Chapter 16 : Beneath The Emperor's Gaze
562 Words
The training grounds were eerily silent, the night air thick with the scent of damp earth and metal. Torches flickered along the perimeter, their golden glow casting long shadows across the stone floor. The remnants of battle still clung to the space—the shattered ground where lightning had struck, the lingering charge of Lithor’s power in the air.
Devorah came down to her knees bowing down to the Emperor, her sword now sheathed but still humming faintly at her side. Emperor Maric stood before her, his presence vast despite the stillness of his frame. He watched her with calculating eyes, the silver in them catching the firelight in an unsettling way.
“Stand,” he ordered.
She rose smoothly, her posture composed despite the tension still coiled in her muscles. Maric’s gaze drifted to Varian, who was still on one knee, catching his breath. A single flick of his fingers dismissed the commander, and without hesitation, Varian bowed and retreated into the darkness.
Silence stretched between them. Devorah didn’t fidget, didn’t shift—she simply waited, aware that Maric was the kind of man who spoke only when it suited him.
Finally, he exhaled, a sound almost amused. “You fight like someone who has nothing to lose.”
Devorah tilted her head slightly. “Or someone who intends to win.”
Maric let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and knowing. He took a step closer, his gaze sharp. “Sean speaks highly of you.”
She didn’t respond. She knew better than to interrupt a man like him.
“He is not easily impressed,” Maric continued. “Nor am I.”
Devorah inclined her head. “Then I am honored.”
Maric studied her, his gaze trailing over her stance, the stillness of her expression, the controlled breath in her chest. Then, slowly, he turned away, glancing at the night sky. “You are different from the others here. They bow too easily. Flatter too quickly.” His tone dipped lower, thoughtful. “But not you.”
She didn’t speak, letting the words settle.
“I trust my son’s instincts,” Maric finally said, his back still turned to her. “But I do not trust blindly.” His fingers traced the hilt of his own sword. “Tell me, Devorah—why are you here?”
A test. Carefully woven into a simple question.
She met his gaze when he turned back to her. “To serve the Dominion.”
Maric exhaled softly, as if entertained by the answer. “Good.” He stepped past her, the scent of aged leather and steel lingering in the air as he moved. “Sean will require someone at his side. I expect you to be that person.”
Devorah felt the weight of those words, of the command wrapped in an expectation. She bowed her head slightly. “As you command, Your Majesty.”
Maric’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he chuckled once more, quieter this time. “You are an interesting one.”
With that, he strode away, disappearing into the darkness of the night, leaving only the crackle of the torches and the quiet hum of tension behind him.
Devorah let out a slow breath.
The game had just changed. And she would have to be sharper than ever to survive it.
- Writer
