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

46. Rose

46

Rose

I’m ready.

M y hand shook as I wrote the two little words on the back of the parchment Gayl had sent the evening of the challenger’s feast.

Conflicting emotions warred within me. Wrath at him for what he’d put me through, yearning for more of my father’s past, curiosity about the magic he’d learned. And in the mix of it all, guilt. Both for the secrets I was harboring, even if it was to keep Leo safe, and for my own desires. No matter how much I ignored it, part of me wanted these meetings with Gayl. As much as I despised the man, he represented a piece I’d been missing for twenty years. He possessed a magic that drew me in, that sang to the darkest parts of my soul. A magic that said “you’re not alone.”

Within seconds of setting the paper on my bed, it burst into flames and vanished. I gasped and jolted backward, barely having time to recover before a second note appeared in thin air, the ends smoking. I caught it and winced at the slight heat. Gayl’s response was penned in black, the ink still wet .

Meet me where you once found me in half an hour. Our blood reveals the entrance.

-T.G.

Nervous anticipation wound around my gut as I waited a few minutes, then collected my dagger, pouch of herbs, and hand drawn map of the palace. Horace was instantly at my side when I stepped out the door, but I held up a hand to stop him from following me.

“I need to do this alone, Horace.”

I could tell it went against his very nature to acquiesce and watch me head off toward uncertain danger, but he knew this was Rissa’s request. It was for the Sentinels.

That’s what I told myself, anyway.

The journey down two flights and to the northern end was quick and quiet. Hardly anyone loitered in the corridors, as most people were likely eating dinner or in bed at this hour.

I came upon the familiar hallway, and to my surprise, the usual slew of guards was nowhere to be found. Striding to the end and standing before the same wall as before, I examined my surroundings, first feeling along the edges of the two lit sconces, then kneeling and swiping a hand at the bottom of the stone wall. Nothing was out of the ordinary. No mechanism that triggered the opening of a door, no hole or button or switch. The only thing left was the painting of the fountain in the center.

I crossed my arms and stared at it, willing it to show me the answer. With a sigh, I ran a finger along the golden frame and the outline of the garden surrounding the fountain, gliding my thumb across the pool of crystalline, blue water.

A sharp sting sliced through the pad of my thumb. Jerking my hand back, I saw a bead of blood blooming at the tip and stuck it in my mouth to soothe the ache. When I looked back up at the portrait, my eyes widened.

From the center, dark red oozed over the blue, turning the water in the fountain the color of my blood. The ripples and whorls deepened, trickling over the side of the fountain. I watched in half amazement, half disgust as the blood bubbled down the painting and began to shimmer. Not just the blood—the entire portrait was flickering, like some sort of mirage.

When I blinked, a door stood in its place.

It opened soundlessly when I pulled on the handle. Before me stood the same narrow, cold corridor I’d encountered the first time. The hallway seemed to extend forever, with closed doors lining the sides and only a handful of dimly lit sconces gracing the stone walls. Slowly, I made my way to the door in the center, the one I’d seen Gayl stop at the day he caught me spying.

The moment I stepped before the door, it swung open with a creak, leading to a dark room with shadows of furniture slinking across the floor. Silhouettes elongated and reached out to nip at my feet. Shivers raced down my spine, a chill settling in my bones.

He certainly had a flair for the dramatic.

“Come in, Rose,” Gayl’s soft voice said, coming from deep inside the room. I hesitated before shutting the door, willing my anger from earlier to reemerge. Anything was better than this unease.

The chamber was much larger than I’d originally thought. Lining the wall to my left was a long row of bookshelves, full of pristine, leather-bound books and stacks of disheveled pieces of parchment. Quills and inkwells, marble pestles and mortars, crystal glasses in various shapes and sizes, and dried herbs hanging from twine littered every free space. A large desk stood in the center of the room, with several tapered candles resting in brass holders, shedding light on the man sitting in the burgundy wingback chair.

Gayl appeared more casual than I’d ever seen him, with brown suspenders and a white tunic tucked into gray pants, the same gloves he always wore still tight around his hands. His long, silver and black hair was unbound and hung to his shoulders, a matching beard growing in fuller than last time. He leaned over the desk, scribbling something in a notebook, not bothering to look up as I approached.

My wariness waned as I took in his Alchemist’s den. I could feel his magic coating the room, and as the scent of familiar herbs and the sound of his quill scratching against paper washed over me, my magic stirred.

“Congratulations are in order,” he said, still looking at his notes. He set the quill down and peered up at me, my father’s blue-gray eye catching me off guard again. “You completed the second trial swiftly. You should be proud of yourself.”

My curiosity vanished, replaced with indignation. “ Proud ?”

He didn’t react to the venom in my tone. “Yes, proud. It’s quite an accomplishment. You did better than I would have expected.”

I gaped at him. “It’s not an accomplishment !” I gritted out, my voice raising. “I barely got out of there with my mind intact. I can’t even look at my family without imagining them dead. I killed people in that dreamscape, and one of us died in there. You have the nerve to tell me I should be proud?” My fingers clenched at my side. “Forgive me, Your Majesty , if I don’t find your cruel tricks particularly gratifying.”

He sighed. “Rose, you must know I had no control over what you would see during the trial. My architects and I designed the potion, of course, but only the initial scenario. Your mind conjured the rest. Your subconscious filled in the gaps, bringing life and your own unique journey to the simulation.” He rounded the corner of his desk to step closer to me, and I backed away. “The potion was created to seek out the inner turmoil of your heart and find what would best test you. What would show your strengths and weaknesses. How you reacted to that test was the true trial.”

I waved my hand angrily in the air. “You still knew what you were doing! How does magic like that even work ? You can’t control it.” My brow furrowed as I tried to imagine ways such power could be used. “It—it’s chaotic. Dangerous . What if all of us never woke up, like Callista? What if we lost our minds in there? Do you even care ?”

“Of course I care. That’s why we had protocols in place once each challenger awoke to ensure their safety and recovery. Miss Greyhound was an unfortunate accident.” He took another step toward me. “Simply because you do not understand this magic does not mean it’s dangerous , Rose. That’s what I wanted to show you. What your father?—”

“I know you tricked him into practicing blood magic,” I snapped. “My aunt told me all about your past together, how you took advantage of him after your parents died until he came to his senses and wanted nothing to do with you.”

To my surprise, Gayl chuckled dryly. “Did she, now? Your aunt is a foolish woman.”

Rage enveloped me. I opened my mouth to defend her, but he cut me off, a sliver of his power breaking through that calm demeanor. “She doesn’t know anything of our past. Hamilton was the one who approached me about my magic. He desired to know the full extent of our abilities. There was no manipulation, no compulsion. We worked together to both overcome the grief of our parents and learn the inner workings of what was rightfully ours.” Gayl didn’t move, but he seemed to grow taller and tower over me, his presence all-consuming. “Are you so eager to paint me as the villain in this story that you would blindly believe any empty-headed lie without attempting to seek the truth? I expected better of you, Rose.”

I don’t know why his words pierced me when moments ago I didn’t even want to believe anything that came from his mouth. My voice was smaller, reluctant, showing my lack of confidence when I said, “Morgana wouldn’t lie to me.”

He turned back to his desk. “She may not have done so knowingly, but biased ignorance is just as harmful.” Sitting in his chair, he refused to meet my eyes. “You may go.”

My stomach sank. “What? Why?”

“Because you seem to be following the same path as her, and so many like her. Dismissing what you don’t understand. Believing that which you desire most to be true instead of searching for real answers. That is not the daughter of Hamilton Wolff I intended to speak with tonight.”

I flinched. Was he right? Had I been convinced for so long that Theodore Gayl was the enemy that I willingly accepted any slander against him, with no thought of if it were true ? Without hearing his side? I didn’t have proof that he spoke the truth, but I didn’t have any proof that Morgana knew what she was talking about, either. Gayl had done some terrible things in his time as emperor, things I didn’t agree with, but how much of that was because it was cast in a negative light?

He could be called a curse bringer, since the Somnivae curse was born of his magic. Or…a savior. He saved lives that night. He’d created division among the provinces, yes, but he also strengthened them. Even I would be naive not to admit how powerful some of the provinces had grown. It was why he still had supporters in the empire, why some still praised his name. Perhaps, with time, he might see the damage he’d inflicted and work to change it for the better.

I would never know if I didn’t give him the chance.

I took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. I won’t pretend I understand everything. Or that I’ll always agree with you. But…I know what it’s like to be judged before someone gets to know you. To have people only see the worst in you.” Gayl continued scribbling in his journal as I spoke, and I rubbed at the fringes of my sweater, sudden desperation setting in. I could feel the last hope of recovering those pieces of my father sliding away.

“Please, Your Majesty. I—I want to learn about my father. I want to learn about what the two of you discovered, about our magic and the things we can do. I just—I just want to know him.” Please, don’t give up on me. Please don’t let me lose this.

He finally looked up, one dark and one light eye staring back at me. Searching. Weighing. My breaths were shallow as I waited for his response, my chest and the backs of my eyes burning .

He set his quill down. “I think that’s enough with the formal titles, don’t you agree? You may call me Theodore.”

I let out a breath. “Does that mean you’ll let me stay? You’ll teach me?”

“Yes, Rose.” The wrinkled lines around his mouth deepened as he gave me a faint smile. “I will teach you.”