Page 126 of Burn Her They Said
“What?” Varic says. “It’s not like Fray could fly you this covertly.”
Lars laughs, clapping Fray on the back before wrapping an arm around his shoulder to pull him in for a side hug. “No, what Fray lacks in stealth and precision, he makes up for in speed, height, and distance.”
“None of which are helpful in this situation,” I say to Fray with a sympathetic shrug. “Sorry, friend.”
He shrugs in return and falls in behind Varic and me, lining up to exit the open doorway. We trudge on in compliance with the Emperor’s commands, feeling as if we are getting away with some form of revolution.
Chapter Forty-Four
Compliance
Eyes forward, I pull on what little magic I can access and send it out in blue-green spirals, imbuing complacency into the hearts of all who stare at me. Stomach roiling as we leave the Emperor’s bathing chamber, I half-expect the Imperial Guards we pass to notice something different with my gait, though most wouldn’t dare utter a word against me.
The Emperor’s bedchamber feels entirely different in the light of day. Hazy light from the gray morning whispers in through the tall, arched windows, highlighting the plush rug concealing the drain where my mind transposes the image of the messenger bleeding freely through our Empire’s sigil.
Two Guards stream in behind us, escorting Cirrin and Malin, who appear to have bathed and wear clean uniforms. None of us bother to hide the way our shoulders relax the moment they step into place behind me.
Cirrin’s healing envelops me—a morphing light-and-dark-blue hue covering me—in what must be an overreaction to our having been separated. My pain subsides, and energy feels as restored as it can be, allowing me the ability to maintain a magical connection to His Majesty’s mood while he busies himself with draining a goblet full of sparkling wine flavored with blackberry juice. His eyes find mine as he swallows the contents in one noisy gulp, with the crystal singing once the base meets the wooden table, where he has set it for a refill.
“Eat,” Emperor Aldritch commands, gesturing with an outstretched hand.
I bow, forcing a polite smile, smoothing the silk of my robe over my nightgown to sit on the black upholstered dining chair Fray has pulled out for me. I spear a portion of roasted potato and use my teeth to let it drop to my dry tongue, making chewing all the more difficult. My throat bobs uncomfortably, begging for liquid as I swallow. Then my hand noticeably shakes as I reach for the sparkling wine with the same hint of blackberry juice the Emperor is enjoying.
“Have you learned your lesson, my little witch?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
He leans forward and snatches my hand, still shielded by Varic, and says, “I’ll admit, I liked the look of you in chains more than I thought I would.” He releases his hold and pats the back of my hand before grabbing his wine goblet again.
“We leave for Annovia tomorrow at dawn,” he announces without looking in my direction.
“As you command, Your Majesty,” I say, with a surprisingly steady voice.
“Eat. I need you sturdy for this trip.”
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
I ignore his noisy chewing the best I can and force myself to chew through my disgust with the texture.
“Come,” he says, patting his upper thigh.
My eyebrows raise, unsure how to proceed. “Your?—”
“I said”—he slaps his thigh—“come.”
I chance him chastising me by grabbing the goblet and swallowing the rest of the sparkling wine before slowly rising from my chair. I avoid making eye contact with my Guards, under the weight of their stares—as well as the heat of one in particular.
I turn my back to the Emperor, an action considered treasonous outside of his direct command, when Varic’s shield pulses heavily around my thighs, hips, and back, where he holds me tightly in his protection.
A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of my lips when the Emperor’s clammy hands grab hold of Varic’s magic as it possesses my hips while he eases me down to sit in a position which is familiar enough—having been made to do this very thing anytime he has sensed me pulling away over the years.
Varic’s fury spears through me as tiny lightning bolts spark along the sides of his hands, and I don’t think. I just send him reassurance, appreciation, and gratitude for all he’s doing for me, plus a bit of patience I steal from some other beings’ memories—since he can clearly use some—and a sense of my trust in him that we will figure this out. That it is going to be okay, because we will make it that way.
His shoulders relax, and he chances a quick glance at my eyes, then lets out a small sigh before turning to survey the doors.
The Emperor grips my hips and shifts me so I sit fully on his bony left leg with my knees filling the gap between his own. He trails a finger along my collarbone to move a stray tendril of hair off my shoulder.
“You will be instrumental to our aim, once in Annovia,” he says, his sulphur breath hot against my skin.
