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

36. Rose

36

Rose

I finished braiding my hair for the challenger’s feast and wrapped it around the crown of my head, securing it with a couple of pins. The reflection in the mirror showed a woman ready for combat, of sorts. A tight, sleek black dress as armor; rose-tinted cheeks and darkly lined eyes as a shield; deep red lips and sharp tongue as a sword. This dinner would be a battle, just not in the same way the trials were.

The reflection didn’t show everything, though. It didn’t show my guilt. It didn’t show my unease. It didn’t show my fear.

I’d lied again. I’d kept more from Leo than he could imagine. And I had agreed to keep helping them, to use my relationship with Gayl to our advantage, all under the premise of finding some Grimoire I knew would do us no good.

Despite everything, they still trusted me.

When you look in the mirror, what do you find? A rose in full bloom, with thorns on the vine?

I was beginning to see those thorns now.

And it didn’t help that Leo had been so understanding . I’d expected anger—anger, I could handle. I was used to that. But it was like he was a different person from the man who’d been so quick to write me off. Even when I’d given him every reason to walk away, when I’d warned him against getting too close, he didn’t back down. He said I challenged him. He didn’t see my brashness as a flaw, but a strength.

I closed my eyes. His acceptance made me feel a kind of safety I’d hardly ever experienced. And here I was, keeping perhaps the most important revelation of his life from him. But it was because of his life that I was holding back the truth. Because I couldn’t bear to see him lose it.

A knock on the door made me open my eyes, meeting the gaze of the woman staring back at me in the mirror. She looked like a challenger. A spy. A warrior.

I felt like a fraud.

Moving to the door, I opened it to find a servant with an envelope resting on a tray, my name written on top in what I recognized as Gayl’s handwriting. Being careful not to rip the contents, I tore the envelope open and pulled out two pieces of parchment. One was a handwritten letter, and the other was…a portrait.

Of my father and Gayl.

They appeared to be in their early twenties. The charcoal drawing showed my father with his arm slung around his older brother, his dark hair cropped and clean-cut while Gayl’s was wild and unruly, almost touching his shoulders. They were both smiling, their youthful happiness so contagious it made my lips twitch up in response. My shaking fingers traced the outline of my father’s strong jaw, his laughing eyes, his kind smile. It had been so long since I’d seen him, besides the tiny picture kept in my locket. It was easy to forget he’d once looked like this, so carefree and young.

A tear fell and landed on the edge of the portrait. I hastily wiped it away, the backs of my eyes stinging with the effort to keep my emotions at bay.

I reluctantly set it aside and turned my attention to the note.

Rose,

I apologize for last night and the way I forced such news upon your shoulders. I didn’t intend to cause you alarm, but I fear my story may have pushed you further away.

My brother was first and foremost a scholar. A man who loved the written word and the wealth that knowledge provided him. It’s a shame that the world will never know of the epiphanic discoveries he made, but I believe he would have wanted to share them with you. To pass along the hidden depths of our magic to his daughter, whom I know he treasured beyond all else, even if I never spoke with him of you. That was who Hamilton was. A man of few words, but a heart and mind as wide and endless as the sea.

I found this drawing in what little possessions I took with me from Feywood. Whenever you would like to know more about the Hamilton I knew, pen your response on the back of this parchment. I will receive it.

I look forward to meeting with you once again.

-T.G

I crumpled the bottom half in my grip as I finished, then cursed and quickly spread it out on my bed, smoothing away the wrinkles as best I could.

The hidden depths of our magic .

What would my father have been able to teach me, had he lived long enough? Aunt Morgana had made it sound like Gayl had coerced him into some dark life of blood magic, but Gayl’s words told of how passionate my father was, how he made these profound discoveries. It pricked at my curiosity, dusting off some bone-deep desire.

I let myself dwell on the note for one more moment before tucking it away. I would deal with it later—first, I had to get through this dinner and the second trial that began in the morning.

After carefully folding the drawing so my father’s face stared up at me when I placed it on my bedside table, I made my way out the door, unsurprised to find Horace waiting for me.

He scanned me head-to-toe appraisingly, taking in my dress and heels. “You look…different.”

I snorted. “Be careful, Horace. Keep talking to me like that and we won’t make it to dinner.”

He frowned at me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s a joke . Always the big, grumpy guard,” I teased, flexing my muscles and slouching, forcing my features into a sullen glare.

“I don’t look like that,” he grumbled as we descended a staircase, heading to the dining hall. I smiled when he shifted his shoulders back to stand straighter.

“You’re right, Horace. You’re very handsome,” I said, nudging his shoulder. “Do you have someone back home? A wife or anything?”

He shook his head with a grunt. “Hard to have much of a personal life with the Guard on one shoulder and Sentinels on another.” He lowered his voice at the last part, even though we were the only two in sight.

My playful mood dimmed. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. It must be hard, living a double life. What made you want to do it?”

“I was tired of seeing nothing be done to fix things,” he said with a shrug. “Too many people who should be keeping the capital safe are happy to turn a blind eye. Our emperor included. I got sick of it. You can only watch so many bastards walk away from a crime or so many starving kids in the streets before realizing something’s not right.”

I nodded. “Did Rissa find you? Or did you find them?”

“I found them. Caught Chaz skulking around the perimeter on my night watch and told him I could either turn him in or he could tell me what he was doing and I’d let him go. He told me about the Sentinels, and I knew I had to meet them.”

I considered his story, wanting to ask even more questions but knowing people might be within earshot at any moment. I couldn’t imagine the courage it took to cross his employers, cross the emperor , right under their very noses in order to take a stand on what he believed in. And to continue doing it for years, with the threat of discovery waiting around every corner…

“You’re a brave man, Horace,” I said quietly.

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and grunted.

I huffed out a laugh. Some things never changed.

We reached the dining hall, which was smaller than I’d anticipated. More intimate. A long table stood in the middle, tall candles and strands of greenery as the centerpieces. The low ceiling was painted a light cream with ornamental gold candelabras hanging from it, casting the space in a warm haze. The walls were dark blue and adorned with large landscape paintings—a beautiful cliffside, a snow-capped mountain range, a sunset over a beach. It was all very…relaxing. Cozy.

I was instantly suspicious.

A servant greeted us at the entrance and showed me to my seat, while Horace took his place with his fellow guards at the walls. I glanced down the rectangular table to find each of the challengers’ names written in swirling black ink. Mine was the very last seat on the left side, while what I assumed was Gayl’s seat of honor was at the opposite head. Peering at the name next to mine, I rolled my eyes.

Alaric Rinehart.

“Not my biggest fan, I take it?” Alaric asked from behind, then took his seat beside me.

I didn’t respond. I wouldn’t let these people rile me up tonight. I’d chosen my outfit and appearance carefully; the tight, thigh-length black dress with long sleeves extending to my wrists, little silver loops hooking around my middle fingers that glistened when I silently reached for my wine glass. The black liner beneath my eyelids, sharp enough to wound. The dark red lips that spoke of sin and blood and roses.

I was in control. I’d had enough of letting others think they could say whatever they wanted or walk over me and leave me in their tracks. I may be an Alchemist, one of the least powerful provinces, but I wanted them to know I didn’t belong beneath anyone.

Nox strode in soon after and, to my relief, sat right across from me. He took one look at my steely expression and smirked.

As everyone else filtered in, I noted the seating arrangement. Callista and Callum were next to Alaric on our side of the table. There had been an obvious tactic to the placement—the four people who held such animosity toward one another, forced in tight quarters. Callista’s arm was still in a sling from whatever had happened between her and Callum in the first trial, and while she laughed and spoke cheerfully with Lark and the two architects across from her, I saw the way her eyes narrowed when the Illusionist sat down. The way her hand inched ever so slightly toward her dinner knife, a small beam of light twirling between her fingers.

I knew putting Alaric and me next to each other wasn’t a coincidence, either. I caught Lark’s eye at the opposite end of the table and raised an eyebrow, tipping my head subtly in Alaric’s direction. She gave me a sheepish grin and a shrug. What was more entertaining than sticking a group of hot-headed challengers in a single room with a bunch of forks and knives at our disposal?

Not that we needed sharp objects to hurt one another.

Next to Nox sat Arowyn, who immediately plopped down in her seat, grabbed the bottle of wine from the servant pouring the glasses, and propped her boots up on top of the table.

I shared a look with Nox. Fates, I wanted to be her.

“No hard feelings there, Emberfell?” I heard Alaric say, and turned to see him holding out a hand to Callista.

Tawny skin crinkled at her eyes as she smiled sweetly. “Of course not, Alaric. We all know how these trials go.” She took his outstretched hand, and I could’ve sworn a bolt of static like lightning zipped through the air. Alaric grimaced and flinched when she pulled away.

“Hmm,” I said, taking a sip of wine. “I take it I’m not the only one you graced with your presence in the trial, Alaric?”

“Our paths may have crossed on my way out of the central sector. She looked a little too confident, and I couldn’t have that, now could I?” he said, tapping his nose and offering a light chuckle. “But I didn’t harm the girl. She must have run into the Iluze boy later. Ah, Nox!” Alaric raised his hand across the table in greeting. “Haven’t seen you around the palace much. Been off licking your wounds?” He laughed at his own joke, and I rolled my eyes.

“I’ve never been better, Rinehart,” Nox said smoothly as he tipped his glass.

“You know, I don’t think I caught you during the trial at all. Tell me, what is your form, anyway?” Alaric asked.

I raised my eyebrows over my wine glass. I’d posed the same question days ago, but still, it was a very intrusive thing to ask someone. I was curious, though. The fact that he hadn’t revealed his Shifter form yet made him an enormous threat.

“Probably some sort of rodent,” Arowyn said, shooting Nox a lazy smile from her slumped position. “Like a squirrel. Or a naked mole-rat.”

I coughed. The sweet wine burned as I choked it down.

“Something like that.” Nox’s eyes flashed in amusement. “If you want to see me naked, Strider, you only have to ask.”

“Pass. You’re not my type.”

“Darling, I’m everyone’s type.”

Arowyn smirked. “Trust me.” Taking a swig of the bottle, she planted her feet on the ground and looked up at the head of the table. “Where’s our gracious host, anyway?”

On cue, the entrance doors to the dining hall opened once more, and in strode Emperor Gayl. Lark immediately rose to her feet, and the rest of us followed suit. He wore no cloak this time, opting for a coattail dinner jacket of such a dark green that it appeared black. His gloved hands rested at his sides as he swiftly and silently paced to his seat, flanked by the same short man I’d seen with him the evening I got caught. Daye, I think he was called.

“Be seated,” Gayl said, taking his own seat at the head of the table. Daye sat in the only open spot next to him, across from Lark and the other architects. At once, servants filed in, each carrying a silver platter with a domed lid. The scent of savory spices hit me as they took their spot behind each seated guest.

Gayl flicked his wrist, and the servants set the platters down before us, removing the lids in synchronization.

“Please,” Gayl said, motioning to the food, “Enjoy the evening. It’s for you, after all. Completing the first trial in the Decemvirate is quite a feat. Celebrate it while you can.” His eyes met mine, and I immediately looked down, my stomach churning.

I wanted to forget about our meeting, forget about his past and his note and his offer. I wanted to put aside the guilt I bore for lying to Leo and the promise I’d made to continue searching for answers. But they were like a dozen weeds poking through the soil in my mind, refusing to die, refusing to lay dormant.

The first course was a delicious roasted garlic soup with potatoes, followed by herb-crusted chicken on a bed of wild rice. It was all far more elegant than any food we had back in Feywood, with the fancy garnishes and drizzled sauces. The meat practically melted on my tongue and kept my mouth occupied while I listened in on the conversations around me.

“So, Alaric,” Callista began, twirling her fork in the air at the man. “How did you find yourself here for a second time?”

“Are you the best they had to offer?” Arowyn added, and I grinned around a bite of chicken.

Alaric laughed along with the others. I had to admit, he was surprisingly good-natured despite being on the receiving end of many snide remarks. Most of which had to do with his age or the fact that he lost the last Decemvirate.

“Suffice it to say, I have a personal score to settle,” he answered with a smile, but I didn’t miss the shadows that pooled at our feet before dissipating.

Callum leaned back in his chair. “Speaking of which, Geoffrey said to tell you hello for him, old man.” He smirked, and I had the sudden urge to plunge my fork into his eye. Or somewhere lower.

Alaric stiffened, his grin faltering for a split second. Geoffrey Bardelou, the Iluze challenger whom Alaric had lost to ten years ago, was a common household name, given the dramatic nature of their feud and how it had continued between Tenebra and Iluze for so many months after the fact.

My resentment toward Alaric eased a fraction. He carried himself confidently, and he was no doubt one of the most powerful beings here, but I hadn’t considered how this past decade might have been for him. Tenebra was notoriously one of the most aggressive and unstable of the provinces, and I can’t imagine they were very forgiving when Alaric failed to secure the title of champion last time.

This Decemvirate meant more to him than a mere win. It was a redemption. I couldn’t fault him for doing what it took to best me.

I stabbed my fork into the chicken. Perhaps I could still be a little mad.

“I may be old, boy, but I still managed to surpass you, if I recall correctly.” Alaric bore his jovial smile, although it looked more like bared teeth.

“My, the masculinity in this room smells like sweaty balls and mediocrity,” Arowyn said as she took a bite of her dinner roll, her wine glass in the other hand. “I bet you boys wouldn’t last five minutes against the three of us.” She motioned to Callista and myself. Her tone was casual, indifferent, but her eyes sparked with challenge.

Scoffing, Callum said, “What, the Strider, Lightbender, and Alchemist? You do realize you’re the three weakest provinces, right?”

I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to make some snappy retort, but Nox beat me to it. “A Strider who’s currently at the top of the rankings and an Alchemist who incapacitated you in front of the entire hall,” he said into his glass. “Might want to be careful there.”

Callista propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her fist. “Hmm, interesting ,” she purred. “I wouldn’t mind putting such confidence to the test.”

“This feels like an apt time to remind you that there are no inter-challenger duels between trials,” Lark called dryly from her seat next to Gayl.

My eyes shifted from Lark to Gayl while the others continued talking, and I found his expression to be as bored as if we were talking about the weather. He saw me staring and his lips fell into a thin line. Holding my gaze, he tipped his glass toward the rest of the challengers and quirked an eyebrow. I could practically hear him say, “This is the cream of the crop ?”

I pursed my lips together and looked down at my food, but I knew he caught my little smirk.

Conversation began to break off into smaller sections of the table; the architects on one end were fascinated by Callista and Callum’s stories of their provinces, and it seemed they were attempting to outdo one another in their wild tales of magic. Nox was trying desperately to get Arowyn to laugh at his ridiculous jokes, but she merely rolled her eyes and shot him down each time.

To my annoyance, Alaric twisted to face me. “Look, Rose, I really am sorry for how things turned out there at the mausoleum. It’s the way of the tournament; you know how it goes.”

I sighed. His words might be nonchalant, bordering on arrogant, but his eyes told of his regret. I knew he’d do it again, if put in that situation, but I also could tell he wished he didn’t have to. I supposed we were all in the same position.

“I imagine you would’ve done the same thing to Uncle Ragnar, if he’d been in my place,” I conceded.

“Ah, Ragnar,” he said, his light green eyes growing distant with nostalgia. “That old fellow would have hunted me down if I’d done that to him. I’d have a few more broken bones added to the list.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” I muttered.

“If you’re anything like the rest of your family, I wouldn’t put it past you,” Alaric said, chortling. “Like I said, I knew your parents, too. Your mother was a natural with her charms. And Hamilton…Hamilton was something else entirely. Don’t tell Ragnar this, but if your father was still alive, it would be him in the Decemvirate this year.” He shook his head. “Never seen someone perform magic the way he could. Aside from our emperor, of course.”

As he finished talking, his brow furrowed slightly, and he twisted his neck to look over at Gayl. But before he could start putting any pieces together, Lark stood to get everyone’s attention.

“I wanted to thank you all for joining us on the eve of the second trial. Before we retire for the night, His Majesty would like to give a toast.” She gestured to the servants lining the wall. They began passing out slender flutes of sparkling wine to the guests.

The dining hall went silent as Gayl stood, shadows flickering on the walls behind him. He raised his flute in the air. “Well done, challengers. You have proven your knowledge with a trial of puzzles and riddles. Tomorrow, we discover the truth of who you are at the heart of the matter.” His mismatched blue and white eyes landed on me. “To your mettle and your spirit. I pray you will not be disappointed by either.”

At that, he lifted his glass higher, then tilted it back and drained it.

And the rest of us drank with him.