging to my skin everywhere, aside from the plunging neckline and the window in the back.
My freshly washed hair tickles as it swings over the exposed skin, having been set in a rare style allowing my loose waves to fall free rather than being pinned to the top of my head, aside from the few strands Drusilla secured in the back with a gold barrette in the shape of our sigil.
The door clicks shut behind my attendant as she leaves us, and I spin to where Varic stares at me. Heat spreads up and across my chest, which is fully visible in the cut of this dress.
The high-heeled shoes clip over the light stone floor as I practice my gait to make it seem as if I glide through the suite, needing to make a show of being capable of walking in footwear I am so seldom dressed in.
“Drusilla said to have you put this on, then remove it for dinner,” Fray says, helping me into a thin black stole which he secures over my shoulders.
Unease brews in my stomach the closer we come to a meeting with the Queen, since I lack any kind of experience with a social call like this. Especially with the uncertainty of whether His Majesty knows about it, inducing a sense of fatigue so intense I could fall asleep standing.
“Do we think His Majesty is aware I am going to tea with the Queen?” My voice comes out more fraught than intended, and my Guards all soften with the sound of it.
“He will send word when he requires you,” Varic says.
Lars rubs my arm with his knuckles. “Try to relax and enjoy some time away from him.”
Varic scoffs, apparently recognizing that Lars’ recommendation is as impossible as I do. However, he did attempt to be supportive, so I look into his ocean-blue eyes and challenge him, “But he has yet to send word or issue any commands. Which is not entirely unheard of, though it is rare.”
The edges of Lars’ eyes crinkle before he opens his mouth to respond.
“Someone is approaching,” Malin says.
Lars releases a breath and steps away while we wait until a muffled knock sounds at the door. Malin answers it with his magic to reveal Lanska’s smiling face at the threshold.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” She dips down into a curtsy before rising to gesture toward the Queen’s quarters. “If you will follow me.”
We do as she says and exit the suite two-by-two with Varic to my left. An Annovian guard bows to me once we make it out into the corridor, before returning to his post by my suite door.
I teeter on my feet and spare some magic to collect the tendrils of anxiety winding their way through my abdomen, replacing each one with the thrill I felt studying the landscape—not expecting the memory to elicit a heady mix of emotions brought on by the sorcerer who cannot stop peering over at me.
Mechanical whirring grinds behind the plaster as the giant white doors slide open to disappear in a seamless pocket in the wall, making it seem as if they were never there to begin with.
Annovian guards bracket the entrance as we walk past, and the tiny hairs rise along the back of my neck when the same grinding sounds until the enormous doors slam shut behind us.
Lanska leads us to a grand sitting room, then curtsies before taking her leave.
I release a breath and take a single step, then pause when the Queen’s eyes pin me in place. She arches a brow, and I dip into a clumsy curtsy, wholly unprepared to find her waiting.
“Charming.” The Queen peers at me from a high-backed chair.
Her pink nails gleam beneath the faceted light from the crystal chandelier when she reaches to take her teacup and saucer from the table beside her, enthralling me in her gaze, which never leaves my own, even when she tips the cup back to take a sip.
“Your Royal Highness.” I dip into a steadier curtsy. “Thank you for honoring me with an invitation.”
Her three witches-in-waiting stare at me from the sofa beside her. Each one appears to be near the Queen’s age, and they all wear simple Annovian blue dresses.
“I cannot decide if you are simply well-trained, or contained.” Queen Celine narrows her eyes, and I swallow under her keen assessment. “Sit.” She gestures to an ornate blue floral chair opposite her.
I smooth my skirts and do as she says, settling onto the cushion.
“Try the tea,” Queen Celine commands, raising her own blue floral teacup in the air. “And the biscuits.” She holds a circular pastry with a dusting of sugar in the air, precariously balancing a small plate of assorted desserts on her knee.
A young witch enters the room and curtsies before setting a teacup and saucer with pink and white flowers on the table beside me. She produces a silver spoon from her apron and dips it into the tea, gathering just enough to sample it. Her lips part, and she tips the spoonful between them.
My pulse pounds, and we wait in silence for what feels like hours. Then she curtsies again before moving to stand at the back of the room, acting as living evidence that the tea is safe to drink—unless, of course, she took some sort of antidote.
“Lanska mentioned His Majesty fears we would spell you with our food and drink, so I have offered to allow Anya to test each for you.” She gestures to the servant to my left, and I bow shallowly out of habit.
“Thank you,” I say, bringing the saucer to my lap and sighing at the creamy color. Yet one more example of how, even here, choices like cream or sugar are made on my behalf.
Yet I must not be rude, so I lift the cup to my lips and pour some of the milky tea in, eyes widening at the abundance of spice and floral notes.
“Perfection isn’t it?” the Queen preens.
“Indeed. I don’t think I’ll ever want to drink anything else.” Heat infiltrates my cheeks from the candidness of my reaction.
“Just wait until you try our wine.” She sets her plate and saucer on the table beside her. “You must be wondering why I’ve invited you here.”
I nod politely.
“I know a being in need of a break when I see one. So, I took the opportunity to offer you a reprieve where we might speak without fear of being overheard.”
The Queen pulls in a deep breath while clasping her hands in her lap. “I saw something I didn’t expect.” She pauses before adding, “You do not approve of his plans.”
I offer her no response, curious how, after so little time to observe me, she has already recognized the truth so few others have noticed.
“You don’t want to be the monster he’s made you.” Her wise brown eyes stare straight into mine.
Varic flexes his fist as the word ‘monster’ slips past the Queen’s lips.
“Does anyone?” I ask, deflecting.
“I think you know better than most just how many choose to be monstrous.” My gaze drops to my lap, the teacup rattling atop its saucer as my hands shake. I pull in a deep breath and place it on the side table to keep it from being a distraction.
“How long?” she asks.
“I apologize. I am not certain what you are asking, Your Royal Highness.”
“How long has he held you captive? Forced you to do his bidding? Kept you from making your own decisions?”
Tears threaten as I pull on complacency—and allow one steadying breath before answering.
“I was six years old when the Emperor first learned of my proficiency,” I say, and her eyes flare wider. “My ability was beyond anything known to be possible for a witch my age, especially in regard to influencing the emotions of others.”
The Queen stares intently, the only movement from her chest rising and falling.
“His Imperial Highness recognized the service I could provide to our Empire and determined it was necessary that I receive one-on-one training,” I say, reaching for my tea in order to stall, savoring the flavor with a long sip before returning it to the saucer, only to clasp my hands in my lap.
“I assume you were defending someone,” the Queen says, reading my life like the pages of a well-loved book.
My heart jolts. “My first year mentor was furious with another student for failing to complete an assignment. I argued that she should be given time. We had just begun school. It was all so new to us. Yet when she raised her hand to strike me, my magic sensed she was filled with rage and fury. So I siphoned it and imbued her with curiosity and forgiveness.” My vision has grown hazy, because I’m no longer me—or not currently.
Six-year-old me has emerged to tell her story.
“That is quite impressive for a witch so young,” she says, and a small flush creeps along my cheekbones. “What I can’t understand is the need to remove you from the school, nor have you explained when you began to serve him in your role, assuming it was happening before your public vow.”
“Almost immediately,” I admit. “He required my presence in meetings, dinners, and court throughout my childhood, making it seem as if I were his prodigy, or as some like to call me, his ‘pet’.”
Varic’s guilt at having said something similar rolls to me through the connection I hold with my magic.
So I send him a thread of forgiveness and explain, “No one suspected such a small body could contain magic powerful enough to silence thousands of Imperial citizens, nor calm a room full of irate Generals. Not until he announced my appointment to the role I now serve within.”
“I assume you trained with other students in the Palace,” she says, and I shake my head. “Did your parents live with you?” I offer her a duplicate response.
“Excluding your Imperial Guards, do you have any close connection with any other witches or sorcerers?”
I worry my lower lip and wish not to respond.
“He wants you to himself,” she says under her breath. “He’s isolated you completely.”
Her gaze shifts to Varic. “How do you stand by and allow this?”
“Oh, they don’t—” I try to interject.
“Shh. I want to hear his response.”
“We serve the—” Varic begins.
“Oh! Don’t give me that,” she scoffs. “The real reason.”
Varic flicks his gaze to mine, while we decide how much to divulge. Yet, their reason isn’t a secret—not really. We may as well say it to placate another entitled leader.
“We are given no option, Your Royal Highness,” Varic says, as if reading my mind.
“Everyone has a choice.” So easy for her to claim as the most powerful ruler of this land.
“I think what Varic means is we serve to prevent harm to those more vulnerable than ourselves,” I offer, hoping it’s enough as her eyes shift back to mine.
“Of course, he has you under his thumb by threatening those you care for. I presume his preoccupation with living forever has something to do with his need to possess you and your power.” I stare back, hoping my face hasn’t given anything away.
“Then there’s the deplorable experiments he has your Philosopher conducting in a desperate bid to obtain more power through intimidation. ”
I stare at the ground, having been unaware that this information ever left our stone walls.
“You seem surprised.” She leans forward.
“Though I assume you are well-acquainted with how loose your Emperor’s lips can be when inebriated.
Did you think he was any less boastful in his younger years?
When he traveled the Continent and bragged of his Imperial Grand Philosopher and all he would bring to his glorious Empire? ”
She takes another sip of tea before asking, “Are you truly here to investigate the origin of the attacks? Or are you trying to get your hands on our spell books?”
Blood drains from my upper body. “I—I do not know, Your Royal Highness.”
She nods. “I had a feeling he would keep you in the dark regarding his true intentions.”
“Why did you allow us to come, when all you had to do was ward us from crossing your border?”
Her expression shifts to one of playful amusement.
“You wanted us here,” I say, mostly to myself.
“I had a vision,” Queen Celine says, pushing on her armrests to stand.
“I was unaware of your seer abilities. I apologize.”
“Seer? No. Are you so disconnected from a witch’s natural skills and abilities?”
“I’m sorry, I do not follow.”
She sighs along with her witches-in-waiting, making a concert out of their exasperated breathing.
“Every witch possesses these skills. However, we require certain practices to amplify our power—to attune with the energies to better wield them. We must commune with nature—take in the rays of the sun and light of the moon, dance under the stars, walk among the plants, animals, and other witches. We recharge by spending time in nature, and with our coven.”
The very thing I am kept from having. Sequestered within the gray stone walls, with nary an open window.
“No one deserves to live a life so controlled—so isolated and lonesome.” Her voice is somber, though her eyes flick over to Varic, drawing the heat back into my cheeks.
“You need to explore wooded areas, collect items that call to you, and build altars for those who came before us, in honor of their sacrifices and to seek their guidance. A witch must maintain a connection with the land, the universe, and others. But what I cannot understand is how a ruler so driven by power would keep his prized witch from those very sources. He should want your magic to grow, not die out. And you’re only allowed to practice one of the many forms of power the Gods and Goddesses blessed you with at birth—it’s absurd. ”
My heart feels as if it might burst from my chest when I rise, and then curtsy with the hope she will release me.
Varic holds his hands out before him, as if to help steady me.
The Queen and her witches-in-waiting miss nothing as they all share a quick glance. Then Queen Celine turns to me and extends a hand, which I take. She pats my knuckles and says, “What I can offer you is wisdom and allyship, should you ever need our help.”
My chest compresses with the uncertainty of how, or if, to accept.
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness. The Empire—” She holds her palm out to stop me.
“Allow me to clarify. You have an ally. Every citizen in need of refuge has an ally in Annovia. Should a group of rebels seek to overthrow the corrupt system ruling over you, they will be welcome. The Empire has no reason to be grateful for anything from either me or my country.” She stares at me, and I nod subtly. “I do, however, accept your gratitude.”
Her eyes flick to Varic before she turns to her attendant. He glances over at me, and I shake my head to warn him off. Now would be a good time for him to practice restraint and subtlety.
“Please ensure Tasch has as much of my tea blend as her heart desires.”
A smile breaks across my face from such a small gesture, which feels much more meaningful beneath the surface.
“You are free to roam the castle. My guards will notify you if any rooms are off-limits. You might find the library of particular interest.”
My vision blurs around the edges with the way she so casually offered me access to information. Freely given. Even to a perceived enemy.