Chapter Seventy-Five
Pass
Mirinea struts onto the lawn, snapping the point of her golden tail from side to side as she nears us. The corner of my mouth lifts with the leisurely pace she takes, proving what little importance she considers our purpose for summoning her.
Emperor Aldritch bends into a deep bow to the Elder Dragon standing before him. “Mirinea, thank you for granting us an audience. I ask for any knowledge you might have of foreign Dragons nearing the Yelm Pass within the last month.”
Her golden eyes drift closed as she sits back on her haunches, then the ground shakes when she drops fully down to her belly, crushing the dead stalks of grass beneath her weight.
“You are concerned the foreign Dragons might be assisting in the attacks on the Imperial Palace, and on Imperial Grand Witch Tasch,” Mirinea projects into our minds.
“I have a working theory that Dragons may have escorted flying sorcerers through the pass in order to infiltrate our Empire,” he lies.
“It is a clever theory, Your Majesty.” Her voice rises as her gaze flicks over to Varic before returning to narrow at the Emperor. “Though a Dragon flying to the pass would not signal an alarm, as it would not break the accords.”
“Can you not sense whether a Dragon made it to the pass without crossing the border?” Emperor Aldritch asks.
“Our wards detect any Dragon who attempts to cross the barrier into our territory. We can only know if a Dragon dares to step or fly within our land—not whether one flies near the barrier.”
“Did you or any of the other Dragons happen to sense any sorcerers living in the forest?”
“Emperor,” Mirinea’s tone takes on that of a parent with a child who has asked a question with an obvious answer, “we do not deign to track the movements of magical beings, aside from when we fly with our blood-bonded.”
“Of course.” Emperor Aldritch drops into another bow.
“If you are so concerned, you might ask Kresmea to escort you to the pass and check for yourself,” Mirinea says.
The Emperor’s nostrils flare as he nods before turning around to stride past his Guards without a word.
“I trust you have been cautious after my warning,” Mirinea chides me.
I share a meaningful look with her before following the Emperor and his Guards back to the Palace.
“I understand you have reservations with your Guards’ plans of extraction.
However, I implore you to understand the time has come for you and your sworn protectors to accept aid from their bonded Dragons and flee.
I can no longer ensure your collective survival if your stubborn nature causes you to remain out of some misplaced sense of responsibility. ”
Every hair on my body stands on end, prickling beneath my clothing.
“But I am responsible. I gave my word. I took a vow to help uphold the Empire.”
“No, Tasch. One does not possess responsibility for promises made under duress.”
“Then what of my Guards? Each one was pressured to make their vow to protect me.”
“Each of your Guards was chosen by the Elder Dragons because of their earnest desire to protect you.
We can sense sincerity, similar to your own ability, and have rejected others because of it.
A magical being cannot bond to our kind if they do not mean the words spoken when marrying our blood.
And if you remain unconvinced, perhaps it will settle your mind to recall how one's soul would reject the bond with you were they not to mean every word of the vow stated in becoming your sworn protector.”
My brows furrow as we step within the secret entrance into the mountain.
“What of the vow I was made to take when I became the Imperial Grand Witch?”
“No such thing exists,” Mirinea says, and I swallow against the tension forming. “I assume you were made to swear your fealty to the Dragons, the Empire, and the Emperor—just like your Guards have. However, your role was created by him, without our involvement.”
My face falls, and I stumble over the uneven ground. Varic and Fray both turn to me with outstretched arms, though I right myself without incident and indicate with a gesture that I do not need anyone’s help to continue walking.
“The promise you were forced to make holds no bearing as far as we are concerned,” Mirinea explains. “You were made to promise your service to the Emperor, a sorcerer with an inherited title.”
Tremors overtake my body, and I cannot keep my distress a secret with Fray and Varic both staring at me while Cirrin’s healing permeates my skin, though with little effect.
“You were forced to bleed over a bowl, within which you dipped the tip of a pen you were said to inscribe your name on a scroll containing the vow you had no choice but to make,” Mirinea continues.
“None of which is binding like the Guardian’s vow, nor is it anything like the blood-bond between a sorcerer and yourself—or a Dragon and their magical being. ”
“Tasch.” Varic’s voice sounds as if it is underwater, though he whispers directly in my ear.
Tears flow like rivers down my cheeks. “Don’t.”
Varic releases a heavy breath as I face the inner wall of the stairway. He keeps his magic to himself, and my heart squeezes in gratitude.
“We Elder Dragons never sanctioned the creation of your role, nor did we approve of your appointment. Therefore, you are not responsible for Emperor Aldritch, nor do you owe the Empire your fealty. I implore you, Tasch, heed your Guards’ concerns and flee—before it is too late.”
“What is it that you know? What will happen if we stay?”
We reach the landing at the top of the stairway as my query is met with silence.
Purple magic slides the locks in my bedchamber door, and I draw in a heavy breath when the last click sounds.
“Mirinea says we have to flee or we’re all going to die,” I blurt.
Five stricken faces stare back at me as Varic pauses on his way to stand by my vanity, and Fray breaks from his usual place by the window to stride before me. “Will you please repeat that, but slower?”
I lean against the mattress and explain, “Mirinea said that we need to follow your plan of extraction or else she cannot guarantee we will survive. She also said we need to utilize your blood-bonded Dragons, and I trust that she would not command us to take her son on such a dangerous mission without reason to believe something worse will happen should we not heed her warning.”
Varic’s jaw feathers in the reflection of the vanity mirror, and my heart sinks from the distance between us.
Lars turns to his leader. “We enact the plan, then.”
“We might need to leave before then,” Varic says.
“Explain,” I command, harsher than intended.
A deep sigh rends from him as he remains too fucking far from me, standing closer to my bathing chamber than my bed frame. He nods to Malin, whose purple magic ripples across the floor and over to a drawer in my vanity, where it retrieves something small and white before billowing back toward me.
Varic nods to the folded piece of paper, and I narrow my eyes to study it for any clues as to what it may contain, then gently pry the first fold back and widen my eyes at the inscription: ‘The One You Refuse to Call By Name.’
I hold the Prince’s letter in the air and stare at Varic. “How long have you had this?”
Varic’s expression lifts. “He handed it to me just before I met with his mother.”
“You kept something he gave you, written to me, instead of destroying it and pretending it never happened?” Varic nods, and I narrow my eyes in suspicion at the paper never having been unfolded before this. “And you never read it.”
Varic shakes his head, and I blink in disbelief before dropping my focus to the Prince’s missive written in an elegant looping script.
First, I must apologize, for I never meant to cause you distress. I recognize now how wrong it was of me to rob you of your autonomy, repeatedly, and for that I am truly mortified.
I take full responsibility for my actions toward you, and hope my abhorrent behavior will not prevent you from trusting our intent in offering our support.
You have allies. The rumors you have heard are true. There are groups working toward a better future, and further insight into your situation has proven it is time to extract you.
I trust you will be kept safe until our plan may come to fruition.
And while I wish you would reconsider the poorly worded offer I made, I can understand your reasons for declining.
That and having observed your connection with a particularly protective sorcerer, I must concede my hopes will be dashed were I to ever make the offer in the future.
Regardless of my wishes, I implore you to trust those who have promised your safety.
Until we meet again,
The One You Refuse to Call By Name
Varic watches me with threads of anxiety flowing from his body, and he quirks a brow with a slight pink hue blooming over the curve of his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose.
I wave for each of my Guards to gather closer. “The letter was from—”
“They know the identity of the author,” Varic says.
A sudden urge comes over me with the wish to drop the letter in the fire to prove the Prince doesn’t matter to me—not nearly as much as he does. My fingers tingle with the need to touch him, to grab hold of him and ensure he knows he’s the one I need. The one I want more than anything.
“He apologized.” My cheeks pinken, matching Varic’s. “He explained how the rumors are true. There are groups.” Each of my Guards nods, and I pause. “He mentioned they will aid us.”
I run a finger over the crease in the letter as Lars scrubs the back of his neck.
Malin’s expression remains neutral as he leans next to the bedpost.
Fray runs a hand down his face while Cirrin shakes his head, seemingly in consideration of all I’ve just said.
Varic’s magnetism draws my attention back to him as he stares off in the distance.
“Why did you keep this letter, knowing the risks?”