In the Wake of the Wicked (Veridian Empire #1)

Prologue

I n the stillness of the palace, a scream ripped through the air.

Footsteps clattered against stone, and the door flew open with a bang .

“Emperor Aris!” the midwife shouted, summoning him to the bed with a bloody rag. The frayed ends of her gray hair clung to the nape of her neck, sweat rolling down her forehead. Her hands were steady as she knelt over the bed in the center of the room.

A half dozen healers and servants rushed past, but Branock Aris focused on his wife. His breath caught at the white sheets beneath her, soaked in red, her eyes bloodshot and her wavy blonde tresses tied back with a strap of leather. Tendrils of it were plastered to her sweat-slicked skin. And in her arms?—

“It’s a girl,” his wife told him, a smile lighting her tired eyes.

Branock dropped to his knees at the side of her bed. “Evadine,” he whispered, heart pounding in his chest. “She’s…she’s beautiful.” His voice was laced with awe as he took in the sight of his wife and daughter, whose little eyes were scrunched closed and tiny fingers were poking out from the blanket wrapped tightly around her. “Why did you not call for me?”

“There was no time, Your Majesty,” the midwife explained. “ Her labor came quickly. I was barely able to get here myself before she began to push.”

He looked at Evadine. “A girl.” He repeated her words and leaned forward to kiss the baby’s forehead, then Evadine’s. “You did so beautifully, my love,” he rasped.

His wife’s eyes met his, full of joy despite the exhaustion that lined every feature. A smile formed on her lips. She opened her mouth to reply when her gaze became unfocused and her eyes rolled into her head.

Branock’s heart lurched to his throat. “Evadine?” He gripped the back of her neck, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Evadine, open your eyes.”

When she slumped in his hold, he frantically turned to the midwife. “What’s happening? What’s wrong with her?”

A second healer swiftly took the baby girl from Evadine’s limp arms. The head midwife lifted the blanket at Evadine’s feet, her eyes widening. “I think…there is another baby, Your Majesty.”

Pulse rushing, stomach churning, he gasped, “ Another ?”

Ignoring him, she hastily motioned to her assistant, who moved to Evadine’s head and placed a flask of smelling salts beneath her nose. Within moments, Evadine roused, confusion lighting her face as she found Branock’s eyes.

He couldn’t believe the words about to come out of his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he said, “There’s a second baby, my love. You’re going to have to be strong one more time.”

Her lips parted. “A second ? How?—”

Her question turned to a moan as a labor pain swept through her. She flung her head back in anguish, and a healer hurried to place a cold cloth on her forehead.

“I’m going to need you to push when I say,” the midwife directed gently to Evadine, who grasped Branock’s hand tighter. His wife clenched her teeth and slammed her eyes shut. Branock watched in horror as blood continued to soak the bed and the midwife’s hands.

Too much blood .

“It’s time—push, Your Majesty,” the midwife commanded. Another cry tore from Evadine’s throat, making Branock’s chest constrict. He kissed her whitened knuckles as the midwife instructed her each time to keep pushing. Evadine whimpered and fell against the headboard, eyes fluttering.

“Evadine—Eva, one more push and it will all be over.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Meeting his eyes, she gritted her teeth, and he sensed her body clenching, another shriek clawing up her throat.

“Some—something’s wrong, Bran,” Evadine gasped, her hold on his hand tightening even further. Her face screwed in anguish as she tried to push again, more blood flooding the foot of the bed. “I can’t—I can’t—” Her words were forced and stammered, the vise-like grip on his fingers slowly loosening as her head dropped to her shoulder.

“No!” he roared, leaping to his feet and facing the midwife. “Get it out of her !”

The midwife strained to keep her voice calm. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, but I—I think the baby is breached. It isn’t ready.”

“Then get it ready,” Branock snarled. “This is killing her!”

”We’re trying, sir, but—” The midwife paused, indecision warring across her features as her eyes flitted back and forth.

He didn’t have time for this. His wife didn’t have time for this. “Whatever it is, tell me,” he said, suddenly weak in the knees. “Tell me how to save them.”

The midwife swallowed. “Your Majesty, I fear we are going to have to use other means to deliver this baby, and I don’t know if both of them will survive.”

The words rang through his mind, his vision graying as his heart hammered in his chest.

Never had he felt such distress. Such helplessness. It consumed him, wrapped around his throat and pulled. I don’t know if both of them will survive . He knew what Evadine would want—save the baby. Save their child.

But he could not lose his Eva. This was not a choice he could make in a thousand lifetimes.

And so, he wouldn’t.

He knew what he had to do.

Striding out the door, he found the nearest servant. “Get Theodore,” he commanded. The young man stood to attention, blinking rapidly at the request. “ Theodore Gayl ,” Branock repeated angrily. “I don’t care if you have to drag him from his bed—get me Theodore Gayl. Now! ”

Back inside the room, the midwife threw him a sharp look. “What are you doing, Your Majesty?”

“What I must to save my wife and child.”

She opened her mouth to argue further, but she must have seen the determination in his eyes, for she turned her attention to the healers and began doling out quick instructions.

Branock strained his ears for the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, clenching and unclenching his fist as he kept his eyes on his wife, whose face was now leached of color.

She was running out of time.

He knew the risks, knew the chance he was taking by calling the Alchemist. But he didn’t have a choice.

Finally, a knock sounded on the door, then was thrown open by the servant boy and a man following close on his heels. His long, greasy black hair hung past his pale neck, a wrinkled robe thrown on in haste over his night clothes. Theodore Gayl’s piercing eyes took in the scene and met Branock’s, sending a shiver down his spine. Those eyes shocked him every time he saw them. One of dark blue, one of pure white. Theodore’s forehead wrinkled as he tilted his head, and Branock knew he understood without words. His wisdom, his intuition, went far beyond his mere thirty years of life.

“Your Majesty, I don’t know what you think I can help with, but?—”

“Save them, Gayl. My wife and the baby. I know you can— you’re the most powerful Alchemist this empire has seen in centuries.”

Theodore’s eyes flicked back to Evadine. The midwife had taken her position at the foot of the bed again, a sharp blade in her hand readying to cut into the skin at Evadine’s stomach. Branock could feel his heartbeat in every inch of his body. There wasn’t enough time .

Theodore took a step toward him. “Sir, what you ask is?—”

“I don’t care , Gayl! Look at her!”

The man swallowed. “The cost will be great.” His voice was low, hesitant.

“Then I will pay it,” Branock said, gripping Theodore’s arm. “Whatever it is, I will pay the price. Just…save my family, Theodore. I beg you.”

Theodore held his gaze for a second. Two. Branock’s chest caved in until finally, the man gave a curt nod and knelt at Evadine’s side.

Branock’s eyes fell shut in relief, a heavy breath leaving his lips.

The midwife’s blade sank into Evadine’s stomach, flaying the skin open on either side. As Branock watched her hands dip inside his wife, soaked in blood, Theodore Gayl’s murmured words reached his ears. His mouth moved faster than Branock could comprehend, whisperings of power flowing from between his lips. The air was heavy with the cloying taste of magic, blood, and the herbs Gayl had pulled from his pocket and now clutched in his fist. Something red leaked from the man’s clenched hand, but Branock was too focused on his Evadine to care.

Branock stumbled to the other side of the bed, eyes on his wife’s pale, lifeless expression, when the midwife exclaimed, “It’s a boy!”

But the babe…the babe would not cry.

The emperor’s heart shattered at the realization, unsure where to draw his attention—on his Eva, his bride, slowly fading from this world, or his son, struggling to draw breath.

His head snapped to Theodore, whose face was screwed in concentration. “Why is it not working ?” he hissed.

The midwife sucked in a breath. “Your Majesty, this is dark magic you’re attempting?—”

“Silence!” he roared, but his anger swiftly turned to despair. “What choice do I have?”

Suddenly, Theodore’s eyes snapped open, the blue and white fixed intently on Branock. “This will be a far greater burden than you are prepared to bear.”

Branock gritted his teeth. “I will decide what I can and cannot bear. Do it , Gayl. I will not ask again.”

Without hesitation, Theodore clapped his bloody hands together, his chanting growing louder as a current of power flowed through him. It felt like the air had been siphoned from the room, pulled tight as a bow string, the tension stretching and stretching until Branock was sure he would burst. His breath was shallow, his mind muddled.

With a snap, a bolt of magic erupted from Theodore, sending Branock stumbling.

The cry of not one, but two babes rang in his ears.

He quickly righted himself and reached for the healer holding his daughter, his gaze frantically searching for the other?—

There, by the window. Safe. His son was safe.

But something caught his attention in the sky beyond the window.

His mouth fell open.

A red mist descended from the heavens, draping itself like a blanket over the land. He staggered to the sill. His breath fogged the glass as he peered through the dim moonlight. The red cloud coated the thin line of forests outside his palace grounds, coasting down to meet the tips of the buildings of Veridia City, the trees and gardens, the streets and houses. It settled into the ground and dissipated, gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.

He blinked away his disbelief.

“What was?— ”

“The cost, Your Majesty,” Theodore said from behind him. Branock whirled, his stomach leaping into his throat.

Evadine.

She still lay unconscious as the midwife and a healer sewed the incision together, but the color had returned to her cheeks, her breaths now deep and even.

“Sh-she’s alive,” he breathed. “Both of them.” He took Theodore’s hands in his own. “Thank you, Gayl. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“You have no idea what this has done, Your Majesty.” Theodore stared into Branock’s eyes. “What you have unleashed upon your empire.”

Branock’s heart stuttered. He wet his lips, a sour lump forming in his throat. “What do you mean?”

“The price of this kind of magic runs deep, Branock.” Theodore extracted himself from Branock’s grasp, glancing at both of the crying babes and their sleeping mother. “But it is not you who will pay it.”

Branock’s eyes strayed to the view of his land outside the window, terror gripping him.

What had he done?