Chapter Eighty-One #2
Fray nudges me with his elbow, and his moss green eyes beckon, then lock on mine. A deepening smirk rises on the side of his face, and my cheek wobbles. My Guard, who is most likely to buck authority, must be loving this.
“We do this for them,” Fray whispers and sends a light gray cloud to join the rest, shielding this child who could have been me, or any of us.
Now all of my guards have chosen to risk their lives with the use of dormant force magic to shield this young witch from a consequence I should be facing alone. Not to protect against me or my power, as they all must know I would never use it against her.
Instead, this is an act of solidarity. A gesture to keep her safe, with me.
Audible sobs rend from me as His Majesty looks on with devious glee, misinterpreting the reason for my emotion. Having no way of knowing my overwhelm is an expression of awe and disbelief at witnessing my Guards care for me.
The young witch’s scream pierces my heart as if it’s really happening. Her movements and screams are so realistic, I look down at my hands as if I am hurting her.
Her eyes open wide, and the twinkle inside is the only indication otherwise.
The Emperor lifts his chin in command, and my heart sinks lower.
Yet the young witch winks at me—reminding me of the confidence exuded from a certain sorcerer—communicating she is okay. That we can keep going. She may even be enjoying this ruse we’ve concocted.
So the Imperial Grand Witch pretends to give more. To torment the little one so much she falls to the floor. My chest constricts because she shouldn’t need to do any of this. She shouldn’t have to act as if the Empire’s most notorious witch is tormenting her.
“More,” Emperor Aldritch commands.
We nod—the Imperial Grand Witch and I. We can do this together. Just like we have for so many years. I’ve lost count.
The child drops to her back, and her limbs shake while her soulful brown eyes stare up at the ceiling, appearing vacant. My heart lurches with the pain contained in her mother’s blood-curdling scream.
I send her tendrils of complacency and the message, ‘My daughter is fine. This is not what it seems’. All while wishing I could explain that while her child will always carry the weight of having to participate in this, I swear I haven’t imbued her with any emotions.
Everyone in the room stills as we stare down at the young witch lying so still, the shallow rise and fall of her chest the only indication she lives.
Her parents peer over at the Emperor as he takes a step forward. “Enough.”
He drops to one knee and presses his fingers to her pulse point, then turns to me with a glint in his eyes. “She is so young. You didn’t have to nearly kill her.”
The rage filling my chest could raze this Palace with the way he so masterfully paints me as the villain.
Yet I bow while he extends his hand to the young witch, whose expertly veiled excitement reaches for me in tendrils of bright red and orange.
My eyes widen as my magic does not draw this reaction from her—meaning she is quite deftly using a skill she should not possess at her age.
A tsunami of dread tugs me under.
No. Not another.
Her future unfolds before my mind’s eye—though it is nothing more than a distant memory of my own.
My mentor tutting at me in disappointment.
Every one of my peers laughing and leering behind cupped hands as I walk down the corridor.
Lonely nights spent staring at the ceiling while the rest of them giggled and gossiped about my behavior.
These moments are not a vision of her future. Not really. What I am seeing is my own history, repeating. I am merely projecting my fears, as if my concerns are her burdens—the very same my forebears bestowed upon me, without knowing.
A younger me screams for her to save herself. To keep from presenting with this power she wields. Yet she looks at me as if she has an important message to tell me, and I must listen.
She smiles, and my heart bursts from the emotions she’s sending—with a mix of curiosity and wonder, confusion and excitement.
“May I apologize?” I ask the Emperor in a wavering voice.
The child’s mother shakes her head while His Majesty releases a heavy breath. “Do so quickly.”
I nod as the young witch runs over to me, heart breaking with what I am about to explain.
She pauses, and I sink to my knees, then lean close enough to speak without anyone overhearing.
My cheeks quiver while I lower my voice to a whisper, “Do you know of my history?” She nods.
“So you know how I displayed magic beyond what I should have been capable of, which is why the Emperor brought me here to work for him.”
Her smile disappears as she confirms with a nod.
“The most important part of the story is one they always forget to mention.” Her eyes widen, and she leans in while her mother flinches.
“Get on with it,” Emperor Aldritch warns.
I nod to him before turning back to her. “I made a mistake when I showed them the depth of my power. Those of us who develop skills earlier are meant to stay near our peers.” Her eyes drift off as she seems to consider this. “No one knew I would be even more powerful had I never been brought here.”
She forces out a heavy breath.
“Emperor Aldritch would be furious if he learned anyone kept this from him.” Her eyes pin mine with far too much awareness. “I worry the same mistake would be repeated should he learn of your unique abilities, which are so much like mine were at your age.”
Her eyebrows rise, and I press my lips into a line.
“What should I do?” she asks in a low voice.
“Only show the same abilities you observe others your age demonstrate. It’s the only way to ever know your true power. To stay with them, as long as you can.”
Her expression is solemn as she nods toward the ground. “I think I understand, Imperial Grand Witch Tasch. I will not fail you. I promise.”
She bows before striding back with a well-trained posture—something unnatural in one so young.
Her mother holds onto her shoulders as the father walks in a daze beside them.
My vision grows hazy as the Emperor and his line of Guards leave without a word.
I hold in a shudder as the tiny spy flits closer.
“What was her name?” I ask Lorn, just before he exits the space.
He turns back to me while straightening his black eyeglasses. “Her name is May, Imperial Grand Witch Tasch.”
May. Renewal.
The name of a witch whose magic mimics my own.
A fact I hope the Emperor does not know.
Though she arrived too quickly to live anywhere else.
Meaning he must be hiding her somewhere covertly enough that I have yet to hear any whispers of her presence.
Which may mean she is the contingency for whenever I inevitably fail him.
Varic glances at me in question, and I nod to indicate I am more than ready to leave this place.
We advance forward, and I cannot help but stare down where May had to writhe over the stone. Someone so young and na?ve. She cannot possibly understand the gravity of all that’s happened. And I cannot feel glad, for it will all catch up with her, eventually.
And I’ll be the reason.