Chapter Eighty-Two #2
A shiver runs through me when Varic’s thumb draws careful arcs over each of my cheeks, yet I cannot calm down. I cannot think of anything aside from what the Emperor has commanded us to do. Not with the drums playing the beginning notes of the ceremonial song.
“Please.” He lowers his tone so his words are only for me. “Mei waella.”
His eyes flash with something as he traces his knuckles along the curve of my neck, then passes by my collarbone to rotate his wrist until his open palm splays over the center of my chest, where he guards my heart, which quirks from his use of this ancient term for me.
“I can’t.” I blink. “I did this.”
“What did you do, mei caerd?” His voice is low and soft.
“I did this to her.”
“Who?”
“May.” Cirrin’s voice is resolute as he steps closer.
The weight and warmth of Varic’s hand rises and falls with every shuddered breath I take in.
“Look at me, Tasch. Show me your eyes.” His words stir something, as he wills the fog to lift before a reckless wind of hopelessness descends, snuffing out the flame of hope he had stoked, casting everything in the deepest, bleakest darkness.
“You didn’t do anything. You didn’t use your magic, Tasch. ”
“That’s not what she means.” Cirrin’s hand curves over Varic’s shoulder as I fight for air to fill my lungs in small bursts. “But she needs to feel calm before we can talk any sense into her.”
Varic nods to him before returning to me. “I’m right here, mei meida.”
His words yank the tether connecting us, and I seek comfort in his impossibly bright irises.
The luminance that is him beams back above the black line of his mask, where it curves over the bridge of his nose and up the peak of his cheekbones, intensifying the admiration and concern held in his gaze—the only kind of overwhelm I welcome.
My lungs expand, and I press my chest against his hand. The subtle weight of his touch seems to be helping—but it’s not enough.
“I need air.”
His eyes fall closed, leaving me to feel alone.
“Look up.” He opens his eyes to gaze back at me so lovingly, it draws tears forth to fill my own. “Look at all the air above us. There’s more than enough up there, mei waella.”
My heart squeezes as his need to help me supersedes his own grief. Using the words Jase would utter in support of him whenever it felt like the walls were closing in.
His fingers flex over my chest. “I know it feels like you can’t do this.
I know it feels like you cannot pull in breath.
But you are capable of amazing things, Tasch.
Every day you astound me with the hard shit you put up with.
You can do this. I promise. Now we are going to pull in this next breath together, okay? ”
I nod, and he exaggerates an intake of breath, indicating how I should mirror him—but I can’t. Not with my chest heaving. Nor my lungs stinging with the venom of a dozen tiny hornets.
“It’s okay. I understand.” He releases a breath while looking at me through his lashes. “You can do this. Let’s try again—together.”
I shake my head, and his mask billows with a laugh. “You’re going to come back to me, mei meida. I can feel it.”
My lungs expand too quickly—too deeply—and I want to tell him I am here with him. That I am only here because he is. That if it weren’t for him…
“Slowly, mei waella. We need to take it slow. Calm and steady breaths. You know I know this.”
I nod with tears streaming down my face because I hate this.
I hate this helplessness. This hopelessness.
My eyes catch on his, and somehow he makes me believe it.
He makes it all seem possible. He helps me to recognize how I can pull through this.
How I cannot allow the fears of what could happen to keep me from trying.
To ignore the desperate wails inside my mind, attempting to convince me I am incapable otherwise.
Varic bends his knees and slowly lowers to the ground, and I follow him down until we kneel over the cold marble, with him somehow maintaining his hold on my cheek and my chest.
“What color are my eyes, mei meida?”
I don’t need to look at them. I’ve memorized their every tone—
Impossibly bright brown. Especially when lit by the sun, or the orange flames dancing over lamps, like they did within the tent when we met.
Deep amber, with a swirl of red inside the flames roiling inside him when the Emperor assaulted me during his vow ceremony.
Golden when Minea pranced around him during their blood-bond.
Dark amber once His Majesty took hold of my throat and dimmed Varic’s inner light from the terror of witnessing me sink down in the marble tub.
Even darker still, with all light lost from within him, the night in the clearing when he confronted the Prince for abducting me.
Too many to describe all the colors I’ve observed in his eyes.
Yet he looks at me now with this pleading expression, practically begging me to say something.
“Brown,” I say, and my heart leaps into my throat as if meaning to escape.
“Mei waella, please look at me.” He shifts where he holds me to rub his hands up and down both of my arms. “Please, describe my eyes to me.”
Without needing to study them, I look up and trace every thread making up his irises.
I cannot seem to stop. I cannot look away.
Because they’re every shade—from bronze to gold—with an impossible brightness I’ve never seen from anyone else. They appear to be lit from within through some unknown sorcery unique to my Varic.
Warm and comforting. Just like he is. Reminiscent of embers—the last bit of warmth which radiates long after the fire has been extinguished.
In his gaze, he contains all the life-giving warmth still glowing beneath the ashes after the moon has risen and the room has quieted, helping me to feel safe.
Knowing I’ll be okay, because he’s here with me.
“There’s—” His arms envelop me, drawing me in for a hug, and the strength within his hold conjures up years’ worth of anguish.
I swallow the whimper forming as fear spears through the pit of my stomach—until I push past it. Fear can be such a fucking liar, and right now is one of those moments.
Instead of caving and doing what’s easier, I breathe him in. The one who will stop at nothing to keep me safe so I can expel all that’s weighed me down.
My tears roll down the front of his leathers as he continues to hold me tightly to his chest.
“I have you, mei meida.” His hands move in soothing circles over my back as my lungs drag in air between sobs, feeling as if it’s only possible to inhale.
Varic leans back with a serious expression as he releases my body to cradle my face instead. “I need you to do something for me. I need you to pull in a breath, then look into my eyes and hold them there.”
I slowly pull in the breath, then force it out of me just the same.
“Describe them to me.”
The deep timbre of his voice acts as a salve for my worn-out and weary soul. My lungs draw in deep and steady as I free the emotions caged behind my ribs. As I carefully remove all barriers to our connection and look into his eyes while refusing to hide my reverence.
“Amber.” The same hue obscured by the tears welling above the edge of his mask, which rises so high with a smile; I ache to see beneath it. “Gold.”