Smoke and Shadow: The Fireweaver, Book 1

Chapter 24. THE SILENT TREE

The Fight had left Dimarrah in a silent shock. And perhaps the Rejkav officials had misread the crowd. There were plenty in the crowd hungry for more, but there were a few like Dimarrah, who had gone very quiet and pale-faced. The stage had been quickly replaced with musicians.

 Rhoke gave a small bow in the Empress' direction.

"A pleasure, your Majesty," he said, with aplomb and composure Dimarrah did not feel she could muster at the moment. To Neegan he gave a respectful, curt nod, "Good to see you again, my friend," and led Dimarrah away before she lost control. It was a relief to be away from the crowded ballroom with its incessant smells of meat, the whirlwind of people. The penetrating gaze of the Empress.

But then she felt the shame like acid pool in the pit of her stomach. To not have said anything. To not have spoken in that man's defense. To have felt her own blood boiling and not raise her voice about any of it. But what could she do?

"You couldn't have done a damn thing," Rhoke said, leading her further down the corridor.

"I could have."

"And you would've gotten yourself up there. And I would've made a scene."

"You seem to do that anyway," she said, but he steadied a gaze on her.

"Tonight's not the night for an uprising."

She hated to admit he was right. If you're going to start a rebellion, you make sure it falls on fertile ground. A hall full of Rejkav elites was most definitely not fertile grounds for change.

She had to stay focused on what she was really there for. Finding her daughter. To find any answers at all. She remembered that slightest twinge of searching she'd felt from the Empress. It was such a blink of a feeling that she'd forgotten to tell Rhoke about it.

"I should have told you something earlier." Their footsteps clicked down the iridescent corridor, lit at intervals by floating orbs. 

"I don't like the sound of that."

She spoke in low tones because they were not the only ones wandering the corridors leading to the domes. "I felt it. From her."

"Felt what from who?"

"The Empress," she hissed. "I felt her search my mind. Like you do. Like you did at first."

Rhoke stopped so hard and fast that his boot squeaked on the polished floors, causing another couple to almost collide into them, both of whom hurried off with matching backward scowls.

He gripped her arm. "Are you very sure?"

"Not at all. I closed myself off as soon as I felt it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" His tone was deadly calm. She might have preferred nostrils flaring and yelling to his dangerously, precisely controlled fury. Or fear? His eyes darted about. Dimarrah felt quite livid herself.

"I didn't tell you because I was too busy telling—" she looked around and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper "—telling lies and trying to remember what to say and what not to say. In front of the Empress, no less. Damn you. We are fools for thinking this was a good idea." 

A few people were turning toward them, first with innocuous curiosity, then with displeasure that their evenings were being soured by such drama. There was one woman with a face of growing alarm. If they were slightly out of place before, they surely were now.

"Not another word," he said to her, but she shrugged his arm off. 

"Oh, but I have so many words for you."