Chapter Eighty #3
A new fear presses against my ribs, because no matter how much I want this—no matter how much I long to witness the sorcerer who was forced to grow his magic and suffer the deaths of everyone in his unit, no matter how much I want him to obliterate the ruler who ultimately gave the order, and to revel in the moment Varic ensures vengeance for all of us—I can’t.
I cannot allow them to finish this.
Not when we are outnumbered so heavily. Not with countless witches and sorcerers who want us dead, or worse.
Who are just as ignorant of the caveat in the accords as we had been.
We cannot finish this without a safe escape from it.
Not if we mean to avoid Varic having to revisit his worst nightmare of needing to kill every being who might try to stop us—most of whom serve our Empire under threat of harm—as we must.
Malin looks down the line. “We need to move closer.”
We all follow suit as Cirrin turns to capture Varic’s attention. “We need in.”
Varic uses his blast magic to dissipate His Majesty’s shield lower down. “By his feet.”
A purple cloud flows toward the tyrant to climb up and wrap around his form while Cirrin’s blue healing crawls up and into his stomach, causing his eyes to fall shut while Malin’s magic holds him up. The dark gray shield disappears, unable to wield his power once his consciousness has faded.
“What are you doing?” Mille asks.
“Helping to calm him.” Cirrin holds his hands out defensively. “This situation is stressful, and his heart could give out.”
Mille’s eyes narrow as the corners of his mouth lift in a knowing smile. “Liar.”
“I can sense how tired his heart is,” Cirrin lies.
“Have you ever considered your own charge is responsible for his declining health?” Mille says, pulling against the magical manacles, holding his wrists outstretched beside him.
“The health which seems to be strangely on the mend since the last night we were in Annovia?” Cirrin asks, as Mille’s white cheeks drain of what little color they held.
Varic’s blast magic pulses brighter, as if the power itself yearns to infiltrate the Emperor’s form.
But I can’t let him finish this, so I step past Malin and Cirrin and place my hand over Varic’s shoulder.
No longer caring what the Emperor’s Guards may think as they witness this, since they cannot hurt him, nor would they dare harm me.
The worst they can do is feed into his unfounded fears that my Guards have behaved in ways he has forbidden.
I pull on him just enough that he takes several steps back with my guidance.
The muscle on the side of Varic’s neck tenses when he raises his hand containing the bright bolts of magic as he gently sets it down to cover my own. His warmth penetrates to offer me a mite of comfort.
His ear is so reddened, it radiates heat against my lips when I lean in to whisper, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” His fingers flex for emphasis.
“Then I need you to remember, we do this for them.” I squeeze his shoulder once before releasing my grip and let out a breath of relief when he retracts the last of his blast magic from threatening the Emperor.
I twine tendrils of blue, green, and yellow, then send them all to His Majesty’s chest.
Varic turns as if to watch me work my magic, though he cannot see it. Trusting me and my judgment. Recognizing my worth, while I use my power for its intended purpose, to soothe and protect rather than inflict fear and death.
The blue, green, and yellow split from each other, allowing the threads to penetrate further while absorbing and consuming all they encounter.
I tug on the black, gray, and umber, while the ochre and sable-hued emotions remain insidiously tangled.
Each emotion I siphon contains enough toxins to end the life of some of the strongest among us, proving how we can be eaten alive when made to hide too much inside.
I swallow it down, then send him impressions—
We should discuss this later. My guests adore me.
I am going to give my loyal citizens more of my prized attention.
Cirrin withdraws his healing from the Emperor, allowing him to awaken, along with his force Guard Ivo.
His Majesty’s eyes find mine, and I shudder from their lack of pigment, appearing nearly white, despite the golden cast from the torches.
My pulse thrums with every heavy emotion I siphoned to force this shift in perspective.
“What did you do?” Ivo asks Varic, who simply stares back in answer.
Emperor Aldritch turns to glower at his force Guard. “Did I tell you to speak?” Ivo shakes his head as the Emperor takes a step toward the door. “My guests await.”
I hold my breath until he turns back to look at me. “This isn’t over, my little witch.”
Gooseflesh erupts from the top of my head and down my legs.
The imposing wall of black uniforms made up of his Guards follows quickly behind him, leaving me and my protectors in this strange, cold chamber with Raki circling above our heads.
My legs tremble as I slowly lower to sit on the ground, staring up at what appears to be Varic’s silhouette as he rushes forward.