Where my father waited.
Chapter 5
“Mila, what in the world are you doing here—High Priestess?” My father stood, the scrape of his chair against the tiled floor drawing the attention of the senators and aides alike. And, eyes threatening to burst from his head and set me ablaze right there in the middle of the chamber room, my father’s jaw snapped shut. Pulse pounding above his collarbone. Fists clenched.
“Ah. SenatorTannovic.” The High Priestess cast an icy glare across the room, sizing my father up before I could utter a word of apology. “Just the man I was hoping to see. I apologize for the delay,” she continued, addressing the rest of the Senate. “I came across a situation in the market that required my immediate intervention.”
My father’s pale skin blanched, but he gestured for her to take a seat at the head of the table. Avoiding my eye. “In the market, you say?”
A tall man at my father’s side cleared his throat. “I hope nothing is out of sorts? Wouldn’t want to give the Caledonians cause to revoke their trade deals on the eve of signing, would we?”
Propelling me toward the far end of the table, where the second Priestess from the alley stood beside a plush chair, the High Priestess sighed. “No need to worry, Mister Prime Minister. I have everything quite in hand, though I’ll be having a word with Senator Tannovic after this farce of a meeting.”
Dabbing at his forehead, my father pinned me withthe look, then tucked his handkerchief into his breast pocket. “Of course, Mistress.”
“Your Grace,please,” the prime minister said, spreading his fingers on the desk before him. “Don’t start this again. Trade with Caledonia is good for Tritan’s economy. They are here to offer peaceful terms—”
“Indeed,” the High Priestess replied, taking her seat and wrapping her ki around me as she continued to address the men and women of the Tritan Senate. “And yet, these so-called peaceful terms come with a full royal battalion. I can’t imagine why.”
My father cleared his throat, though when he tried to speak, his voice crackled. “It’s a”—he coughed—“battalion in name only, I’m told. They’re officers in an honor guard. Not soldiers and not a functioning military unit.”
“There, you see?” the prime minister said, shuffling a stack of papers, eyes downcast. “A perfectly reasonable explanation. No need to judge them before they’ve even arrived. But I seeyou’vefelt it prudent to bring a pair of Priestesses along,” he said, lacing his fingers atop the desk as he looked to me and the other woman from the alley. “I thought we agreednotto bother with a show of force?”
The High Priestess flicked her wrist at me, shaking her head. “The girl has shown some surprising, completely unexpected aptitude, though I wouldn’t go so far as to call her Priestess, Mister Prime Minister. I merely thought she’d enjoy learning the ins and outs of a political arena. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to convince her to attend in my stead,” she concluded, to the chuckles of several senators—save one.
My father’s knuckles threatened to split at the seams, the veins in his forehead pulsing with ire, thoughstill, he wouldn’t look at me.
But something in my chest pulsed, tugging my attention toward the door opposite to the one we’d come through, drowning out the squabbling of my elders and the twisty, awful feeling writhing in my stomach. In spite of the High Priestess’ aid, I turned, drawn to what approached from the hall beyond. Ki—it could be nothing else. But…
I swallowed, taking a half-step toward a tsunami so bright, so vibrant, all I could do was stare with sightless eyes as it rushed toward us.
Jerking me back, the High Priestess redoubled her effort to tether me. Manufactured serenity coursed through my veins, urging me toward peace though her fingers had sunk into the meat of my forearm. “It seems our guests will be here in a moment,” she said, regardless of the crease between her brows and the unseen battle of wills. “If anyone would like to spare themselves this drudgery, now is the time.”
“Honestly, Your Grace,” the prime minister snapped, but was interrupted by a firm, three-tiered knock.
As one, the Tritan Senate stood, all eyes turned toward the door I couldn’t look away from.
Several tall brawny men with dark hair and golden skin filed into the room, each dressed in identical crisp uniforms of Imperial black and gold. Dark eyes restless in stoic faces. They took no notice of the seating prepared for the dignitaries and made no effort to introduce themselves. Upon each of their hips, concealed beneath the lapels of formal jackets, were instruments containing the Glaith. I could feel it, could sense the ki stored within as if it were attached to six tiny blazing suns.
Sweat trickled down the back of my neck, agitating the fine hairs standing on end as I stood there, torn.
These men were Blood, each and every one. Six Caledonian Elites, to be precise, all standing much too close, regardless of the High Priestess’ efforts to restrain me. It would take five, maybe six steps to close the distance… Less to taste their ki firsthand and compare it to the betrayer’s leavings still festering behind my ribs. Whispering of impossible things.
I expelled a shaky breath, reaching for the pendant that wasn’t there, then latched onto the High Priestess’ light, refreshing ki to try to lose myself in the might oftruepower. To forget the sting of deception and everything that had come before it.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Tritan,” said a tall, thin Caledonian man. “It is my profound honor to announce the council members of the Caledonian Empire and the imperial guard.” The herald straightened his jacket, inclining his head as the first imperial stepped through the door. “I give you the esteemed Unus Gladius, Master Curator to Emperor Octus Clavius, the first and youngest Elite Emperor in thirteen generations. The Master Curator speaks with the full authority of his imperial sibling, and as such, his word carries the weight of the Empire itself.”
He was of middle age, this Caledonian Curator. Wisps of gray winged back from his temples, fine lines marking a distinguished face—handsome, but as far as I could tell,notof the Blood.
One of the imperial guards stepped forward, readying a chair directly opposite the prime minister before the herald spoke again.
“General Harper Tilcot, Elite commander of the Northern wing of the Caledonian Armed Forces.”
I shivered. Elite. And this one oozing a smug surety that had me turning away with fists clenched. At once trying to refresh my palate, and reaching for the Glaith that wasn’t there. Rubbing my breastbone raw and warm.
Oblivious, the herald continued. “Lieutenant General Killion Hastings, second in command of the Northern forces.”
The High Priestess squeezed my wrist and caught my eye, filling her lungs with a deep, slow breath. Nodding when I did the same—but it was of no use.
