Page 157 of Burn Her They Said
The Queen stares intently, the only movement from her chest rising and falling.
“His Imperial Highness recognized the service I could provide to our Empire and determined it was necessary that I receive one-on-one training,” I say, reaching for my tea in order to stall, savoring the flavor with a long sip before returning it to the saucer, only to clasp my hands in my lap.
“I assume you were defending someone,” the Queen says, reading my life like the pages of a well-loved book.
My heart jolts. “My first year mentor was furious with another student for failing to complete an assignment. I argued that she should be given time. We had just begun school. It was all so new to us. Yet when she raised her hand to strike me, my magic sensed she was filled with rage and fury. So I siphoned it and imbued her with curiosity and forgiveness.” My vision has grown hazy, because I’m no longer me—or not currently.
Six-year-old me has emerged to tell her story.
“That is quite impressive for a witch so young,” she says, and a small flush creeps along my cheekbones. “What I can’t understand is the need to remove you from the school, nor have you explained when you began to serve him in your role, assuming it was happening before your public vow.”
“Almost immediately,” I admit. “He required my presence in meetings, dinners, and court throughout my childhood, making it seem as if I were his prodigy, or as some like to call me, his ‘pet’.”
Varic’s guilt at having said something similar rolls to me through the connection I hold with my magic. So I send him a thread of forgiveness and explain, “No one suspected such a small body could contain magic powerful enough to silence thousands of Imperial citizens, nor calm a room full of irate Generals. Not until he announced my appointment to the role I now serve within.”
“I assume you trained with other students in the Palace,” she says, and I shake my head. “Did your parents live with you?” I offer her a duplicate response.
“Excluding your Imperial Guards, do you have any close connection with any other witches or sorcerers?”
I worry my lower lip and wish not to respond.
“He wants you to himself,” she says under her breath. “He’s isolated you completely.”
Her gaze shifts to Varic. “How do you stand by and allow this?”
“Oh, they don’t—” I try to interject.
“Shh. I want to hear his response.”
“We serve the—” Varic begins.
“Oh! Don’t give me that,” she scoffs. “The real reason.”
Varic flicks his gaze to mine, while we decide how much to divulge. Yet, their reason isn’t a secret—not really. We may as well say it to placate another entitled leader.
“We are given no option, Your Royal Highness,” Varic says, as if reading my mind.
“Everyone has a choice.” So easy for her to claim as the most powerful ruler of this land.
“I think what Varic means is we serve to prevent harm to those more vulnerable than ourselves,” I offer, hoping it’s enough as her eyes shift back to mine.
“Of course, he has you under his thumb by threatening those you care for. I presume his preoccupation with living forever has something to do with his need to possess you and your power.” I stare back, hoping my face hasn’t given anything away. “Then there’s the deplorable experiments he has your Philosopher conducting in a desperate bid to obtain more power through intimidation.”
I stare at the ground, having been unaware that this information ever left our stone walls.
“You seem surprised.” She leans forward. “Though I assume you are well-acquainted with how loose your Emperor’s lips can be when inebriated. Did you think he was any less boastful in his younger years? When he traveled the Continent and bragged of his Imperial Grand Philosopher and all he would bring to his glorious Empire?”
She takes another sip of tea before asking, “Are you truly here to investigate the origin of the attacks? Or are you trying to get your hands on our spell books?”
Blood drains from my upper body. “I—I do not know, Your Royal Highness.”
She nods. “I had a feeling he would keep you in the dark regarding his true intentions.”
“Why did you allow us to come, when all you had to do was ward us from crossing your border?”
Her expression shifts to one of playful amusement.
“You wanted us here,” I say, mostly to myself.
