Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
TRISTAN
My grandmother lifted her wine glass high in the air, my grandfather behind her, already drinking. We were in Cresthaven’s ballroom, the entire Council present, along with our new Imperator, Her Highness Arianna Batavia. My future mother-in-law.
But of course, the Bastardmaker was here, too.
Standing close. His black eyes were on me, commanding me, reminding me.
Like I needed a fucking reminder at this point.
He could leave. He could leave me alone forever.
And I’d still know what to do. Shoulders back.
Head high. Smile. Pretend everything was fucking fine.
Convince everyone that I was happy. That I agreed with what was happening to my country, to my people.
To vorakh like me.
I was his puppet, unleashing chaos with a smile.
And, of course, most importantly of all, I had to show that I was happy.
Not grieving for Galen. Or acting as if the murder of my best friend wasn’t still tearing me apart a month later.
That I still wasn’t waking from nightmares of the Yellow Room, Galen screaming with no sound coming from his lips, my hand shattering. My soul breaking.
“To my grandson, Lord Tristan.” My grandmother lifted the goblet to her lips.
All the Council Members and nobles of Bamaria followed.
She grinned, her lips now the same color as the wine.
“He has made the Empire proud. And he has made us safe again. Ever since he’s become the head of the vorakh task force, Bamaria—or rather,” she winked at the Bastardmaker and then Arianna, “New Korteria, has never been greater. Thanks to Tristan’s efforts, we’ve arrested two dozen criminals from our streets in just the last three days alone.
All shipped off to Lethea where they belong. ”
I downed my glass in one go.
Naria took my hand in hers and squeezed.
We’d grown closer over the last month. For the first time in all the years we’d known each other, we were actually becoming something that felt like friends.
While every other aspect of my life was going to complete shit, Naria was starting to become the best part.
The only thing getting me through the day.
“Just a little while longer,” she whispered. “Then we’ll have done our duty and we can retreat to our room.”
I nodded, trying to calm my breathing. My grandmother was still grinning, then her eyes flashed on mine and she deposited her glass on a tray floating past her.
Her fingers full of silver rings and precious stones sparkled.
The Bastardmaker crossed the room, and took her hand.
She grinned even wider. I could only make out part of their conversation, something about overflowing prisons.
And a new contract to build more—using Ka Grey silver.
I was going to be sick. But suddenly, the door to the ballroom slammed open. The room filled with silence, every noble turning in the direction of the disturbance. At who had entered.
“I was just wondering …” It was Lord Eathan Ezara, the former Second to the Arkasva. Harren Batavia’s cousin. He’d been about to take the Seat of Power in the interim between Harren’s death and Arianna’s consecration. Until the Emperor threw him from the Seat.
Without a role on the Council, I hadn’t seen him at Court in months. Though as Lyriana’s cousin, he remained a noble with considerable power.
It was startling just then to see him in blue robes. For as long as I could remember he was always in gray—the color worn by the Master of the Horse. The color my grandmother was now expected to wear. Only of course, she’d had her robes made of silver.
His eyes crinkled as he smiled at Arianna and bowed before her.
“Your Highness, pardon my interruption,” he said.
“But I was just wondering. Since the task force has been so successful under Lord Tristan’s leadership, and since we have yet to experience another akadim attack in these lands in months, if things are as safe and great as you say, at what point does Bamaria become Bamaria again? ” His voice hardened.
Arianna smiled sweetly—too sweetly—and plucked a glass of wine from another floating tray. Her red hair had been curled on top of her head, her golden Laurel of the Arkasva delicately laid across her brow. And now, as Imperator, she wore a golden border through her black robes.
“Lord Eathan,” she said. “First, let me welcome you back to Court.”
“Your Highness,” he said again, slowly eyeing the room. “And my question?”
“Unfortunately, that is a question best left to the Council, a Council you no longer sit on. I would offer more, as I hold you in such high esteem. You have served our country well and for many years. But we don’t want to act too hastily.
After all, that’s how mistakes are made.
And when you have akadim, and now vorakh running wild, committing acts of terrorism, we must proceed with caution.
Lord Tristan is doing admirably. But there are more vorakh out there, more threats to stop, and unifying with Korteria is keeping us safe. But I thank you for the question.”
“Were we not already unified? Under the Lumerian Empire?” he practically barked.
“These are trying times. And I would advise you to accept my answer.” Her aura flared, leaving a startlingly icy chill down my spine.
“Of course.” He stepped back, and from the corner of my eye, I watched as the Bastardmaker gave a signal to another soturion, one of the sentries on duty. A silver wolf.
Eathan stepped into the crowd of nobles.
I wanted to scream at him, warn him. But I couldn’t. My blood wouldn’t allow it.
I turned to Naria, my eyes desperate. We had to help him. Do something. But she shook her head. “We can’t.”
The wolf stepped forward and grabbed Eathan’s arms from behind.
“What are you—”
The soturion covered his mouth, and dragged Eathan from the ballroom.
Hardly anyone looked up. But the mood had changed. Everyone’s aura suddenly dampened, being pulled back, held close.
“That’ll be us next,” Naria hissed. “If we don’t play the game.”
“We’re not playing the game! We just do what they tell us to do.”
“And we’re alive because of it,” she said. “Eathan asked one question. One. He framed it innocently enough, and you saw what happened. Now just stay calm.”
I tapped my foot. We’d been having these parties almost every night for a month.
Celebrating Arianna’s consecration as Imperator.
Celebrating the decision to bring Bamaria and Elyria together under New Korteria.
Pretending Arianna actually wanted that, or our people liked the decision.
And worst of all: pretending it was temporary.
And it didn’t stop there. We had another celebration when Viktor was made Arkasva of Korteria.
And another yet again to mark the Emperor’s first month on the throne.
Next thing I knew we’d be having a party because the Bastardmaker took a really clean shit.
Anything to keep the Council distracted and happy.
Anything to keep them from asking questions like Eathan.
“Mind your thoughts,” Naria said quietly. “You don’t know who’s listening.”
I sighed. It must have been all over my face. And she was right. Someone wasn’t listening though. Someone was watching.
The Bastardmaker crossed the room. “Smile. It’s a party.” I smiled, like an idiot.
Some time passed, musicians played, and water dancers traipsed through the ballroom to perform several songs. Drum beats echoed against the walls, and I drank two more glasses of wine.
I was about to call over Bellamy, have him send word to Galen that we should get some real alcohol later. Like we usually did. Then I remembered. The sorrow crashed back into me, nearly knocking me over.
I eyed my grandmother, desperately hoping she’d at least let me retire for the evening.
But she shook her head, her eyes cold.
“We have one more surprise for you all tonight,” Arianna announced.
“I know that in our positions we are often not able to see what our people do. And sometimes it can be hard to understand where they’re coming from, or their needs.
We represent them, and we care for them with our leadership, and our policies.
I think to do so effectively, it’s important that we connect with them as deeply as possible. ”
I eyed Naria suspiciously. Where was this going?
But she only shrugged. Since we’d actually started having real conversations, I’d learned that her mother kept her in the dark about nearly everything. That one of the reasons she always seemed angry, was because she was actually nervous, never knowing what Arianna would ask of her next.
“I’ll let Arkturion Waryn share with you what’s going to happen next,” Arianna said.
The Bastardmaker walked into the center of the ballroom, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
“We have with us three accused vorakh,” he announced.
I paled.
“Now they are only accused,” he said. “Which means, they have a chance to prove their innocence. And as you don’t usually get to see the way this happens, I thought it best to use this opportunity for a demonstration.
Further proof of how strong Bamaria is. How strong New Korteria can become.
And how the betrothed of your Heir Apparent, Lady Naria Batavia, is able to do this for you. ”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
“Lord Tristan, come and show everyone just how skilled you are at protecting your people.”
I joined his side, using all my willpower to keep from trembling.
The Bastardmaker leaned in, whispering in my ear. “And this time you only have to hold your stave, not your cock. Smile.” I grinned, my stomach roiling.
Soturi, all in silver, marched through the doors, each one holding the ropes of a bound mage. Two women, one man. They all seemed to be around my age, probably still at the Academy, studying.
And completely undeserving of what was about to happen.
“Well,” he said, “go ahead.”
I cleared my throat. “I usually apprehend at the time of a vision or when they’re in the act of using their vorakh. It can be hard to say when the ability is docile.”
“But you’re our star hunter,” he said, and snapped his fingers. A black box floated into his hands. “Now,” he said, pulling back the lid. A black nahashim poked its head out and hissed. “Go and hunt.”
My stomach clenched in pain, fear choking me from the inside.
I’d never touched one. I was just the face of this task force.
Yes, I’d had to arrest a handful of vorakh—the ones having visions in front of me.
Like I always had. I’d had no choice—not when there were witnesses.
But this—I’d never done this, and I did not want to touch this snake.
This snake that was primed to sniff out the very thing I had inside, that I had to hide.
“Do it,” the Bastardmaker hissed. And pain shot through my arms and legs. I had to obey.
I picked up the snake, shocked at how hot the scales were in my palm.
“Who shall we test first?” he asked, his voice booming.
“Accused criminal one,” he pointed to the first woman, tanned skin, with blond hair that reminded me of Naria’s, “accused number two,” he pointed to the woman in the middle.
She had a long narrow face, sleek black hair, and her entire body was shaking.
“Or accused three?” The man. Not a mage I realized as I looked more closely.
He was built like a soturion, with brown hair and eyes, the same color as mine.
Everyone in the room began to call out different numbers. Most seemed in favor of the blonde woman. And I had a sickening feeling why.
“Well?” he asked. “Who will it be? Where do your instincts lead you?”
“Three,” I said. The male soturion. Immediately the men in the room began to boo and show their disapproval. Several of the wolves even howled.
The Bastardmaker huffed in obvious disappointment. “Interesting choice,” he drawled, his voice low. Then he shrugged. “Remove the ropes, keep the binding. And take his robes.”
The man began to shake, his eyes wide. “No. Please.”
But a mage, one in Ka Kormac colors, was already taking the ropes away with their stave, and then one of the soturi ripped his robe right off his back, leaving him completely nude.
There were a few gasps. My grandmother had the decency to turn away.
But Arianna looked delighted, her eyes sparkling as she took in the man in his current form.
Breathe. Breathe.
I walked forward, unable to look him in the eye. If I did, I’d give it all away.
“Please, please don’t.” His voice shook. “I don’t have vorakh. Or any magic. I’m just a soturion. Please.”
Vomit rose up my throat, and I swallowed, placing the nahashim against his face.
It slithered up to his eyes, and then its body vanished within.
The man screamed in pain, his body convulsing as a black mark in the outline of the snake appeared in his cheek and began to slither. He screamed, convulsing, and the two women beside him started to cry in fear.
And I could do nothing, couldn’t stop it, couldn’t help.
I just had to watch as it moved through him, violating him, hurting him, searching deeper and deeper.
Until at last, the snake began to slither its way back up to his face.
His neck reddened, his body breaking out into sweat that dripped from his forehead.
Suddenly the snake flew out of his mouth, landing, slippery in my hands.
I stared down at it in horror. It turned its head, and I swore it stared back at me.
That it was reaching up, trying to touch my face, to slip inside me and expose my secrets.
Its tongue shot out, black eyes shining, its head rearing.
I rushed it back to the Bastardmaker, throwing the snake into the box as the man retched, vomiting on the floor.
Several nobles backed away, making horrified sounds of disgust.
I was going to vomit next. I was actually going to vomit. But the Bastardmaker stared at me firmly. “Swallow,” he commanded.
I did. My throat burning. My stomach twisting.
He examined the snake, looking into its eyes, a sudden frown on his lips. The man was innocent. The nahashim found nothing.
“Guilty,” he announced.
“No,” groaned the man.
The vomit came up again. “I-I’m going to—”
The Bastardmaker rolled his eyes. “Go then.”
I ran from the room, Bellamy and Eric on my heels, running to the nearest bathroom I could find. I was barely inside, before I collapsed on the ground and heaved.