Chapter Eighty-Eight #2
“No, take Malin,” I command when Malin releases his magic, and Lars braces my back, speeding off with me toward the dungeons.
I clench my eyes shut as the inertia feels like it does when Minea takes off at a sprint, forcing me to swallow down the dinner I wish I had forgone.
“Why did you grab me? You were meant to take Malin. He’s not able to defend himself.”
“Sorry. Can’t hear you. I’m going too fast.”
The incredible urge to scream builds within my chest, but I swallow it down and yell, “It’s obvious how much Malin adores you.
It’s beautiful to see, really.” I peek through my lashes to see the edge of his mouth tick up.
Liar. “Which is why I gave the order for you to take him first, since I can protect myself.”
His shoulders rise in a shrug, and I force out a breath, as it’s pointless to argue now that he’s speeding us down the Stairway to the Stars.
A familiar tug pulls on me, compelled by my blood to go where my bonded Dragon waits. Then before it seems possible, Lars comes to a halt and sets me on the ground. I crumple next to Minea’s side as Lars speeds off to collect Malin without saying a word.
Minea nudges me with his snout. “Come on, let’s get you to your other half.”
A garbled laugh sputters from me, and I squeeze my eyes shut to staunch the burn of tears forming.
My eyes fly open with a burgeoning awareness of something staring, though the soldiers and witches who usually stand guard must have all reported indoors.
Their absence leaves such a strange view of the forest, no longer obstructed by so many black uniforms—a fact which distracts me until I startle with the weight of a full leather pack slamming into my stomach.
Imperial Dragon Master Sonya holds her staff in her left hand with the straps of other leather packs hung from the opposite hand. She stares down at me, with her long gray braid swaying in the cool breeze. Then drops a second pack beside me while I peer up in her wizened gray eyes.
“How did you—”
“Heard the explosion. Saw the ceiling cave in. I’m no oracle.”
“Ah.” My brows knit in disbelief.
“Context clues suggested you would need provisions for your journey.”
My brows rise, and I open my mouth to ask how she knew we planned to go anywhere, when she stalks to Sutrea’s side.
I stare over where she steps up on her hind leg to attach one of the packs to the harness, which has already been secured around Fray’s purple Dragon.
Then she gingerly deposits the rest with Brea, Dranea, and Lucrea.
She takes the long way back to the dens, apparently avoiding me and my incessant questions.
I lift the flap on the top of the pack she thrust into my lap, and my heart slams against my ribs seeing my old journal resting beside the clothbound book I asked the Elder Dragons to hide for us.
I pull on the corner of the treasonous item, then snatch my hand back in surprise as it feels as if the book is vibrating.
A shudder runs through me as I can feel the sensation within the pack itself—pulsing, like the book contains some sort of energy I wouldn’t know what to do with.
Cirrin steps around Brea to stalk toward me, and I shake my head as he gestures down at my ankle. “Show me.”
I shove the book down between carefully folded sets of clothing and note the dried fruit and jerky wrapped in wax paper next to a leatherbound flask, which has already been filled for us.
“No, you’re too depleted. I can ride there with a hurt ankle.” I try to rise to show him I’ll be fine, then lurch to the side and grab onto Minea’s leg.
“Broken ankle,” Cirrin corrects, and I huff out a breath.
“Stop emulating my kind with your stubbornness and accept his healing, Varic,” Minea projects, as I try to pull myself up by grasping onto his scaly leg.
“You know I can heal you from here. However, it will be faster if you allow me to hold it.” His boots clomp closer, and my heart hammers with the stress of having to be tended to like this. So used to letting injuries take their natural time to heal in whatever way they would otherwise.
You only deserve healing if you didn’t cause the injury, Father’s voice reverberates.
And he’s right. So I will take my punishment without complaint. Yet when I go to step down again, pain explodes across my vision. Which I must indicate in some way, as Cirrin drops down to inspect the injury without my consent.
“That’s not a good sign.” Cirrin carefully works the boot off, then pulls off the sock to display deep bruising and swelling.
“No, it’s not. But you’re too depleted. And besides, we need to keep apprised in case the Emperor’s Guards or any others come before Lars and Malin get here.”
“Varic, I will heal your ankle with or without your consent.”
My brow furrows as I turn back to glare at him. “What has gotten into you tonight?”
“I believe it’s called ‘survival instincts,’ Leader.”
I snort in response to his nickname, then freeze in place as his healing penetrates, relieving some of the pressure while taking the throb away.
“Damn, Varic. This is a bad break.”
“Yeah, well, you saw what happened when I tried to move the boulder with and without my magic. I probably fucked it up worse.”
“You mean how you tried to pry the stone off with caution, before attempting to move the rocks which wedged it in? Or how we both tried to lift what we could by hand.” His eyes cast up to me in sympathy. “Hey, are you blocking me?”
I shake my head as my brows meet in the center.
“You must be. I’m more than capable of healing this, but I can’t get through anymore.”
I stare down at the glittering ice crystals lining the stalks of dead grass as Minea jostles me. “Be honest.”
“Varic. You’re causing more damage the longer you refuse to let me in.”
His message infiltrates, and swells from my chest to grow up my throat, where I can neither swallow it down nor cough it out. The kind of message which refuses to abate, no matter how hard I might try to ignore its insistence.
“He’s right, you know,” Minea intones. “I will alert you if anyone dares to come for you.”
“What, by charring them to a crisp and eating them?”
Minea grinds his throat in a churning sound that grates on my ears while also lightening the weight in my chest.
“You need to get better at accepting help when it’s offered. You deserve to be healed, Varic. I don’t know what it’s going to take to convince you that you are worthy of care, but you do not have to suffer. No matter how much your mind claims you deserve this pain as a punishment.”
Tears pool along the edge of my mask, and I let out a pained groan. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes in a vain attempt at preventing more from joining them.
“You have to stop warding yourself off from us.” His words crowd my chest, pressing outward against my ribs.
I can’t stop. I can’t let them in. It’s not safe. It’s never safe.
No. That’s a lie.
Because Tasch has proven the opposite.
Because I have never felt anything but safe with her.
With her eyes as blue as the ocean—or the sky on a rare, cloud-free morning—filled with so much life, so much light, anytime they stare back at mine.
Seeing past the shield I’ve been made to fashion, then wield, before my chest, arms, and muscles burn from the weight of it.
Piecing together the parts of myself the Empire has shredded.
Unrelenting, ever-searching for what I never considered to be missing.
Convincing myself otherwise when those fractured parts know better.
Exploited for my utility, rather than recognized for anything related to who I am, or who I could be.
That’s what she’s able to glean—that’s what Tasch’s aquamarine eyes see in me.
So don’t I owe it to her to try to be the best version of myself possible? Because if she believes I can do this—if she believes I am both capable and worthy of saving—then who the fuck am I to resist the most powerful healer?
The icy wind burns everywhere my skin and mask are drenched from tears, with its bite nearly distracting me from the cooling sensation swirling in my chest as it works its way up to relieve the pressure in my skull as the throb in my ankle lessens.
“I still can’t believe I failed her so completely.”
“Do you mean the way we all believed she was standing next to us the whole time while we focused on tormenting Sal? Or how you were somehow meant to break out of the spell we all seemed to be under? The one most likely induced by the water Drusilla served before we walked on stage, since none of us seemed to have noticed Tasch had moved? Because I don’t know if it was clear to you, but we all failed to keep her safe.
” He releases a heavy breath and looks at me pointedly.
“So unless you think your responsibility is somehow more special than any of the rest of ours, when we all made the same promise, then no, Varic, you did not fail her.”
My ears burn worse than usual as I stare off into the distance and try to avoid taking in any of the sympathy radiating in my direction.
“Or are you referencing your magic?” He releases a breath when I don’t offer him an answer.
“When are you going to get it through your head that no matter how often you may practice using your force with finesse, it will never be capable of behaving like telekinesis? Your form of magic isn’t capable of the refined kind of movement required to free you from being pinned down by rubble.
Especially when you cannot see the obstacle.
It’s why you couldn’t shield Tasch once you no longer had her in your line of sight, right? ”
His words cut deep and bleed from the heart.
I wanted to shield her more than anything, but wanting to be capable of something doesn’t make it possible.
And he’s right. No one can shield something without knowing where to cast it.
And we saw what happened when I blasted my magic without being able to envision the target.