Page 30 of Witchshadow

“So Lev spies on me too.”

“It isn’t spying,” he countered, a bit too sharply. A bit too loud. He cleared his throat. “She… cares for you. We all do, Your ImperialMajesty. Becoming a Hell-Bard doesn’t only sever magic. It severs our lives, our minds, our souls. You aren’t alone, Safi.”

Safi.It was nice to hear her name again, though it was also a reminder of just how alone she truly was. “I am surrounded by no one I can trust, Caden. Except Lev. And I have no idea where in all the Witchlands my Threadsister might be.” She chewed her lip. Her words sounded whiny. Pathetic. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop them. “I’m forced to do whatever the Emperor desires because if I don’t, he hurts you.Allof you.”

Caden’s frown deepened. For several moments, he said nothing, as if he was thinking through every sentence, every word, every pause. Ahead, massive doors into the old palace were whispering wide, opened by waiting servants. The Hell-Bards did not break formation as they marched purposefully through, Safi and Caden still tucked within their ranks.

At a broad staircase, however, the Hell-Bards finally slowed to a stop—forcing Safi and Caden to stop as well. Then they separated into lines along the entryway’s walls while a new set of Hell-Bards descended the steps, Lev at the fore.

Caden turned to Safi, his posture stiff and military as he popped a bow. “Your Imperial Majesty, remember what I told you.” With a stiff flick of his hand, he motioned to his neck, to where his noose rested beneath layers of armor and padding. “You are not the only dead woman here, and we protect our own.” Then he lifted his voice—just loud enough for the nearby Hell-Bards to hear. “Toward death with wide eyes,” he said, quoting their motto.

As one, they replied, “All clear, all clear.”

Gooseflesh crawled down Safi’s skin. Her throat swelled. For though she had heard the Hell-Bard motto before, she’d never had it directed at her. She had never had itincludeher.

She was one of them now. A Hell-Bard.All clear, all clear.

Safi turned away from Caden then and allowed Lev and the others to clack into formation around her. It was time, once more, to enter the palace and take up her mantle at the Emperor’s side.

TWELVE

When Vivia awoke, it was to find the sun rising and the world silent. No drumbeats, no winds, no cannons firing. Just a ship’s familiar creaking, wood and ropes and sail all moving in tandem.

Swallowing, she eased upright. She was in her bed, fully clothed, and—

“Finally.” Vaness’s voice slid across her, and on a stool beside the cot sat the Empress, arms folded. Face and clothes still bloodied. “You have been out a long time. Does this usually happen?”

“No.” Vivia frowned and finished rising. She ached, but in an old way. Ancient as the water that had briefly consumed her. It would pass in a few hours. “I’m not sure I’ve ever tapped into that sort of power before.”

Vaness sniffed.

And Vivia had to fight the urge to point out all the blood caked across her imperial chin. Never had she seen the Empress so filthy. Never had she imagined it possible. And most amazing of all, Vaness didn’t seem to care.

The Empress stood, a slight wobble to her carriage—she was no sailor—and approached the bed. She stopped only when her thighs hit the edge. Then she glowered down, fury in every piece of her, and though Vivia couldn’t see the iron bracelets, she had no doubt they skated and spun.

“Never,” Vaness said softly, “do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Command me without warning. Command me without consent.”

Vivia sighed and leaned back against the cabin wall. She had no headrest because the wood was better used elsewhere; she had no elegant covers either. Cotton suited her just fine.

She ran a hand through her hair, still slightly damp. “You are on my ship, Your Imperial Majesty. I am captain here, which means my word is law. You know that. We’ve been over that, and youclaimedyou understood.”

“That was before you ordered me to run the cannons. Never”—she wagged a finger at Vivia—“do that again.”

Vivia didn’t answer. A flicker of anger spread up her spine. “We wouldhave died if you hadn’t stopped those cannons. We almostdiddie, even with your magic.”

“And I should have let that iron go all the way through.” She kept her finger stretched long in Vivia’s face. “I should have let it crash to the ocean and watched as we all sank and your Hagfishes claimed us—”

Vivia grabbed the finger. Her lips curled back. “All because you want to prove a point?” She swung her legs out of the bed, covers sliding off her. Still she gripped Vaness’s finger, even when she stood. Even when the room spun and she glared down at the smaller woman. “You would have damned us all just because you did not want to obey?”

A long breath slid by. Then a second and a third before Vaness finally spoke. “I am not your sailor, I am not your soldier. I am the Empress of Marstok, and I will never fire a cannon again.”

She yanked her finger free, and though Vivia could have held on, she saw no reason to. Vaness could win this one. But if the Iron Bitch thought she could be on board without using her magic to fight, then she was sorely mistaken. Every sailor did their part here, even royalty. Especially royalty.

It wasn’t until hours later, as Vivia oversaw repairs to theIris’s main deck, that she remembered all the blood. Vaness had almost passed out. In fact, she’d almost lost control entirely… So maybe it was not mere insubordination that made her so angry, so vicious.