Page 192 of Burn Her They Said
The Queen pauses along the path, then walks out onto the grass. The Annovian guards carrying the throne follow her, coming to a halt before the one nearest to Varic turns to address him. “Imperial Lead Guard Varic.”
Varic glances up at me, then returns to peer at the guard speaking. “Yes?”
“With your permission, we will carefully lower the Harvest Throne to the ground.”
Varic nods, and I roll my lips inward as they keep their promise in slowly placing me over the grass in an empty field where a distinct line of soil marks where the crops once grew before they were harvested.
His Majesty comes to stand on my left, flanked by both Lorn and Wyrth, while their Guards form a crescent behind them. Aside from Imelda, who stands beside Wyrth, where she stares ahead with a vacant, unreadable expression.
Queen Celine raises her hands, palm side up, to garner our attention. “Queen of the Harvest.” Her brown eyes pin mine. “We humbly request you offer a sacrifice in honor of the Goddess of the Harvest so she might deign to bless us with a bountiful year.”
My breathing stalls as I peer at the Emperor with the uncertainty of what I am meant to offer, while also confused as to why he doesn’t react any differently, as he simply stares forward, though all I can see are dead crops before us. I try to glean any clues as to what to expect as I squint and scan the crowd around us when my brow furrows, since Prince Auden seems to be missing.
The Queen’s lips curl in an unreadable expression as she turns to the crowd and announces, “We will anoint the land with blood!”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Sacrifice
A ripple of tension flows through each of my Guards as I tether my magic to hold a connection with the intent to siphon their distress should they need it. They all close in to create a formidable shield no one would dare contest. Yet, despite their protection, panic slithers up my chest to wrap itself around my throat, until I can barely choke back any air at all.
His Majesty turns to look at me with what can only be described as bemusement, unnerving me with his calm demeanor while this ominous threat is held over my being. He wouldn’t have brought me here to be sacrificed for another land's benefit, would he?
Not unless they offered him something he values more—like immortality.
But surely they wouldn’t give a tyrant like him any more power. Not even if they need mine for whatever it is the Goddess of the Harvest requires to feed their citizens.
My heart lurches now that His Majesty’s mouth curves in a wry smile as he slowly turns to face the field.
Queen Celine reaches within the side of her skirt, dazzling the crowd as she brandishes a small silver dagger. Its hilt shimmers with sapphires and diamonds, and I flinch as she thrusts the blade high above her head.
The clouds continue to cover the moon, dampening its brightness and adding deep shadows over everyone’s features— the hollows of cheeks and the deep set of certain eyes seeming even more exaggerated with the lack of light around us.
Varic constricts his force-shield over my skin, which thrums harder with every heavy beat of his heart.
“It is time!” the Queen shouts.
Every hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I squint to better track her movements, and my pulse pounds harder when the blade in her hand reflects the red and orange flames dancing over the torches. Her brows furrow as she strikes down and slices a cut along her palm.
Blood oozes from the wound to drip down her fingertips, anointing the field below as her eyes fall closed.
My Guards flex their fists over the grips of their swords, rippling the tendons beneath the black ink of the sigil in their skin, while each one of them braces with their opposite hand held just above their daggers hidden within their ceremonial leathers.
My own fingers itch for a blade or two in hand, though I’m left to sit idly. I turn to observe each of them scanning our surroundings when it feels as if I have been stabbed—because my Guards—they’re all targets.
Five sorcerers so focused on my safety, they might not notice an attack on their being. And if Varic were to fall first, any adversary would have a much higher probability of taking me captive. Even though he has been a target before this, being assigned to my detail has only increased the reasons others would want to assassinate him.
“Queen of the Harvest.” The Queen’s eyes land on mine. “It is now your turn.”
Each of my protectors looks from His Majesty to me before considering the Queen.
“What exactly are you proposing, Your Royal Highness?” Varic asks in a more measured tone than I would expect him to be capable of.
Her smile widens. “Exactly what you have observed of me, Imperial Lead Guard Varic. We ask that our Queen of the Harvest sacrifice her blood in offering.”
If my magic is accurate, His Majesty’s mood remains stable, which does not seem possible. Not after he has ranted and raged when others have asked far less of me. Yet his expression has not changed, and my heart constricts now that I do not know what to expect from him.
Varic’s chest expands with a deep intake of breath. “Do you swear that is all that will be required of her, Your Royal Highness?”
