“What happened?” the Emperor demanded.
“The Corrupter broke my ward just as we were about to kill him,” I said hollowly. “But Death did his part. I can't blame him for things not working out the way we'd planned.”
“I suppose not,” the Emperor looked around grimly.
That's when I realized the fight wasn't over. Clangs, whooshes, thuds, and the groans of the dead still filled the air. The battle song was softer than it had been before, the dead fewer, but the Wraith Lords were still handling the dead the Corrupter had left behind. They used counterspells now that they weren't being swarmed.
And I needed to help them.
I lifted my chin but then realized that I hadn't brought any with me. “Shit. I don't have my pouch of counterspells.”
“It's all right,” Keltyr said. “It's already over.”
Sure enough, the last of the dead fell, and all that was left was going back to the bodies that had been hacked apart and giving them peace with a counterspell.
“Cart the bodies to Tusara's graveyard and bury them just outside it,” the Emperor said. “This was not a setback, Wraith Lords. It was a lesson. We've learned more about the Corrupter today, and we have considerably depleted his army. We will try again, and next time, we will be victorious!”
The Wraith Lords all stopped what they were doing to lift their fists and roar. I didn't join them. I didn't feel motivated by the Emperor's speech. I felt weary. Wrung out. Let down. No matter what he said, thiswasa setback for me. I had lost my chance to end the war and I might have lost Taroc too. I located him on my right, standing over a pile of wriggling corpses. He met my stare, narrowed his eyes, and returned to his work.
Yeah, I was an asshole. He had stuck with me without me knowing it, guarding my back and then my front when I was weakened. He had attacked the Corrupter alone for me. No magic boosting him, no Lords beside him. He had known full well that he couldn't use his greatest weapon—his dragon. Taroc had proven himself. His . . . was it love? I didn't know. I hadn't given him the chance to tell me. Instead, I told Taroc I didn't want him. Right afterward. Not those exact words, but I'd made it clear enough.
Fuck.
“General Rontor,” the Emperor called as he strode down the stage steps.
The Emperor looked no worse for getting tossed around by the Corrupter. But he looked less in my eyes. I guess I had thought that he was more powerful than that. That he could at least withstand a single blow. But of course, he couldn't. If he could, he wouldn't have needed me. There would be no war. Still, my hero had been knocked off his pedestal. Literally.
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” Rontor hurried over.
“You and Ember's team will attend me.” He waved at us, then at his soldiers. “Take the carriage back to the palace.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!” one of his soldiers shouted.
They weren't Wraith Lords so they couldn't fade. It had been damn brave of them to attend the Emperor and defend him against the Corrupter. But then again, they'd had no choice, had they? Just like me. Except with less magic.
“Do you need me to fade you there?” Rath whispered to me.
“No, I'll be all right,” I mumbled and then faded.
In seconds, I was away from the battlefield, if you could call it that. I arrived in the Emperor's antechamber—his massive waiting room of marble and murals. Drained of emotion and energy, I stepped closer to the wall to get out of the way of the next arrival even though the room was massive. As my men appeared with the Emperor and General Rontor, I stared at a mural of a peaceful countryside. Tusara had kind of looked like that before we'd made a mess of it. I hoped the Emperor would clean things up before he sent the farmers back.
“Come with me,” the Emperor said crisply and shoved open the doors to his apartments.
A cry came from deep within the palace, down the hallway the Emperor strode. Then the sound of running feet.
Out of breath, Agal came around a corner and bowed. “Your Imperial Majesty, how may I serve?”
“Refreshments for my guests and me, Agal,” the Emperor said. “We'll be in my study.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!” Agal rushed off.
I trudged after the imposing form of the Emperor that no longer seemed so imposing. Was this what being jaded meant? Or was I depressed? What word described me at that moment? I didn't think one would do it. Maybe not even two. I needed an army of words to express the depth of sorrow, weariness, and regret I felt.
I don't remember walking into the Emperor's study. Suddenly, I was standing before a green velvet couch, atop a thick rug, staring at a fire. It crackled merrily. Someone had lit it just in case the Emperor returned. In my leather armor, it was too hot. I turned away from it, went to the table to the left of the couch, and sat down there.
“Yes, you're right,” the Emperor murmured as he joined me at the table. “This is too serious a discussion for comfortable chairs.”
I stared at him. Laid over him was an image of Aranren, and laid over Aranren was the skeleton of Death Magic. I hated Aranren, but I also pitied him. It was an odd feeling. I should tell them about what I saw, but looking at the Emperor, I had a feeling he already knew. Besides, I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to talk at all.
