by E. C. Jarvis
Larissa swallowed the lump yet again. The flame in her hand let off far less heat than the burning eyes of all the people in attendance. She felt her neck flush, and her free hand twitched up to where her necklace had once been. She found only skin beneath her fingers.
“Cid Mendle saved my life,” she began. “He saved the lives of many people with his actions. Although, if you dared praise him for it, he would probably grunt a dismissal and swear at you.”
A few muffled laughs came from somewhere behind. She wasn’t sure who had found it funny, but her own memories of Cid’s surly humour brought a small smile to her face. That smile didn’t last long when she realised just how much she would miss him.
“He hated my cat. Imago. In the beginning. He hated me too. At least, that was what I thought. In reality, he was the kindest and smartest man I have ever met. In all the things that have happened since this crazy journey began, if I could change only one thing, it would be this.”
As the flaming torch set light to the kindling at the base of the pyre, she completed her farewell to Cid, and to Imago, in silence. She didn’t dare mention the fact that her beloved cat had perished as well, not when the Empress was present. It might prove useful for the Empress to still believe that Larissa was a Rifar, in control of a powerful Rifarin.
The flames burned away the carefully constructed layers of wood. The smoke billowed into the air, mixing with the smoggy atmosphere. The goggles turned to ash along with the wood, and slowly, one by one, people moved away from the pyre, gathering together at a respectable distance to begin muted conversations.
Larissa moved to stand beside Holt. He stared down at her, a dark glint of seriousness in his eyes.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You need to take command of the discussion before it descends any further. Bad words said here could lead to war.” He nodded in the direction of the group nearby. The Empress was discussing something with General Gott, a man Larissa knew virtually nothing about. From the way the General’s face was turning beetroot red, the conversation was not going well.
“What do you think I can do or say to fix it?”
“Be yourself. That’s usually enough. This is what will be required of you if you get voted in.”
“I still think that’s highly unlikely. I’m surprised they even accepted my name on the ballot.”
“Either way, the current situation needs intervention.”
With a sigh, she left Elena alone with the dying flames.
A flush of heat which had nothing to do with the fire rushed across her face. She wanted nothing more than to head back to a tavern and snuggle up with Holt in the crisp evening air, a warm pie in her stomach and even warmer bedsheets surrounding them. He was probably all pent up from a lack of physical challenge, fighting, or running. She could easily provide a solution to that problem.
But such thoughts were entirely improper for a woman who seemed the only one capable of speaking reason to the odd group of people gathered here.
She noticed Sandy standing very close to Colonel Kerrigan, her hand almost holding his. Either Kerrigan didn’t notice or didn’t mind that she was there. As soon as the inappropriate thoughts of Holt moved out of Larissa’s head, some sordid imaginings of Sandy and Kerrigan moved right in. She pushed those thoughts to one side, knowing she couldn’t hide the pink glow of embarrassment on her skin, but at least the others wouldn’t know the cause. The only mind-reader she knew of was well and truly dead.
“I’ve made my position clear,” the Empress said, her shrill voice cutting through the chatter of the group and bringing the conversation to a halt. “If you want a complete end to all hostilities, then the Empirical lineage of Daltonia should be reinstated. Only then can we consider opening up more friendly trade negotiations between our nations.”
With that, the Empress turned to leave, her entourage of bodyguards following wordlessly.
“I’ve done all I can do,” she said to Larissa as she passed by. “The rest is on your shoulders.”
“Well, Empress?” Holt spoke quietly, leaning toward Larissa’s ear.
“Someone once promised me the world…this wasn’t quite what I had been hoping for.”
“Just remember, you’re not alone.”
“Planning on sticking around because you have to, or because you want to?” she asked with a smirk.
“Both. Besides, someone needs to keep your aim on target. Otherwise, we’ll run out of lampposts.”
THE END
AFTERWORD
Dear reader
You’ve made it! If you have stuck with this series to the bitter end then please allow me to thank you from the bottom of my heart. This has been a truly incredible experience from start to finish. I never really set out to be a serious writer; this story was just a two thousand word entry to an online writing contest that grew and grew. I can only hope, that as you’ve lasted this long, you enjoyed reading.
If you want to keep up-to-date with news, or check out my other books then pop along to my website and feel free to sign up to my newsletter (I’ll only send you interesting stuff though, I won’t spam you with boring stuff about my favourite choice of hygiene products or other such nonsense).
If you enjoyed this book and love a little bit of a naughty read then feel free to check out my erotic fantasy series The Consort’s Chronicles. I promise you won’t be disappointed.
Otherwise, thank you once more. If you have the time spare then please leave a review, I love to hear what people think of my stories.
Warmest regards
E.C. Jarvis
x
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
E.C. Jarvis is a British author working mainly in speculative and fantasy fiction genres. For most of her working life, Jarvis has been working her way through the ranks of the accountancy profession in various industries. At the same time she has also been writing.
“It was always a hobby. I’d knock a poem out every now and then, or enter something into a short story competition, with very little success, but that never stopped me. There has always been an underlying need to write. It comes and goes with varying intensity, but it’s always there, like an itch that needs to be scratched.”
Her first success at publishing was a poem in a collection titled Fear Itself published by Forward Poetry in 2012. Following a three year hiatus where she “couldn’t even bring myself to write a shopping list”, 2015 saw a turnaround that has seen her complete three full novels, and has now completed her first series.
She was born in Surrey, England in 1982. She now resides in Hampshire, England with her daughter and husband.
Find out more at:
www.ecjarvis.com
www.facebook.com/E.C.JarvisAuthor
https://twitter.com/EC_Jarvis