Page 21 of Burning Her Beautiful
Ripples of surprise. A commander hides smirk behind gauntlet.
Sarivya’s eyes flash, but she inclines head. “Curiosity drew me close, yes. But curiosity does not sanction risk. I request that the human be examined by Inscriptorum to verify she bears no uncontrolled gift that might threaten us.”
Murmurs swell louder. Velyth lifts gavel, strikes once. “Dominus Varok, response?”
I meet Sarivya’s gaze, let silver flare in my eyes until reflection dances across her corneas. “Iliana performs only under my direction. Her hum cannot shape power withoutmy channel. Should the council doubt, they may witness demonstration.”
“Dangerous gambit,” Velyth murmurs.
“Necessary,” I counter. “At sundown, I will bind my own abilities and permit Iliana to hum alone. If vines stir, I submit her to Inscriptorum. If nothing happens, the council retracts its petition.”
Gasps. Even Sarivya cannot hide flicker of unease. She expected denial, not challenge. Chancellor Velyth studies me, then nods slowly. “Agreement accepted.”
Hammer falls. Session adjourned. Nobles rise in clumps, whisper storms swirling. Sarivya glides to me, mask of courtesy cracking at edge.
“Bold tactic,” she says under breath. “What if she sings and power answers?”
“Then I will watch.” I lean close, lips near her ear so only she hears. “But understand this: if you push Iliana toward harm, lilies will bloom from your tongue the moment you lie asleep.”
She blanches, straightens, composes smile. “We shall see which flowers sprout.” She sweeps away, gown whispering threats.
I exhale. My heart thumps hard, not from fear, but rage at the box I’ve built. Sunrise test could expose everything. I gambled because corner left no room—better to direct spotlight than flee it. Yet doubt gnaws.
Garrik approaches. “Are you mad?” he whispers.
“Possibly,” I mutter. But inside, a plan buds. If I temper resonance stones, maybe hum alone indeed stirs nothing. I must sabotage my own matrix.
The vaulted hallway outside the chamber rings with footsteps. I stride toward western wing where vault labs sit, rewriting glyph arrays in head. At crossing I collide with Velyth. The chancellor blocks path, eyes sharp as scalpel.
“You escalate tension needlessly,” he warns. “The king enjoys spectacle but abhors chaos he cannot command.”
I bow fractionally. “My loyalty remains absolute.”
“Does it?” Velyth’s gaze cools. “Word travels. Slaves claim your nights are spent in mortal’s chambers.”
Ice knifes spine. “Unfounded gossip.”
“Perhaps. Yet perception guides daggers.” He hands folded parchment. “Kyreth’s spies tracked Sarivya purchasing nightshade from surface smugglers. She will move soon.”
I flick seal, scan intel. “Thank you.”
“Protecting Galmoleth protects all of us.” Velyth’s thin lips curved faintly. “Even human attachments have their use.”
He strides off before I answer. I pocket parchment, mind racing—nightshade, a poison that slows heartbeats beyond detection, perfect for framing weakened magic.
Midday storms rumble distant when I finally return to tower. Iliana waits in library, hair still braided from training, wearing ash-gray tunic belted with bronze clasp. She stands before a chalk board scribbled chalk runes—my own earlier equations, now annotated. Sharp mind, quicker than lightning.
She faces me, reading weight in posture. “Council?”
“They demand you hum tonight, unaided, to prove you pose no threat.”
Her throat works. “And if vines move?”
“They will not.” I stride to desk, unroll blueprint of resonance matrix. “I will sever pathways beforehand.”
She scans lines. “You risk exposing sabotage.”
“I will hide it inside complexity.”
