Chapter Thirty
Nightmare
Varic
The way she just lunged for me.
Reaching out in a bid of compassion and concern. For me.
Her actions speaking louder than any words could. Witnessing her impulse to comfort me the second I named the way she has seemed to be repulsed by my presence lately. Her initial reaction—her first instinct—was to prove just how wrong I was.
“Varic,” Cirrin says, tone laced with concern and a hint of humor. “What’re you thinking?”
My ears must be red with the heat burning in them, flowing inward to infiltrate my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose, which I try to cover with my hands as I swipe them one after the other through my hair—a tactic of distraction I am learning does not work on the healing Guard who stares at me, awaiting my response.
“Tasch,” I admit, voice muffled enough he moves closer, indicating he didn’t hear. I pull in a breath and utter, “Just something between Tasch and me.”
He nods, stepping away while looking up at me with obvious amusement.
“Of course,” Fray starts. “Everything is about you two. However, since we never leave her side, anything to do with her is also something we are bound to learn, so you may as well say whatever it is, since we are all going to find out regardless.”
“To your point,” I say, gesturing over at the sleeping witch in question. “You were all here. You each witnessed the exchange I’m mulling over.”
“Where you divulged your fear of repulsing her, and she nearly launched herself off the bed in an effort to make you feel better?” Lars asks.
“Yes,” I admit, wishing I could cool my fucking ears down before they burn so hot they remain this reddened forever.
“She proved your point, so what concerns you?” Malin asks.
“She didn’t prove anything,” I say and am met with a cacophony of dismissive noises from each of them.
“You’re serious?” Lars asks.
“I thought you knew her better than to question her reaction,” Fray says, fanning the flames of embarrassment in my chest.
“She doesn’t talk much, or at least, she doesn’t anymore,” Cirrin says. “She’s learned to be calculated, so whenever she acts on impulse, that’s the real her.”
“Cirrin said it better, but that is what I meant,” Fray adds.
“What do you expect me to do with any of this?” I ask, like a young sorcerer completely uncertain of how to conduct myself around others.
“If she seems uncomfortable, back off,” Lars says.
“She never seems comfortable, so are you saying I need to constantly keep my distance?”
He rolls his eyes while muttering some curse under his breath before pinning me with his gaze and letting out a heavy breath. “No, your presence has enlivened her. Far more than we’ve seen the last few years.”
Each of the others nod in agreement, and my brows knit in the center as I drop my gaze to her sleeping form.
My heart squeezes at just how peaceful she seems, while wondering what in the Continent I’ve missed over the last handful of years, since she’s much too practiced at feigning wellness, and we haven’t had the opportunity to speak in relative privacy since we were forced to part.
“Let’s just hope I can keep her that way,” I say, referencing my concern with the recent attacks on the Palace, as well as those along the border.
“Speaking of—has the Emperor taken any of the Generals’ claims of the change in attack strategies from bordering lands seriously?
Or do you know if he has sanctioned any of the other bases to modify our own? ”
Malin shakes his head. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but our ruler doesn’t take news of our current strategies failing due to the inventive changes from multiple other lands well—especially not when they all come in around the same time.
But to answer your question, he has not, because he perceives it to be like admitting defeat. ”
I stare off into the distance, being well acquainted with the Emperor’s thirst for what he perceives as power, and yet, this is entirely nonsensical, even by his standards. Putting our Empire at risk if we don’t—
Tasch’s groan pulls our collective attention as she thrashes, and I quickly close the distance between where I was standing and the edge of her mattress.
“Cirrin,” I say, calling him over as her groans turn more urgent before she cries out, voice growing in volume every second it takes him to round the end of the bed. “Can you?” I gesture, and he takes her hand to more effectively imbue her with healing magic.
“What do you notice?” I ask after her loudest cry yet, heart hammering as a haze encroaches my vision.
“Her heart rate is elevated,” he reports.
“Even after you imbued her?” I ask, terrified.
“Her mind is so active, it’s as if it’s been taken over and cannot settle like usual,” he says.
“What do you mean ‘taken over’?” I ask, far more scared than I was a moment prior.
“No!” she screams, and I look to each of her Guards, none of whom can help her emotionally, as none are sanctioned to influence her feelings.
“Glass. Shattered,” she says, and my brow furrows, staring up at the perfectly intact glass in each of her doors and windows before my face falls and understanding weighs on me.
“She’s having a nightmare about—”
“Hendry,” Fray finishes for me.
“Glass everywhere,” she mutters, and my stomach twists, haunted by the way my boots crunched over the broken panes once held inside the door to the balcony.
“No, don’t take me!” she yells, and my eyes widen in horror as I was the one who carried her right after it happened.
But she had indicated—she had acted as if—
“Fray! No! Stop!” she yells next, and we look at one another in confusion, as Fray didn’t lay a hand on her the night flames claimed Hendry’s life.
“One of you,” I command, pointing at each of them, then down to her, “do something.”
“What would you have us do?” Lars asks.
“Do you want me to try to wake her?” Fray asks, and I force out an exasperated breath.
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice breaking the same as my heart.
“If Cirrin’s healing can’t calm her, I’m not just going to stand here watching and waiting while she endures this.
” Her eyes dart around under her eyelids, and her muscles tense as she flexes her limbs, flinging them out to the side while her back arches.
I can’t take this. She’s in agony.
And if I can’t change the way she feels with magic, I’m going to have to get creative.
Looking from each of her Guards, I pull on the courage to go against everything screaming at me to follow the Emperor’s orders, knowing she needs the exact opposite of what anyone in this room would approve of.
Because anyone could catch us if I go through with doing the one thing that always settled her nightmares before.
Back when she was free of these walls and the cloying expectations within them.
When a lifetime of being held captive by the tyrant who presides over all of us finally caught up with her.
When she may have needed me a fraction of the amount I need her. Because the way she lunged for me, the way she reached for me, how she looked at me—all signs my proximity may actually be comforting.
The next cry to rise from her squeezes my heart.
Fuck it.
“Not when I can do something,” I say, voice suddenly sure.
“Which is?” Lars asks, expression shifting to one of amusement as I bend to pry my boots off before flinging them to the floor.
“Malin,” I command, pointing a finger toward the large wooden doors, “make sure no one comes in.”
“What are you thinking of doing?” Malin asks, with the ability to sense the exact action I am about to take.
I pull back the covers and drop down beside Tasch’s rigid, wailing form.
“Shh shh shh.” I swipe the dark hair, now slicked with sweat, back from her forehead.
She turns into my touch as I pull her to me and carefully brace her head to my chest, counting each heartbeat as it passes, terrified that our rhythms match, as scared as I am for her. Meaning she must feel so alone, without knowing I’m holding her.
“I have you,” I whisper, rocking her slightly. “I’m here, mei waella.”
I hold her and hum, rocking us back and forth as gently as I can until her muscles slacken and my heart settles with them. Feeling comforted by the way she curls into me, sleeping suspiciously peacefully.
“Varic,” she mumbles, turning to face me and nuzzling into my uniform, pulling something taut around my chest as I choke back tears, desperately blinking, trying to keep any from falling.
“Shit,” Fray says.
“What?” Lars challenges him.
“This is fucking torment,” he gestures to us while answering in a wavering tone.
“What, watching them mourn the loss of each other while sharing the same room is too much for you, softie?” Lars goads him.
“It’s fucking heartbreaking,” Fray admits, voice thick with emotion.
“How do you think it feels for me, hearing you discuss this while I’m right here?”
“We have no way of saying anything outside of your earshot, Varic,” Fray retorts, sobering quickly.
Lars smacks his arm harder than I think he intended, with the crack that sounds from the contact.
“So what’s the solution?” Frays adds. “We can’t keep going like this.”
“We work on the extraction plan, for all of us,” I concede, before dropping my chin to rest over Tasch’s head and pulling in a deep breath of her warm floral scent, reveling in the contact until I figure out exactly how to extricate myself without startling her awake.
“Which means we need allies to help protect the orphanages.”
They each nod in agreement and Malin releases a breath.
“Someone’s coming,” he says.
My eyes fall closed as I cuddle Tasch close, not wanting to let go. But she’s more settled now, and if I’m not the one to go to the door, they will know something is amiss—whoever it is.
A knock sounds, and I could kill whoever is making such a racket when they know she must be sleeping.
I shift over to my back and help her rest against the pillow with regret. Wishing I could stay here, holding her longer.
“Here, I’ll help,” Lars says, walking around to this side of the bed.
I turn and sit on the edge as one of my boots rises in the air until Lars takes it in hand to help me tie my laces faster than I can.
He makes quick work of it, then Malin must use his magic to lift the second, which Lars takes and repeats the action.
“Thank you.” I pull the covers back up over Tasch’s chest and rush toward the door as a second knock sounds. “Fucking be patient,” I mumble as Malin nods and telekinetically unlocks the door.
I pry it open just a hair. “Announce yourself quietly; she’s sleeping.”
“Imperial Grand Philosopher Wyrth.”
A collective groan sounds through the room behind me.
“And your purpose?”
“To perform the exam I was turned away from performing earlier.”
“As I said, she is sleeping.”
Wyrth takes hold of the door and begins to open it, so I grasp hold of the lever and refuse to let him.
“I don’t know what you think you are doing, but you will not be gaining entry.”
He huffs. “I won’t be a bother. Her healer can help her remain asleep while I perform—”
My face contorts as I try to reconcile what he’s just said. “You will not be touching her, especially not when she is unconscious; I don’t care if the Emperor commands it himself.” The door clicks shut as I refrain from slamming it, and Malin uses his power to lock every lock.
“Hey.” Cirrin takes hold of my shoulder. “You did the right thing.”
I nod and force myself not to shrug out of his affection, then look up to make eye contact with all of them.
My gaze lands on Fray last, and my ears fill with a high, tinny ringing when I ask, “Has he ever performed an exam on her while she was sleeping?”
They each shake their heads, and I can finally pull in a breath. “Good. And he never will. Not as long as I’m breathing.”
Tasch shifts under the covers and groans as I rush over.
Her hand is so cold when I take it in my own, and her fingertips barely have any color left in them. I squeeze her palm four times and tell her, “I’m here, mei meida. I have you. I promise.”