Chapter Eleven #3
Breaking my heart into a million pieces, I spare more magic to siphon his shame from him, compounding the impact of Hendry’s loss on myself as I keep my own guilt in.
“He knew you would protect her while he assessed the origin of the threat,” Malin adds.
“He trusted you. With me,” I choke out, throat constricting, hoping Varic might understand the gravity of my overprotective Lead Guard trusting him more than himself when my life was in danger.
“I am so sorry I didn’t save him. Nothing I can say will ever bring him back. I really believed he was right behind me,” he gasps.
I force my arms to rise within his hold and take his face in my hands to study his expression before focusing on his eyes with the hope he might feel safe enough to do the same. “I know. I don’t blame you, Varic. I blame whoever attacked us.”
“It’s not about blame. It’s realizing that had I done one thing differently, he would still be alive.”
“Regret,” I say, and he holds my gaze, showing me how naming and knowing his experience in this moment is helping to alleviate some of the guilt he carries.
“You’re feeling it, too,” he says, and I break our eye contact.
“I’m the one who insisted we go out on the balcony when he urged me to reconsider.”
“Because you needed to meet with Sal.”
I nod, glancing up, wondering what he knows behind that pointed look.
“Fuck!” Fray screams, crumpling to his knees now that Cirrin has released him, not seeming to notice when I force my magic in to siphon out the worst of his sadness.
“Are you okay?” Cirrin asks, and I nod, since he means physically, to which he returns the gesture before continuing to comfort Fray.
“Whoever set that off may plan to detonate more,” Lars says. “We need to go somewhere safer.”
Something urges me to stay here. Something bigger than myself.
So I stall in the best way I know how. “Would it be possible Hendry could have shielded himself—” I begin, then halt, kicking the ember of hope back beneath the ashes.
Varic shakes his head and whispers, “No. I’m so sorry.”
My chest constricts even though I know a force-shield as strong as Hendry’s isn’t capable of protecting him from an explosion that big. My face screws up in anguish at how far he must have fallen, being that we are several stories above the rocky foot of the mountain.
“I will hold you as long as you need, mei meida,” Varic whispers, using the second of his ancient terms of endearment for me, tugging on something deep within my chest, imbuing me with a warmth I wish could remain long after the initial effect has vanished.
And even though it is terrible timing, I cannot help but yearn to know what each of these terms mean—but I will not ask him. They hold meaning for him, so they hold meaning for me.
“General Varic, it is not in her best interest to keep her here,” Lars commands.
“Wherever we go, she is safest within my force-shield,” Varic says, resolute. “She is safest with me, or at least within my line of sight.”
I should get up. I will need to rise and dust myself off, as it can only be a matter of time before a crowd arrives to check on what has happened. Though they’re all so drunk and drugged, it’s possible none of them heard anything.
But I can’t. I cannot face a world without Hendry in it.
Varic turns, distracting me with the tickle of his lips brushing over the shell of my ear. “I will keep you safe wherever you need to be,” he promises with a whisper as my throat constricts. “Just say the word, and I will help you stand.”
I nod into his chest and drop my forehead to the crook of his neck, allowing myself to breathe in the comfort of his warm spice scent.
“Thank you,” I say, as his fingertips trail down my arm to grasp my hand where he presses four pulses into my palm, squeezing my heart with each one.
Boots strike the marble not too far from us, as a group of Imperial Guards must be marching closer, meaning His Majesty and his own Guards will be here sooner rather than later.
Varic lifts his hand to reach between us, moving down as my brow furrows with his expert precision in locating the split in my skirts.
I freeze when his knuckles brush the sensitive skin over my stomach as he feels around before taking hold of the book, which he so deftly lifts, grazing my skin in its removal before leaning back to secure it within his own uniform.
How did he know? How can I explain? And now how do I convince him to give it back?
My heart hammers in anticipation of what happens once His Majesty asks after Hendry and everything which must come to pass because of what’s occurred.
Cirrin leans down and sets his hand over my shoulder.
“You can let go,” I whisper to Varic, and he shakes his head.
“I lied. I’m not going to release you until I get you safely to your bed chamber. I will carry you to your bed.”
Warmth unfurls within my chest, then fear spears it with the sound of so many boots closing in.
“May I?” Cirrin asks, and I nod, reveling in the sensation of my consciousness fading, delaying the guilt from accepting comfort after—
Hendry.