Chapter Nine #2
Lamplight amplifies the warmth in his golden-brown skin, and his eyes appear too bright to be real, as if lit from within.
That raw, exposed feeling washes over me now. The same way I felt the first time our eyes met. With a tell-tale heat lingering, I’m drawn in as some tether pulls taut around my heart. The hair on my arms and neck stands as my vision retracts inward—
The black of my dress is a stark contrast to the white bedding he’s been hiding under, leaving me feeling naked and exposed, even though I am fully clothed.
His gaze conveys an understanding—the kind I wouldn’t have thought possible—like an inherent acceptance is being communicated from behind his irises in a shared moment between two beings.
It was real. I know because I felt it. I feel it still.
Heat grazes my skin, then a sense of warmth and comfort brings on another vision—
A round, weathered table in the middle of a cozy kitchen. Laughter carries through the small space while Varic spoons more roasted potatoes onto our son’s plate…
Tears well in my eyes, obscuring the untouched meal cooling on my own plate presently, just before my mind takes over with a wish for the future—
Hinges creak as I take a quick peek inside our daughter’s bedroom, where her little head rests over Varic’s chest as he reads her the story of the young witch living in a land where each magical being has the right to practice any of their inborn magics.
This particular young witch happens to prefer flight, terrifying her parents.
“You wouldn’t do that to us, would you?” Varic asks, smoothing her hair over her temple as a wry smile, matching that of her father’s, rises up her cheeks.
I draw in a breath, unable to see anything as another vision overtakes me.
I place a kiss over the dark brown, unruly waves atop our son’s head as I stare down at him, marveling at the thick line of lashes he must have inherited from Varic as I rise from his bed, careful not to wake him.
Varic meets me in the hallway after I sneak out, grinning as he gathers me up in his arms while I greedily inhale his warm spice scent.
He sways with me in place, squeezing tighter before releasing me to cradle my head in his hands.
His expression fills with admiration and desire, eyes darkening as they flick up to mine just before he leans in and claims my lips with his own.
The heat of his attention has grown to be too much, urging me to look. Perhaps one glance might offer me the reprieve I so desperately need, maybe even capable of diluting the urge to repeat the action.
So I take the risk, and the depth of his gaze pulls me in, drawing tears which overflow, though I’m well practiced at this and conceal each within the threads of a black fabric napkin before anyone sees them.
But this was a mistake. I am distracting him from eating, as his own plate remains untouched like my own, yet I do not seem to possess the power to break this spell.
“Witch,” His Majesty commands me as I turn away from Varic, his face falling while I plaster on the mask of deference as I pivot to meet His Majesty’s eyes, unprepared to absorb the level of rage roiling inside.
My stomach drops, and I bow deeper than usual.
“You will respond when spoken to.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
He lunges for me, forcing the tip of his nose to press into the peak of my cheekbone, and my nostrils flare with his sulphur scent mixed with the odor of wine on his breath. “I will not accept this level of insolence.”
Purple smoke unfurls around him in Malin’s way of letting me know he sees what’s happening, though I need to warn him off. I will not allow him to take action in saving me, as it could trigger the Emperor’s contingency of punishing innocent children for my insolence.
The deep gray of the Emperor’s force magic forms a smoke-like curl around my throat as it solidifies, tightening with more strength than any fist as it conforms to the walls of my throat, chastising me in a way every telekinetic sorcerer in the area can sense.
My throat bobs as I swallow, desperate to relieve the pressure as it drops lower, filling my chest until my heart slams hard against my ribs.
A new sort of heat rises from between my breasts, while a different sort of panic spirals down and through my stomach, knuckles smarting as I press them into my legs, needing something to keep me from shaking in view of the dining hall full of guests.
Varic’s chair screeches over the marble as he stands and glares at the Emperor, while bringing the room’s attention to himself and away from how our ruler is punishing me.
Stars invade my vision, closing in as I gasp for air.
Then something shifts and confusion swirls around the kernel of hope igniting with the sight of amber—the color of Varic’s magical signature—faintly glowing as it casts across the table.
A thrumming heat, like Varic’s skin with his pulse pounding underneath, sluices up from my collarbone to slip between the Emperor’s magic and my skin, feeling smooth—like a rivulet of water casting upward.
But it must be my imagination, because no magic I know of can meld to one’s skin like this. Force-shields merely form a giant orb or a thin sheet. And he isn’t blasting or obliterating.
Yet its warmth continues to pulse with the beat of a worried heart, feeling familiar and safe.
The same way I felt when the sorcerer I was sent to rehabilitate all those years prior held me in his arms. As if Varic continued to hone his magic long after my lessons on helping him focus.
As if he can control his ability in a way no other sorcerer before him has been known to be capable of.
I stare at the Emperor, seeking any sign he’s noticed my breathing change before I exhale as covertly as possible.
A cooling sensation spreads up my back as Cirrin’s healing magic repairs any damage, while Varic’s magic radiates a subtle heat where it covers me, imbuing my body with a sense of calm, which I gather and send into the Emperor.
Tendrils penetrate the hardened exterior of his rage before I pause, not wanting to alert him. My head feels so heavy. I drop back in the chair when the pressure in my throat relents even more, despite the Emperor’s magic still being wound around it.
I hazard a glance at Varic, who continues to stare down our captor as the relief from the pain proves this is no hallucination.
Then I peer around the room, judging the expressions on every telekinetic sorcerer’s face, ensuring what Varic claims is true—that they are able to detect his blasting but never his shields.
Emperor Aldritch stirs beside me, growing bored with his punishment, while I pretend to be in pain, secretly marveling at Varic for creating the most sophisticated force-shield—undetectable by the sorcerers sensitive enough to recognize all forms of magic.
Relief floods me the moment His Majesty retracts his magic with a sneer, tapping the table to summon an Imperial server to refill his wine goblet.
The air feels especially chilled as the warmth of Varic’s magic lowers to tenderly caress my skin as it leaves me.
His chair scrapes across the floor once more, and my eyes fill with tears as I stare after his retreating form.
Dimitri Royce no longer occupies his seat beside me, and I don’t dare ask anyone around us when he left, as he does not seem like the kind of sorcerer to sit idly by when another is being actively harmed, and I do not care to think of what might have occurred had he intervened instead.
I resume eating, tasting nothing, with my gaze flitting over to the doorway where Varic left. Mourning his absence, despite the impact of his presence.