Emperor Avery came to stand by my side as the female mage asked Galen another question.
“Mind reader,” the Emperor said, pointing at her.
“What?” I nearly jumped. “But that’s—they’re … vorakh,” I hissed.
He nodded. “Yes. They are. I think we almost came to an agreement before, you and I. Your friend’s life for Lyriana’s and that bastard son of Hart’s.”
I shook my head. “But … but you saw him, saw him kill—” I cut myself off. This wasn’t going to help Galen. But how could it hurt him? Hehadkilled the Emperor, and everyone had been a witness.
“Everyone knows it was the soturion playing Moriel.” He shrugged. “He was masked. Only a few know his true identity. A little asking around will tell me how big a problem it is. Perhaps the killer switched clothing with him at the last moment. Who’s to say? He could still walk free.”
My heart pounded. “He could?”
“If he can offer more information, someone else who might have helped him. I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. I lost my uncle. But I’ve gained an Empire.”
I shivered. His uncle had been murdered right in front of him. But he felt no remorse. No guilt. Not even a hint of sadness. Fuck. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost bet he put the knife in Galen’s hand. Told him the moment to strike. He’d wanted this outcome. And he hadn’t cared how it came about. And the more I thought about it, the more I wondered how Galen had gotten his chance. Kormac had chosen him to be Moriel—to get back at me. But how had he managed to get to the Emperor? To get so close. Surely Theotis had more protection to guard against such a thing—didn’t he?
I thought of how Galen told me that he wasn’t the only one who wanted the Emperor gone. And Kormac had been spying on me. What would have prevented him from spying on the soturi, from uncovering any assassination plots. And then not stopping them?
But that would mean … No. No.
Was I farther than Lethea? Had Kormac set Galen up?
Swallowing, I stared back at Kormac. “I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Why bring me here?” I looked uneasily at the mages. The vorakh. “What is their purpose?”
All at once their attention was on me, their auras full of hatred.
And they should hate me, I realized. I was one of them, and the biggest traitor of all.
Emperor Avery grinned. “Them? They’re all here because of you. This is what becomes of them. Lethea is for testing. To better understand the depth and scope of their talent. If strong enough, they come here to serve at the Emperor’s pleasure. At my pleasure now. They’re known as the chayatim, the cloaked ones.”
I shook my head, not believing him. Sure that this was some sort of trick, or nightmare. “They’re not stripped?” I asked. “Not locked up?”
“No. Some are, but most are useful. And we hate to throw away valuable resources.” He smirked, his face more wolfish than I’d ever seen. “I sent for these chayatim specifically. Just for you. Don’t you recognize them?”
“No, of course not,” I said quickly, fearing he was casting me as one, that this was all some big joke, his sick and twisted way of telling me that he knew my secret.
But then the mage before Galen turned around again, looking me full in the face, and then I did recognize her.
It was two years ago. I caught her in the fall. I’d recognized the look of pain on her face, the migraine she had, and the way her eyes had darted so carefully from person to person in the city. She was aware of who I was—what I did. And the moment her eyes caught mine, she ran. I knew instantly, and chased. She was bound barely moments later.
And now she was here. A servant. Not stripped. Not imprisoned. At least, not in the prison I’d imagined.
She was thinner than when I’d last seen her. So much thinner, and as she looked back again, I realized more details I hadn’t noticed before. The sallowness of her skin, a bruise on her right cheek, just beneath the golden Valalumir tattoo marking her as one of the Emperor’s.
You’ll regret it when he grows. When you see inside his soul like I have. When you learn what he is!
She was here because of me. My fault. I did this. I’d sentenced her to this fate. And the others. All the others.
The bile rose in my throat again.
I heard the door open and the bald soturion marched down the hall, his hand on another mage’s shoulder. A chayatim. A cloaked one.
Not one of mine. Please, Gods, I couldn’t face another.
“Here it is,” said the soturion, slapping the mage across the face, throwing her onto the floor. She landed right before me and the Emperor.
I stepped back in disbelief. This was what we were doing? This was where we were sending all the vorakh? To the Godsdamned Palace, to be beaten and perform mental interrogations—all while the rest of the Empire believed them dead?
