What started as a trickle became a cascade of voices that threw their support behind Vanya’s House that left no room for doubt as to Joelle’s guilt. He’d been given Callisto’s blessing, after all, and Joelle had committed the ultimate betrayal. It was one thing to scheme and murder to gain the Imperial throne; quite another to ally one’s House with a foreign nation.
In the end, the Houses—passionately or reluctantly—gave their loyalty to the House of Sa’Liandel over the House of Kimathi. Even Vesper stood to bite out the thinnest of support, as did the other Houses that had sided with Joelle during the Conclave. Their vote for the blood feud on behalf of the nation was merely a way to save face and ensure their Houses continued to exist. Their agreement did not equate to support, and Vanya made note of the Houses he would need to keep an eye on.
When the last House finished voting to align themselves with his, Vanya focused his attention on the senator who represented the House of Kimathi’svasilyet. “Your services are no longer needed.”
The man sputtered in outrage that turned to cries of protest as twopraetorialegionnaires stepped forward to haul him away from the desk. “I have a right to represent ourvasilyet’s people!”
“You have what rights I give you, which are none.”
He watched as the former senator was hauled out of the chambers, decrying the manhandling and shouting for support that never came. The doors closed behind them with a heavy thud.
“All hail the Imperial emperor,” Taisiya said from behind him in their House’s section, her damaged voice easy enough to hear in the tense quiet.
Houses and senators alike echoed her words. Vanya raised his chin, gaze sweeping over those gathered as he addressed them once more. “I am formally closing the northern border and calling up the Legion to guard it. We’ll take back the House of Kimathi’svasilyetto ensure our nation’s security. Daijal is at war with Ashion and the wardens. If it’s a war they want with Solaria, then it is a war their queen shall have.”
Senators pounded their fists on their desks, a steady beat beneath the roar of approval that came from the Senate and most of the Houses. Vanya let the noise of it all wash over him as he turned to look up at where hisvalidesat alone in the mezzanine.
Soren was gone.
Five
BLAINE
He came to slowly, the world indistinct sound in his ears, as if he were hearing underwater. His body felt weighted down, a muffled sense of ownership making it difficult for Blaine to process anything. He let out a wordless sound, the vibrations shredding his dry throat.
“Blaine.”
His name came from far away, pushing through the cottony feeling in his head that threatened to pull him back under. The haziness in his thoughts didn’t make sense, but Blaine knew that voice. He’d dreamed of it through the feverish time spent as a prisoner of the Daijalans, wishing it were real. He flexed his toes, felt something warm slide over the fingers of his right hand. A gentle touch trailed down his cheek, resting against his jaw.
“Blaine, can you hear me?”
He wanted to fall back into that liquid sleep flowing through his veins, but that voice called to him in a way he didn’t—couldn’t—ignore. It took a great effort to remember he had eyes, that the Daijalans hadn’t taken that, even if the magician and Blade had forcibly taken his memories. Blaine flinched against the hand resting against his skin, thoughts skittering away from his time in that dark, cold room, so far from the vastness of the sky.
It took a monumental effort to crack open his eyes, the world a blurry mess of shapes in dim lighting. He blinked slowly—once, twice—trying to resolve the shadows into something familiar.
“’Novi?” Blaine croaked out.
His husband didn’t seem real, not even when Honovi bent over him and pressed their foreheads together, something warm dripping onto his cheeks. “You’re awake.”
Blaine closed his eyes, breathing slowly, trying to push through the fog of his mind. He could barely feel Honovi’s fingers curled around his right hand and nothing at all of his left. He tried to lift his left hand to grab at Honovi’s braid, but his arm didn’t obey him. His shoulder moved, and a distant sort of pain snapped into his ribs, his spine, making him choke on a whimper, but he couldn’t feel it in his fingertips.
Because he didn’t have any.
The thought pierced through everything like a bullet. Blaine pressed the stump of his left arm against the bed and choked on the dull throbbing agony that he couldn’t feel in the space where his arm used to be.
Honovi’s hands framed his face, turning his head to the side so he couldn’t look at what he’d lost. “Shh, it’s all right. You’re safe now. You’re home.”
Blaine forced his eyes open, staring up at Honovi’s face, still blurry, but this time because of the tears he couldn’t stop. They slid down his cheeks, and Honovi gently brushed them away. “My arm?”
It seemed like a dream, but Honovi nodded, lifting a hand to smooth Blaine’s hair off his forehead. “We tracked you to Foxborough and fought to get you back. You’d…they’d already cut off your arm halfway up your forearm, but it became infected. The doctors here had to amputate more to stave off gangrene. But you’re awake now, and that’s good.”
“What happened?” Because he had no memory after the magician had peeled open his mind like a tin of food, digging about in ways that made Blaine want to hyperventilate, but he couldn’t find the wherewithal to do so.
“Later. I’ll tell you later, when you’re better.”
“Can’t be better with only one arm. Can’tfly.”
Honovi’s smile became watery, but he didn’t pull away. “You’ll fly again, with one arm or two. How you are now doesn’t make you any less of a person. Just because you lost part of your arm doesn’t mean you lost who you are. You’re still the man I love, with or without a mechanical prosthetic. You’re clan and you’re crew and you’remine.”
