Page 52 of Ember and Eclipse
She was also free from the witchsilver—for what good it did. Her magic was as silent as ever, no matter how much she tried to focus on it or bring it out. It seemed a cruel thing to have such power and not be able to access it to save herself.
That morning, Asear had come to check on her and see if she would be accompanying him to the party. She was sure he’d show his true colors much faster if she said no. It took all her restraint to say yes without attacking him.
When he came to escort her, that same overwhelming need remained—to claw, bite, maim,avenge.The guards put witchsilver around her ankle, and the burn was almost enough to take her focus off thoughts of killing the Imperator.Almost.
“I have to ensure everyone’s safety, you understand,” Asear had said.
He was dressed in red again, a silky black piece of fabric swung over one shoulder in some fashion she hadn’t seen before. It made him look in every way regal and militant. Even her gown, a deep scarlet with black accents, was tailored in a way she was not used to. It accentuated her wide hips, and the neck swooped enough that it hinted at her cleavage. So much so that she was forced to remove the emerald necklace and the fenty vines wrapped around the chain. She stashed it down the front of the dress, and underneath her breasts with a silent prayer it stayed put in the tight bodice.
As Asear took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, she reached for the necklace absent-mindedly. It surprised her to find that she felt vulnerable without it sitting against her throat.
The sound of a conversing crowd reached her before the music playing in the background did. Outside the large entryway, Asear handed her a piece of black fabric—a mask. He fit his own beneath his eyes and over his mouth and nose, the design simple and elegant.
Something akin to anxiety washed over her as she placed her own on. She suddenly felt as if she was suffocating, the fabric sticking to her mouth and nose and blocking her access to air. It took her forcibly breathing to conquer the irrational fear. The mask was good—it would help her hide her emotions, something she was out of practice in doing.
They stepped inside to an announcement filled with the Imperator’s titles. Crowds of masked individuals clapped, their gazes taking her in as Asear led her inside. It wasn’t the first time he had paraded her in front of an audience, but never one this size.
Asear must have made the masks part of his reign, some symbolism that was lost on her.
For the next hour, he kept her pressed to his side after a brief speech about the great armies of Romul and his own prowess on the battlefield. When the music picked up, the room broke apart into those who wanted to dance and those who were there for more serious endeavors. Though she knew most of the songs, she spent the entire time either disconnected completely or hyper-vigilant of her surroundings, noticing every single person and searching for familiar eyes.
She knew a lot of those in attendance, even with their masks. Some as hands-off participants in her torture and others just from her many years spent in Romul. And though little physical torment was occurring to her, having to be tucked into Asear’s side as people approached him to talk war, politics, and pursue thinly veiled personal gains was its own agony.
“Ah, the Wolf of Romul,” Asear said, tearing her out of her impassive state. “I’m glad you received the invite. I know you usually don’t spend long here, and I feared you might have taken off back to the north before I could thank you.”
Rel forced herself to look at Devdan. He was outfitted in all black with silver accents, the dress tunic and trousers enhancing his muscled thighs and thick arms—perfectly tailored to his physique. His mask was black with silver fangs lightly embroidered into it. With so much black, his eyes seemed brighter than usual.
“That isn’t necessary, Imperator,” Devdan said, his voice sending shivers down her spine.
“She is, hopefully, the future Imperatoress. I’ll triple what I owed you, in fact. That’s how grateful I am for you bringing her home to me.” Asear’s hand rubbed against her affectionately from where he had his arm around her waist.
Devdan marked the motion with a casual flick of his eyes but didn’t look at her. “It’s an honor to have done my duty.”
“I wish I had a thousand men like you,” Asear said with exaggerated sentimentality. “When do you return to the north?”
“If you have no more need of me here, Imperator, I will leave soon. I have some… business that needs attending to first, though.”
“Rest and enjoy yourself—I’ll see those funds get to you before you leave.”
“Yes, Imperator,” he said evenly, tilting his chin down in respect. And then his gaze shifted to her, silver meeting emerald.
“Romul would be lucky to have such a strong and fierce Imperatoress.” He offered his hand, palm up.
Her gaze traveled the distance from his hand back to his eyes. She channeled everything she felt into her glare—the disappointment, the hatred, the betrayal, and even the grief. She hoped the money was worth it.
He dropped his arm with a tilt of his head.
“I apologize for her. She is out of practice with our customs and still recovering from the journey here.” Asear moved her arm, forcing her to raise it to the hunter.
“I understand, Imperator,” he murmured. But his gaze didn’t leave hers as he caught her fist and lifted it. Reaching up, he pulled down his mask just enough to expose his mouth.
His lips brushing against her skin felt like another trap that was set and sprung.
Another lie.
Long after he left, she felt the ghost of his kiss and the phantom warmth of his fingers enclosed around hers.
Chapter XXXI
