much about you and is curious. He likes to know which students the Lyceum particularly prizes. He would like to see you for himself and express his sympathy for your teacher’s death. Also, a word of advice: You shouldn’t ask questions like that.” Simon closed his book and fixed her with a cold stare. “It makes you sound like a child, not a killer.”
From inside Corien’s study came the explosive sound of shattering glass.
Jessamyn flew to her feet, reaching for the dagger at her hip.
The Emperor’s black-eyed secretary jumped in his chair, and even Simon, who was used to such things, had to blink to adjust his vision, for the secretary’s body shifted and blurred, a dark aura forming about his skin.
He bolted out of his chair. He clutched his neck, his chest and arms, and let out a strangled cry before staggering out of the receiving room and into the corridor. Slightly disgusted, Simon watched him go. It wasn’t the first time a small disruption had shaken this particular secretary. He was a strong enough angel to hold on to a human body for a time, but not strong enough to keep that hold if something distracted him. His grasp of the empirium was tenuous.
As it was for all but the strongest angels, since the Fall of the Blood Queen.
“Follow him,” Simon ordered the waiting attendants. “He’s losing cohesion.”
They obeyed at once. He and Jessamyn were alone.
“A severance?” she said quietly after a moment. “Just from being startled?”
Simon briskly rearranged the secretary’s abandoned papers. “He’s young. I’ve seen worse.”
“It isn’t fair.” Jessamyn faced Simon, her jaw square and her eyes bright. “They should not have to live like this, scrabbling from body to body. They are God’s chosen. They deserve better—”
The study doors swung open.
The Emperor stood there, leaning hard against the door. His white shirt—sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hem untucked—was soaked with blood.
He fixed his eyes on Simon. They glittered as if cut from black glass.
As ever, when Corien’s eyes fell upon him, Simon felt a sharp chill. It was the delight that came from being sought out again and again as the Emperor’s most trusted, his most beloved.
It was the creeping terror that Simon would, after everything they had worked for, continue to fail him.
“They wouldn’t shut their fucking mouths about the cruciata,” Corien spat. “I’ve kept them at bay for decades now, for centuries, and I’ll keep them at bay for decades more if I have to. But I won’t have to.”
Simon peered past Corien into the study and caught a glimpse of the carnage. Streaks of blood painted the walls and rugs. Maimed bodies in torn black uniforms scattered the floor like debris. Simon recognized the bodies as those belonging to three angelic generals. Only yesterday, the generals had been charged with relieving others currently stationed at the northern front, the Empire’s first line of defense against anything that came through the Gate.
Now, the generals’ bodies lay ruined on the floor.
And judging by the look on Corien’s face, the angels themselves had not survived the meeting either.
Simon chose his next words carefully. Not even he was immune to the Emperor’s wrath in moments such as this.
“Your Excellency,” he said, “this is the Invictus trainee, Jessamyn, who was at the battle in Festival—”
Don’t tell me things I already know, said Corien with such furious force that pain shot through Simon’s skull like a knife. It required all his strength to remain standing and to resist apologizing. Few things infuriated Corien more than apologies.
Instead, Simon bore the agony and watched Corien’s gaze shift to Jessamyn.
“Three of my generals have been insisting that our defenses against the cruciata are insufficient and that soon we will be overrun,” Corien began, his voice now eerily calm. “I got inside their craven minds and killed them, and then I hacked their chosen bodies to pieces.” He gestured grandly at himself. “Hence the mess. Tell me, Jessamyn, what do you think about this?”
For a moment, Jessamyn could only stare. Then she sank to her knees and bowed her head. Her hands trembled against the floor.
“Your Excellency, your generals were foolish to doubt you,” she said.
“But they’re not entirely wrong, are they?” Corien knelt before her. “Look up. I want to see you. That’s better. They’re not entirely wrong, my generals. More and more cruciata have been worming their way through the Gate. We manage to kill some. Others get away.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” Jessamyn managed. “That’s true.”