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

76. Leo

76

Leo

T he palace infirmary was white-washed and cold. A long chamber of bleakness, where the shuffling of feet, clinking of glass vials, and potent scent of ointments made my head pound and vision swim.

It had been three days since I came through the portal. Three days since I’d been stuck behind that magical barrier, only to be thrust into chaos.

My best friend, a dagger speared through his skull.

My twin and Lark, bodies broken and skin torn, bones gleaming in the firelight.

The emperor, dead.

The woman I loved…taken. I’d held her in my arms for a mere moment before the magic she’d unearthed had claimed her mind.

She still hadn’t come back to me.

I knelt at her bedside, rubbing my thumb against the back of her icy hand. She almost looked as if she were under the Somnivae curse, with her lifeless body and pale features, save for the terrified creases that would mark her forehead every few minutes. The twitch of her fingers, the rapid fluttering of her eyes beneath lids.

My hand balled into a fist at my side. She was suffering—she was being tortured, somewhere deep in her mind, by magic we couldn’t see. And there was nothing I could do. When those shimmering trails of light had vanished into her three days ago, it was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Cataclysmic power. Her entire body was set alight, silver rays issuing from every surface, her beautiful hair thrown back and wild. She had looked almost…euphoric, for a split second. Her face split into a brilliant beam and her eyes rolled back into her head as if in the throes of passion.

And then she had screamed. A shriek so loud, so powerful it rattled the walls. When she crumpled to the ground, I swear my heart left my body. I thought she was dead. I thought her sacrifice was the price she’d paid to rid the world of Gayl’s magic.

But she was still alive. Lying in this infirmary, battling some inner demon or curse or consequence for that siphon spell. The one we’d found. One I hadn’t been sure would work.

“How is she, brother?” Rissa asked behind me, the tap of her wooden cane following. It was temporary, the Alchemist healer had said. She was fortunate to even be alive. Ninety-eight broken bones. That was what Gayl had done to her. I wished I could bring him back to life, just to shatter every bone in his body. Rip every limb from its socket.

Rissa’s Shifter blood had healed her broken bones quickly— too quickly. They set incorrectly and the healers had to break them again, one by one, and set them before her magic came into effect. She promised me it no longer hurt, that she was only a bit sore. But every time something snapped nearby, she flinched. Every innocent crack had her partially shifting to her fox form in panic. It killed me to watch her, knowing I couldn’t help.

“The same. What about Lark?” I responded.

Lark had not been as lucky as my sister. While Gayl hadn’t caused her as many injuries as he had Rissa, it had still almost been too much for Lark’s body to handle. Several times over the last three days we thought we would lose her. Her Shadow Wielder abilities didn’t afford the same speed with healing. The Alchemists of the palace had stayed by her side around the clock, throwing any and every healing spell and potion and charm they could think of at her.

Rissa gave me a smile, a rare sight these days. “She woke up long enough to drink some water this afternoon. The healers say she’s turning a corner.”

Some good news, at least.

She cleared her throat. “It’s time to go, Leo. They’re waiting on us to start.”

I squeezed Rose’s hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles before setting it back on the white sheets. Rissa and I left the infirmary and made our way to the west entrance of the palace. When we stepped outside and passed the gardens, we were greeted by the sight of a long canvas tent, with men and women in the silver uniform of the Royal Guard standing in a line behind a long, wooden box. A handful of others were gathered together before it, the white and gold colors of Iluze so bright I had to squint against it.

Today was Horace’s funeral. But unlike the fanfare Rose had described Callista’s memorial as, this one was smaller. More intimate. A traditional ceremony of a member of the Guard, with a few friends from his time in the palace and with the Sentinels.

I hated that three of those closest to him couldn’t stand here to send him off. Lark, Chaz, and Rose would never get to say their final goodbyes. My sister took my hand as we stood there, silently sharing in our grief.

We said goodbye to our dear friend, the man who had sacrificed everything to keep his chosen family safe. Horace was the bravest man I’d ever known, and the fact that I would never be able to tell him so, that I’d never get to thank him for saving my sister in that chamber…it overwhelmed me, like a pile of bricks pushing on my chest.

I promised myself that when all of the dust had settled, when all of us stood together once again, we would go out to the Drakin’s Lair and have a drink in his honor. That disgusting sludge he loved so much. To celebrate , not mourn. He would never want that.

Until then, we had work to do. Gayl’s death was merely the beginning, and while I wanted nothing more than to sit by Rose’s bedside until she woke, my sister needed help.

The empire was in an uproar. In just three days, word had spread about Gayl’s demise, leading everyone to question what would happen next. With half of the challengers dead and the third trial left in a state of unknown, the provinces demanded a winner. They demanded their magic. They demanded assurance they would have the power and strength to fight back if this empire fell into ruins. Rumors spread faster than a wildfire, some speaking of provinces rising up against one another, others claiming a false foreign threat waited at our borders.

Gayl’s council had been meeting around the clock since the day after the trial trying to find a solution. Something to appease the provinces until they could get their heads on straight. I didn’t know what they were expecting in terms of an answer, but it certainly wasn’t my sister.

In true Rissa fashion, she had barged into their meeting chamber mere hours after having her bones reset, with her cane reverberating against the floor and fire in her eyes. Begging them to see reason, to put their hysteria aside and work together to bring this empire back to what it was meant to be.

That first moment, that first move, would set the tone for the future. For the path out of this whirlwind of change. And there was nobody else I would trust to pave the way.

She got to work immediately.

The day after Horace’s funeral, we sent word to all the governors of the provinces, explaining what had happened and expelling any rumors. We extended an invitation for them to come to Veridia City to let their voices be heard and be part of these decisions. Every one of them came, except for Drakorum. Still, it was a win. That challenge could be faced later. There were more questions than answers when it came to the Shifter province, anyway—such as their determination to hide the existence of dragon Shifters, and what they were truly doing with powerful beings such as Nox and his sister Vera.

Rissa and I thought it would take time to convince the governors of our validity and sincerity, but what we weren’t expecting was for some of the members of Gayl’s council to have also been on our father’s council. They remembered Branock and Evadine Aris, how much they had cared for the people and ruled with both firm strength and compassion. And they remembered us . They gave us a chance, which was all we could ask for.

It was a moment my sister and I had dreamed of for years: being able to clear our father’s name, to tell what really happened that night twenty-seven years ago and watch as the people who had been forced under Gayl’s hold for so long finally saw the truth. At least, part of the truth. I had told my sister the full story of Gayl’s curse and the part my life played in ending it, and she was insistent—as Rose had been—that we keep that secret to ourselves. Always trying to keep me safe. We knew we would have to confront the inevitable eventually, but my sister stayed busy with all the other problems brought to the forefront.

Such as our magic.

We decided to divide the wealth of magic evenly between the provinces for the period of a single year. That would allow us time to figure out what we as an empire wanted the Decemvirate to look like going forward—or if there would even be a Decemvirate. It was the first step toward peace that was so strongly needed after decades of being pitted against one another.

Not all of the council members were in agreement. There were still several loyal to Gayl and his reign who seemed determined to fight my sister at every step of the way. For now, however, the desire to show a unified front and get back on our feet outweighed any resentment they held for us usurping their former emperor. I feared we would face some obstacles in the future from them, but that was a bridge my sister could cross when she got there.

Two days after the funeral, Lark regained full consciousness and was able to tell the Alchemists of the palace how to reopen the portal to the island so they could retrieve the bodies of the dead: Salome, Vincent, Alaric, and Callum. Their families and provinces were notified, and the four were given proper burials. Even though Rissa and I hated the idea of their deaths being paraded around, Lark asked that we summon scribes and reporters to spread the news and document it for all provinces to see. She said the empire needed closure on this time, a symbol for the end of this brutal, unprecedented tournament. A way for Veridians to unite and draw together.

Over the next few days, something happened that none of us expected.

Spells began to break, and people began to speak.

First, it was the servants of Gayl’s household. They whispered of the atrocities they’d seen, of the violent way he and his most faithful guards had handled those they deemed lesser than. Then, the guards. The ones who had never been comfortable with their orders but felt compelled to see them through less their families be punished for their actions. Men and women of the Royal Guard like Horace, who had witnessed scandals and murders and vile persecutions that had been covered up. Lords and ladies of the court, those closest to Gayl, confessed their cowardice and showed letters of Gayl’s threats, his blackmail and bribery for their silence.

His death and the death of his magic seemed to have undone the deepest of enchantments he’d cast over the decades. People started convening on palace grounds looking for loved ones who had been captured or killed by Gayl and his men, who’d had the memories of their losses taken away by memory spells. In the last few days, I’d seen countless people fall to their knees in mourning over a lost son or friend or sister or father whom they’d been enchanted to forget years ago, and now relived the trauma fresh in their minds.

With the sorrow came a call for justice. And with that call came the Sentinels.

All over the empire, whispers of the lost Aris heir grew. Planted by members of our ranks hidden in the provinces, the truth of what happened between Theodore Gayl and Branock Aris came to light. Rumors of what Rissa and our people had been trying to do for the last few years spread. Stories of her bravery, her skill, and her conviction rallied hope in a darkened world. It was like a match had been struck, and in a matter of a mere week, the entire land was set ablaze, eager for change. Eager for things to be made right.

Eager for Clarissa Aris, heir to the Veridian Empire.

People lined the streets of the capital to get a glimpse of her. Those old enough to have known our parents came out of the woodwork offering their support, apologizing for believing the lies and slander about our family.

Watching my sister welcomed and celebrated by an empire that had once scorned her brought pride I’d never felt before.

She had done this. She had dreamt and worked for a world better than one she was born into, and perhaps…perhaps that time was coming.

But she hadn’t done it alone.

“It’s been ten days,” Lark said as she wheeled herself into Rose’s section of the infirmary. “I would have thought we’d have seen some sign by now.” She stopped on the other side of the bed, planting her hands across Rose’s arm. The Shadow Wielder despised her limited mobility in the wheelchair, but the healers kept having to remind her she was lucky to even be alive after what she’d been through.

I scratched my chin, still not used to the unkempt beard that had grown over the last week and a half that we’d been living in the palace. Rissa had our mother transported from her sickbed and into a private wing here, along with some of our possessions. The three of us were set up in the guest wings until the imminent future was sorted out.

Morgana and Beau had hardly left the infirmary. Rose’s aunt had insisted her niece be placed in a bed near Ragnar so she could spend her days watching over both of them.

I knew what Morgana was waiting for. We’d heard of enchantments being broken, and every day, I could see the hope fading in her eyes that the curse over her husband would be lifted, that her niece would wake from slumber and all would be right in the world.

But still, they slept. And still, we waited.

There was, however, one more surprise Gayl’s death brought.

“Leo!” Rissa cried as she scrambled into the infirmary, nearly bringing down the curtain dividing Rose and Ragnar Gregor’s beds.

I leapt to my feet, imagining the worst. Some sort of attack or disturbance to disrupt the tentative peace we’d created. My twin’s face, however, wasn’t scared.

It was joyful.

“It’s Mother,” she said breathlessly. “She’s awake.”