Chapter Eighty-One
Consequence
Varic’s expression is pinched with anger as he leans down to help me up from the ground.
I send him tendrils of appreciation and love through our connection, with the hope it may help settle him, only to witness a spark of concern ignite behind his irises when I rise to stand with more challenge than expected.
A fact which I cannot disguise from my Guards as they each consider me, while my magic slowly siphons away their fury.
Varic’s fingers dig into my ribs, bracing my tired form to his own when we pause with Ivo’s familiar stomping pattern drawing near.
Malin’s magic courses up my body and curves under my arms. “I have her.”
Varic releases a breath and, thankfully, concedes to sense, letting go of the tension he’s held while stepping over to my left. He casts his amber shield around us all just before Ivo storms through the arched passage.
Ivo does not disguise his disgust as he announces, “Imperial Grand Witch Tasch, His Majesty requires your presence.”
Varic’s expression hardens as the rest of my Guards fall into formation around me and we all dutifully follow Ivo through the main hall of the Dungeons, where countless eyes stare at our party until we disappear into yet another annex.
Fear prickles beneath my skin at the prospect of being taken to the Emperor’s chambers again. Then a shiver runs up my spine at the possibility of another visit to the secret room connected to it.
Relief washes over me when Ivo pauses to knock on a dark wood door leading to another private room. Yet my heart still hammers as we await more answers, since this isn’t a move I am familiar with our captor making.
Raki flies from my shoulder once the door creaks open, and we all file inside the rectangular space, lit only by flames held in sconces upon the gray stone walls.
The tiny spy careens to take its place with His Majesty, who stands tall before his Guards.
A prickle of annoyance bursts under my skin as each of them sneers at us while we move to stand off to their right, where we are afforded a direct view of the door.
“My little witch.” Emperor Aldritch gestures around the nearly empty space as Raki waves its tail in my direction.
“It is time you learn your place, and it seems the only way to ensure you do so is to hold true to the threat I made years ago. I had hoped you would care enough about young lives to obey my commands. However, you are proving to be just as selfish as every other witch on the Continent.”
I swallow against the lump in my throat and send Varic a semblance of my love for him, hoping it might temper the rage I am too weak to hold at the moment.
He rolls his shoulders once it seems to have embedded in his chest, preparing to support me through whatever the Emperor might be planning in this empty room.
The door slams open, and regret fills my limbs when Lorn storms in with a young witch trailing behind him.
Judging by her height, she must be merely seven or eight years old.
Then my heart sinks as her uniform more closely matches what I was made to wear when the Emperor first brought me to the Palace than any issued by the local schools.
A witch and sorcerer I assume to be her parents stalk in after them, with their level of terror depicted within the river of tears rolling down their pallid cheeks.
How have they arrived here so quickly? Did speed Guards carry them from their home?
Lorn directs the adults to stand in the corner closest to the door, and my chest constricts when they clutch each other with fear so strong that I feel compelled to siphon just enough to dampen its intensity.
Are they residents of the Imperial palace I’ve somehow never seen?
His Majesty strides toward me until his sulphur and wine breath turns my stomach. “You will torture the young witch as a consequence for that stunt you and your Guards pulled earlier.”
I bow as he spins around to take his place before his Guard.
My pulse pounds heavier as the young witch stares with her big brown eyes widening at me in question, while all I can see is her dress, being so reminiscent of the Imperial servant uniform I was given when forced to live and train within these same walls.
“Your Majesty, may I confess to the young witch as to why I must do this? So she might learn from my mistakes and better honor you with her actions.”
He nods and softens his expression—to which I pause in stunned silence, staring back at his youthful visage—almost in a trance.
I blink the surprise away and sink to my knees while the young witch’s freckled cheeks lift in a small smile for me. My throat bobs as I swallow the heavy sob forming. “You may have heard I am to use my magic to bring you harm as a consequence for failing to respect the Emperor.”
She nods with such a calm demeanor, I cannot help but tear up. What I am about to ask of her—to pretend to experience something so distinct, regardless of the emotions she hoards in her chest—is something far more familiar than I’d care to acknowledge.
“This might sound strange of me to ask, but can you pretend to feel sad while I talk to you right now?” She nods as her gaze drops to the floor.
I point at Varic, who stares over with a look of admiration, though he cannot hide his anger.
“Do you see my Lead Guard?” A glint of admiration shines from her irises as she glances over at him.
“He is going to shield you without anyone here being able to detect it.” Her eyes flare with wonder, and my own gaze flicks over to the Emperor, even though he is too far away to have heard me.
“And while he is shielding you, I am only going to pretend to use my magic. I do not want to hurt you, and you didn’t do anything to deserve this.
Which is why I must ask for you to pretend as if I am hurting you; that way no one will know any difference. ”
She nods again, and my heart hammers as I look back at His Majesty with my magic delicately siphoning his irritation so I might have time to explain further.
“Here’s the challenge—we cannot let the Emperor know the difference, which means I must request that we keep this ruse between us.” My voice wavers on the final words.
“I understand.” Her voice is small but sure.
“Thank you, and I am so sorry for needing to ask this of you.”
Her expression exudes forgiveness as I rise to stand, and my heart constricts with the predicament I have put her in.
My expression shifts to her visage the moment I bend in a bow toward the Emperor. My legs feel ten times heavier, while the soles of my boots drag over the stone, until I stand tall in the center of my Guards.
They all turn and offer me looks of sympathy as Varic sends his shield to cover the child. A shaky breath rends from me as the orb obscures her in its opalescence, appearing more solid from the outside. A feature I fail to remember as the one usually encased inside of it.
“We do this for them,” Malin says under his breath, as a wave of his purple magic billows out toward the child.
I turn to regard him as he nods ahead, where he solidifies his magic to create a shield just like Varic’s.
My brows furrow as I stare into the deep purple orb, in awe of how he has made the same type of shield every force sorcerer learns to conjure in their childhood.
My heart swells with gratitude, as not even the Emperor’s telekinetic Guard can sense Malin’s magic, allowing him this act of solidarity.
Bringing me comfort, though it isn’t necessary.
More amber magic flows over to Danor, and my eyes narrow when Varic shields him. I cannot guess at the purpose—unless this could prevent him from detecting the use of dormant magic.
“We do this for them,” Lars whispers and sends a sheet of his bright red power from his body as he somehow follows in Malin’s example. The sorcerer must have used his magic to tap out a message in their secret language.
He and Malin share a conspiratorial look as his dormant force magic warbles around the child before it condenses into a shield just as stable as the others.
Tears stream down my cheeks, and I want nothing more than to pull them all into a hug, but I must withhold the urge.
“You may begin,” His Majesty says, and I nod with solemnity to prove the power he wields over me.
To prove his punishment causes me the pain he thinks is necessary to maintain his level of power, as I pretend to bring the same sort of harm to this innocent witch who does not deserve to pay for my insolence.
For my transgressions are my own, and I should be made to suffer them alone.
Not to terrify this young witch or make her fake her reactions in the same way I have been.
Born to bear the brunt of every foul mood befalling those who would exert their control over me.
To be the blame for all that ails them—a reality I do not want for this young one.
She stares back with those soulful brown eyes, and I nearly collapse, feeling wholly incapable of making myself fake this. Even acting out this scene is torturous.
I can’t do this. I can’t even pretend.
Then allow me, the Imperial Grand Witch commands, with her world-worn voice reverberating. I do as she says and slink back inside myself.
She narrows our eyes in a signal to the young witch, whose lips curve up in the corners as if she is enjoying this. The Imperial Grand Witch raises our hands in a dramatic flourish.
The young one shakes and jerks around, acting as we agreed—making it seem as if I am hurting her.
Cirrin’s voice is low as he says, “We do this for them.”
I shake and shudder when his blue-green magic joins the others to form a solid shield around the young witch. Tension relents around my chest from the kindhearted healer adding his own level of protection in support, despite my shortcomings, or how much he already does for me.