Chapter Forty-Nine #2
The corner of his mouth lifts—master of levity that he is.
“Now, perhaps if you two would stop making me feel things I’ve never felt before with your ardent affection for one another, it would be far easier for me to draw you each with less intensity.
” Tears roll down his cheeks, and he makes no move to swipe them away.
“Thank you, Fray.” My gratitude elicits more emotion from him as he presses his lips together and nods, apparently too choked up to say anything—which might be a first.
Cirrin groans and dabs at his eyes while I offer him my most sympathetic smile.
He shakes his head while poor Varic sits in silence, waiting for me to acknowledge the gorgeous words he’s written.
Yet it still feels wrong, with my old understanding still holding strong.
How, even with this evidence and my trust in him, it feels insurmountable to believe any differently.
Though I shouldn’t feel so terrified to address it. If I am honest with myself, if I truly reflect, this is something we’ve all known much longer than I have been prepared to admit.
Varic remains silent as I turn to face him.
His eyes swim with emotion, rolling in and out like waves, crashing and shifting with the tides inside his irises.
He reaches, then clenches his fist in the air between us, tendons flexing beneath the black ink of the sigil as he pulses the muscles, as if the motion is keeping him from doing something more drastic.
My heart breaks, fissuring further. I need to fix this. I need to help him. And I doubt he cares that my voice wavers when I say, “I’m sorry, Varic. I assumed I knew better for so many years, and that isn’t fair to you.”
His chest halts all movement, and the pulse point alongside his neck throbs so rapidly, I want to scream at him to breathe. But that isn’t what he needs from me. So I give him my thoughts instead.
“I was wrong.” He remains frozen, so I move closer until my fingers brush the side of his leg. “I’m sorry for how adamant I have been. I’m sorry I doubted you would know your own feelings better than I could.”
Tears fall from the peaks of his cheekbones, and it takes everything in me to keep from taking hold of his face to show him I mean every word.
He pulls in a breath, and a current of relief washes over me. I give in to the urge to bring him closer, needing to prove that he is worth the excruciating task of excavating every false belief I have kept buried deep, so that I might replace each with this gift he has given me.
I extend my hand across my lap, which seems to animate him, and his smile widens as he gladly takes it.
His thumb pulses into my palm four times before engulfing it within his own.
He wraps his free arm behind my back while the other keeps hold of my hand, which he pulls onto his lap and braces with more tension than he might realize—so tight not even a natural disaster could force us apart.
A sense of safety allows me to settle into his side, with Cirrin ensuring Drusilla cannot spy on us, and my magic sensing my Guards’ relief.
“Thank you.” Varic’s voice is low, but calm.
“What for?” I ask, turning my head to look up at him.
“Trusting me. Believing me.”
“I always trust you. It’s just that—”
“You thought you knew different.”
I nod.
“I can understand why you believed what you did.”
I quirk a brow at him.
“After a lifetime of being lauded for your utility and service, it would make sense to assume anyone only ever loves you because of it.”
My heart leaps at his use of the word ‘love’, even though I am the one who wrote it.
“But you know that’s not why they adore you, don’t you?” He nods to Cirrin and Fray as I glance over at each of them.
“While I am not sure what was exchanged between you just now, I can guess,” Cirrin begins. “And that’s not at all why we care for you, Tasch.”
My cheeks heat more as I drop my gaze to the floor. “Yes, well, the only service I provide you is managing your emotions so you might better protect me.”
“Is that what you think?” Fray asks. “You’re a much better friend than that.”
“But you’re always taking care of me.”
“Not true.” Cirrin’s eyes are sincere as he delivers the message.
I pull in a breath. “You don’t need to placate me. I understand our roles.”
“You’re doing it again.” Varic nudges me.
“Doing what?”
“Dismissing our appreciation that has nothing to do with your power.”
His words are a key, unlocking something deep. Some damp, darkened room I forgot existed, left to rot while I’ve been made to neglect it.
“I’m sorry that snatcher has made it so impossible to recognize what’s in front of you,” Varic says.
“I’m sorry he has made it so difficult to imagine other beings admire you for more than your magic.
” He squeezes me closer while I turn to look up at him.
“And I am sorry that he has made it so uncomfortable for you to accept that we care about you, not the Imperial Grand Witch—she’s just another of his creations. ”
One of His Majesty’s hybrids. A part of me that splintered off, then stuck around in protection. That inner suit of armor I throw on whenever there’s a battle of warring emotions.
Varic lowers his forehead to mine, maintaining eye contact the whole time. “And that’s another reason we need to get you free of him.”
I pull in a deep breath and brace for it.
“Because we all need you to be the real Tasch again.”