Chapter Eighty-Six #3
I blink against the onslaught of tears, swiping at each eye to try to clear my vision. Needing to see what I’ve done to him.
It doesn’t matter that he couldn’t just be sleeping, because some part of me holds onto the fragmented hope that maybe—
No. Fuck hope. All it ever does is make the sting of reality worse once it finally crushes your heart.
I fall to the ground so hard it jolts through my bones, though nothing can shake me enough to keep me from staring, waiting for his green eyes to open. Just one more time.
Please.
How is he so still? So quiet?
“I don’t care that you’re always moving,” I say. “I won’t even complain about you making too much noise. I promise. Just get up, Jase. Please.”
My eyes trace him again.
“You can yell at me. You can scream in my face. I don’t care that they’ll want to write you up for insubordination.”
I take his hand in mine and flinch at how warm it still is.
My heart kicks hard against my ribs. “Healer! I need a healer!” I scream, even though I know this heat isn’t a sign he’s alive, for his chest neither rises nor falls.
And even if he were sleeping, he’d still be tossing and turning because he’s always moving.
No. This isn’t Jase. Not anymore.
A sob rips from my chest, and I double over, slumped over my best friend. Who will never laugh or tell a joke again.
Because I killed him.
“What did you do, Euclid?”
My nostrils flare as I refuse to look up at the General who gave the order before speeding away to keep himself safe.
A groan pulls me back to the present, and my eyes widen at how low the stone hovers over Lars’ chest, sparking a sense of urgency in me—effectively thawing my freeze.
“You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle, Varic.” Malin’s voice is monotone as he perceives my action before I take it.
I kick off the rubble, regardless, and the sharp pain radiates up my leg. I slide in next to Malin, where he holds Lars’ hand, and I focus my magic underneath the boulder.
“Careful how you sit; you could make the injury worse.” Cirrin’s warning is kind, yet useless as my attention remains on controlling my magic.
I put everything I have into maintaining my blast energy, propelling the stone while the itching tingle of my power grows until I send the damned thing to land over a pile of rubble.
My lungs pull in a breath as I shift my magic to lower a shield over us.
A loud crack draws my attention up, where nothing but the night sky covers us—offering a much-needed reprieve from fearing another stone might come hurtling down on us.
“Thank you.” Malin’s voice breaks as he turns to me.
I knit my brows and stare back with the assumption that he must be joking.
“For nearly killing your soulmate?” I quip.
Lars lurches upright, coughing so much it shakes his broad shoulders, distracting Malin from responding.
Cirrin and I lock eyes when Lars reaches to tap his healer on the shoulder. The corners of Cirrin’s mouth tip up in a smile as he gives me an approving nod, reducing the shame from having unintentionally hurt our speed sorcerer.
The same whose eyes find mine, and I wince under his attention.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d use your words next time, Varic.” The wrinkles around Lars’ eyes deepen while the edge of his mask rises over his cheeks.
“I suppose throwing a giant stone into your chest was a bit dramatic,” I say, unable to prevent the smile from infiltrating my tone. “Even by my standards.”
Lars chuckles, and an overwhelming sense of doom weighs on my stomach—
Because we need to get to Tasch.
Pain sparks like blast energy up my leg as I move to stand.
Cirrin wraps his hands around my arms as I drop back with a groan, then scan the jutting stone for a sign of anyone we know.
His healing magic itches as his power helps to knit the skin back together after it had been sliced by the boulder.
“Can you stand?” Cirrin looks at Lars, who grunts in assent
He releases me to help Malin lift Lars as they each take hold of our speed sorcerer’s arms to help him up.
My heart hammers as I wait for proof he’s capable of standing—then we all freeze as His Majesty shouts, “Find me my witch, now!”
“Fuck,” Lars says, and I lurch toward him, worried he might be unsteady on his feet. “The snatcher lives.”
Fear burns in my chest with every breath I take in.
“Your Majesty, we must evacuate,” the Emperor’s flying Guard, Jesin, says.
“Find me my witch!” Emperor Aldritch screams.
Urgency prickles underneath my skin, animating my muscles as I strain to hold my magic in.
“We will take you to her,” Minea’s voice says in my head. “Come now.”
But what about the attackers? I hold the thought in my mind for Minea to retrieve.
“I’m not one to turn down a snack,” Minea retorts—because of course the Dragons will protect us, but only once we can reach their dens.
I lock eyes with Malin, Cirrin, and Lars, who each indicate their understanding with a nod when I gesture toward the doorway.
I release a breath when Lars takes another step. Which is good.
Because he is going to need to fucking run.