The Obsidian Pillar

Chapter Forty-five

Darling,

As much as your letter warmed my heart, I regret
to inform you that these shall be my last words to you.
I've longed to see you, to be with you, but I can only
come to the conclusion that all this time you have
been using me. You will never know how much that breaks
my heart, but take solace in the knowledge that I will never
reveal your identity. He would banish you all, then.
I have been shaken into maturity, or so Balfour suggests.
My last gift to you is a warning. Balfour has declared war upon
Vakaaria at last. His army is grouping in the capital before it
begins its march on Castle Vakaar. If we lose the war, then you
will all be at risk. I ask, not on Balfour's behalf, but on my own,
and for the sake of my child, that you will all contribute to the
war in ways that only your kind can.
Until the next life, where I pray we may meet again, my love,
G.

I scrunched the parchment in my palm as anger flooded through me. I had thought that the crow had been bringing messages of war or the welfare of the other sorcerers that were undoubtedly living in hiding from the decree. Not a love letter from the Queen of Kralken herself.

I paced the length of my room in four steps before retreating in the opposite direction, hoping to burn away my unwarranted fury. After all, it was no concern of mine who Waincroft liaised with, but I had to admit that I was disappointed in him. He was handsome, clever and, no doubt, powerful. He could have any woman he wanted. Why chase the queen, and wife, of the man who was offering tenuous sanctuary to all sorcerers? Was he insane?

I left the note on the bedside table and opened my wardrobe to find a new dress within. I sighed, tearing it from the hanger to, reluctantly, appraise its delicate beauty. It was a deep shade of violet and made from fine gossamer, with only a thin undergarment to hide my modesty. The dress came up to the base of my neck and covered the length of my arms until it trailed into loose, gauzy sleeves at the wrists. The violet material trailed to the floor, but a long slit had been cut into the side of the skirt, snaking up to my hip, revealing my bare leg. I raised an eyebrow. The gown was both modest and daring at once.

I could be a mixture of the two, depending on my mood.

It reminded me of the obsidian pillar when he had bedecked it with hanging sheets of the same material. I knew that he had read my thoughts to find the perfect fabric. Everything he had brought to the pillar was to please me. Of course, I hadn't revealed how impressed, or touched, I had been. Although, he most likely knew it anyway.

I slipped into the dress with minutes to spare before his swift knock sounded from the other side of the door. I took a deep breath, feeling the vibrations flutter around me, as they always did whenever Waincroft was near. I raised my hand and flicked my wrist, urging the air to pull the door open.

It didn't.

I marched over, still barefooted, and yanked the handle.

'Valla,' His eyes flickered, assessing the dress before he pushed past me territorially. 'Is the dress to your liking?'

'What's the slit for? Couldn't you channel enough magic to finish it off?' I pulled at the fabric, revealing my bare leg. His face was trained into the cool indifference that I was becoming so accustomed to seeing.