Chapter 13
CHAPTER
It was almost morning when Vaasa woke, gut clenching and burning, the feeling of her magic being torn from her bones pervading every nerve she had.
She cried out, turning over and pulling her legs up to her chest, rocking in agony.
The pain seared down her neck and spine, spreading to every inch of her body, as if her very core was being flayed in two. Magic writhed beneath her skin.
Vaasa tried to breathe. She couldn’t. Tears streamed down her face as Ozik used Vaasa’s magic for something she couldn’t name. Couldn’t see. She dove into that pain, tried to connect with it, to find some thread to grasp between her fingers and give her access to whatever it was Ozik was doing.
It pulled her in as if it were her own body moving, her will manipulating the connection.
The pain began to ease as she followed that feeling, as she gave into the connection that guided her.
And then behind her eyes, she was staring at the shimmering string between them that threaded down what looked like an underground tunnel.
Everything was blurry, but there was something along the walls that sent a shiver down her spine.
She couldn’t quite make out the shape of it, but her body knew to keep its distance.
Her instinct told her not to look closer.
She stared down that shadowy corridor until she came upon a massive archway, the stones ivory white.
Despite herself, Vaasa walked inside. Everything except for the space immediately in front of her was blurred, the edges smoked and details indistinguishable.
But glowing in front of her was a red pool of something.
It swirled in on itself, too bright to be blood.
The longer she stared, the longer she felt the sentience of what existed within it. Breathing. Writhing. Waiting.
The red pool began to ripple.
Something terrible, something ancient.
Death.
She felt it. Someone was dying. She smelled the metallic carnage, the fear.
She experienced it as Ozik did, as if she were him and he were her.
Connected. Intertwined. His horror and agony were hers.
Every moment of it was miserable. Their magic was one and the same, and he was the fuel while she was the fire.
It was oil on her skin. The rancid smell of burning hair and flesh pervaded all the air around her.
And then she was falling. Something crashed.
The magic extinguished, and everything in her mind went dark, and she was thrust back into her own body as it hit the ground.
Her eyes flew open as her heart thudded rapid-fire against her chest. She’d rolled off the couch, and to her left, an end table had fallen over, the small iron figurines that graced it scattered on the floor.
Black mist coated the blankets around her. Vaasa scrambled to her knees and gasped, this magic making sense to her. It was familiar and kind and home. Black tendrils rose and dipped playfully around her. Some wrapped about her wrists. Cool to the touch. Mist on her skin.
Veragi magic.
It was hers.
Vaasa breathed in deeply, savoring the feel of it around her.
And then it snapped back into her body, buried once again in her bones and sinew.
Gone.
Just as quickly as she’d had it, the force disappeared. An emptiness conquered every spot where hope had just bloomed.
The door to the emperor’s quarters burst open, and Vaasa tried to move, tried to defend herself. She turned just in time to see Roman with his sword drawn, staring at the room empty of anyone but her.
“What happened?” he demanded. He must have been standing outside her door, must have been waiting that entire time. He’d likely heard the table crash.
“I… had a nightmare,” she choked out.
His shoulders fell sullenly at the words. He looked at the table, at the figurines scattered on the floor. “You’re sleeping out here?”
Vaasa bit her lip. She didn’t confirm or deny his assumption; her placement did that for her, with the blankets strewn across the rumpled couch. “Why were you outside of my door?”
“The sentinels rotate; tonight was my turn to guard your door. I’ve… debated coming and speaking with you.”
Vaasa scowled.
Roman walked past her to the spilled table and lifted it with ease, kneeling down to pick up the iron figurines. His eyes drifted to the couch. After a moment, he asked, “Is there anything I can do?”
Her heart still raced, concern lingering in each of her nerves as she considered exactly what Ozik had been doing with her magic. She didn’t understand any of what she had just seen.
And she didn’t know whether she could trust Roman.
“I need to see my friend,” she whispered.
Roman paused his cleaning. “She’s still dangerous. I don’t think Ozik has been able to break her curse. He made it clear that seeing her without him present could be extraordinarily dangerous for you.”
Vaasa didn’t believe that for a second; it was a lie Ozik spun to keep her from seeing Amalie.
She almost came right out and told Roman everything, but the voice in her head told her not to give an inch.
Roman had never been deeply religious, but he’d bowed his head and read the teachings of the clergy without much question.
If he found out her magic wasn’t some curse she wanted to expel, would he turn on her?
Would he wish her locked back up in that prison in hopes of finding some impossible cure?
“I…” she trailed off. She had to think of something. Anything. The idea of lying to him was a knife in her gut, but she didn’t have another choice. “How much do you know of Ozik?”
Roman pursed his lips. Even with both of them on their knees, he was still taller than her.
He placed the figurines back on the table but didn’t lift from his place on the floor.
His soft brown eyes were shielded, though that didn’t strike Vaasa as stemming from loyalty. They were still wider, more fearful.
“I know I won’t survive disobeying him,” he finally said. “Not until you are formally the empress.”
Was that his plan, then? To obey Ozik long enough to make it to her wedding? “I think you know as well as I do that a title won’t save either of us from him,” she whispered, the two of them staring at each other in the dark.
“You believe he will kill you?”
Vaasa knew Ozik wouldn’t. Not as long as he needed her magic, and given the strength and youth he had gained from their bond, she suspected Ozik would do just about anything to keep her alive.
“No,” she said. “But he intends to rule with me as a puppet for life. Likely, once there are heirs, he will kill whoever I marry.”
Roman didn’t move. His expression melded to one of impassivity, even more guarded than he had been before. “Is that why you accepted Lord Karev’s invitation for tomorrow night? To move forward with one of your suitors?”
Vaasa sat more upright, trying to keep her composure.
“I don’t see what other choice I have.” It was the best she could do to create the illusion of a real competition for her hand, for the Asteryan throne, and delay an actual marriage.
She wasn’t certain she could outmaneuver Ozik, but if she had the opportunity to sow discord between the lords, it might be enough to damage any chance they had at gathering an army strong enough to outlast the Icrurian Central Forces.
Perhaps that was her only way to escape—to lie in wait.
“I don’t want to marry any of them,” she confessed.
At those words, Roman crawled to the fire, stoking it, and the flames roared back to life.
Light flooded the room as he turned to face her again.
With the fire at his back, his face was still shadowed, making him look almost ethereal.
Truly and wholly a ghost. “I—” He paused for a moment.
“I don’t know what to do. Who to trust.”
“Trust with what?”
Roman pursed his lips, then started to crawl toward her again.
The closer he came, the more her body recognized him.
He had snuck into her rooms countless times before.
They had been in similar positions as this.
He stopped just before where she sat, her back against the couch, his knees only a few feet from her.
“Did you love him?” Roman asked so quietly. “The Wolf of Mireh.”
The wolf. Her wolf. The person her magic had seemed to model itself after, as if it, too, wanted to be more like him.
Her soul and his, similar enough to reflect in her power.
The thought of Reid caused a knot to form in her throat.
This was the first time they had spoken of him, had acknowledged that she’d been married to another man.
She and Roman were incapable of casual conversation, she realized.
It was impossible to know someone and then unknow them.
Without trying, they would pick up where they’d left off, because that was what people did.
She saw the anger in Roman’s eyes. He had always been a jealous creature.
And she couldn’t bring herself to break his heart—not yet.
She pulled her blankets over her lap, careful to keep the majority of herself covered.
“Being in Icruria saved my life,” she said. “Dominik would have killed me.”
Roman pursed his lips. “I don’t think you would have stayed anywhere you were in danger. That’s why I find this whole story about Icruria difficult to believe.”
“That Ozik came and rescued me from the clutches of a violent warlord?”
A pause, and then: “How did Dominik die?”
Vaasa kept silent. She kept waiting for that serpent to coil, for the wolf to raise its head and howl, but was left with an utter sense of emptiness that was almost more consuming than the magic had been. Whatever trickle of it she’d felt earlier had gone.
Roman waited, eyes burning into her. “Was it Reid of Mireh? There are so many rumors.”
Her defensiveness reared up—it was instinct. “I killed Dominik.”