Chapter Twelve #2
“Varic,” Cirrin says, his kind brown eyes settling my nerves. At least she has them—the Guards who have vowed to keep her safe, even if that term is relative.
No. It’s not enough. Not for her.
None of what I witnessed today is good enough for mei meida.
And I intend to change that.
Tears build no matter how regularly I blink them back, threatening to pour down my cheeks with every step bringing us closer to the four-post bed.
Flames roaring in the fireplace cast an ominous orange glow over the black velvet curtains hanging where I am meant to place her, turning my stomach with the thought of her opening her eyes to an instant reminder of what claimed her friend’s life only moments before.
She whimpers, and I study her—brow furrowing, lower lip quivering—and my heart drops with the realization that my arms are not enough to make her feel safe after what happened—a sign I must release her.
I must lie her down on the bed and leave her.
Yet my selfishness wins, and I tighten my grip, unable to let go, needing more. Always more, when it comes to her.
My expulsion of breath scatters stray hairs across her face, and she groans as I lift her higher, cradling her over the mattress where I should be setting her down.
Where I should stop taking what I need from her.
Being close and holding her—those are for me.
Yearning for the brush of her skin, the weight of her body pressing against my own ever since I first experienced it.
Ever since I required her touch to move through grief.
Making it seem as if I used her to heal, but that’s not true. That’s not who she is to me.
Mei waella is not a means to an end. And yet, the need I have for her is vast. Deep and wide—impossible to fill.
Because the more time I spend in her presence, the more I crave it.
The more I find the opportunity to touch her, the more contact I want.
The more I breathe her in, the more I want every breath I take to be made of her scent.
And that’s just it—I need her. Not what she does, but who she is, and why, and how.
I need to put her down.
I’m doing it again.
Holding on too long.
Hesitating.
I need to let her go.
But I can’t. I can’t let her go. Not yet.
My chest heaves with a small sob, and I clear my throat, changing nothing but delaying the inevitable.
I don’t know what I thought I would do once we got to her room, but I was wholly unprepared for just how difficult it would be to relinquish her.
To know I do not have any other option. Because if the Emperor stormed through her door, he would make me.
Yet the moment I do, she will be subjected to abuse far worse than imagined, based on what I witnessed earlier at dinner.
What if I set her down and he—
A warm hand settles over my shoulder as Cirrin’s refreshing scent makes its way into my senses. He stands to the side, offering silent support as I war with myself over continuing to meet my needs over hers.
But what if I’m wrong? What if the way she responded after the explosion was real?
The way she nuzzled into my chest, curling into my arms as if she might have needed me nearly as much.
What if holding her is helping? What if she feels much worse once I release her?
I cannot abandon her, like so many others.
No. I don’t think I can do it.
So am I to hover here, holding her over the side of her bed, until she awakens? Even I can’t delude myself into thinking I possess that sort of strength, or patience.
“It’s okay, Varic,” Cirrin says. “You can lie her down. We will keep her safe from here.”
“I am not leaving,” I snap, and Cirrin bites his lower lip in amusement.
“I will stay until she wakes, regardless of when the Emperor sends Imperial Guard Roy to relieve me. I will not have her think I brought her here just to leave, when she might need me now more than ever. If she has ever needed me,” I say, under my breath.
“Oh, she needs you,” Lars says, inflaming my cheeks. “She just can’t have you the way she needs you.”
Malin steps around him. “I think what Lars means is she feels tormented in your presence because she cannot act naturally, or else the Emperor will know your importance to her.”
“So, in a way, your presence is a form of torture for her,” Fray says. “And if you think that is what she needs upon awakening, then please stay so you might torment her some more.”
“Fray,” Cirrin admonishes. “He is helping. You saw how she reacted. You know it would have been worse had he not been there.”
“Had he not been there,” Fray says, gesturing to me. “Hendry would have been the one to carry Tasch indoors. If he had not been there, Hendry would still be alive.”
I release a breath. “I would do anything to take back my failure. And I will regret not ensuring Hendry was within my shield for as long as I live. Because you’re right Fray, had I not been there, Hendry would have prioritized her safety. He should be the one standing here.”
Silence falls over the room until Malin breaks it by forcing out a heavy breath.
“Do you think it is in her best interest for me to leave?” I ask.
“No,” Fray says, shaking his head. “It’s complicated. The effect you have on her is unlike anything we’ve observed. She’s drawn to you like a Dragon to treasure, and I’m worried it will spell her ruin, because her greed for y—”
“No.” The muscles in my arms burn as I cradle her closer. “You will not call her greedy. She is never greedy.”
Fray’s brows rise, the dark lines on his pallid complexion nearly sinister, especially with the black Dragon tattoos around the pale skin on his neck making it seem as if the uniform rises higher than it does.
“I can be greedy,” I admit. “But you will never refer to her as being so. Not about me, and not to me, because she is one of the most selfless beings I have ever had the honor to meet. And not because she is forced to be, but because it is who she is, and I will hear nothing to the contrary.”
Her Guards all turn and share some silent message as Fray’s hands rise before his chest.
“Understood,” Fray says. “It’s just—she’s easily distracted in your presence, and her magic changes whenever you’re near.”
“So you are saying my presence brings her harm.” My voice breaks as my arms start to shake.
“That is not what I said,” Fray says. “Your presence poses an additional challenge.”
“You think—”
“No,” Lars cuts me off. “We know you would raze the Palace to the ground if it meant saving her. However, it doesn’t change how your presence complicates things.” He steps closer and gestures to the bed. “Go on, let’s have a demonstration.”
My brows furrow, and I blink back at him in question.
“Gods,” he says, shaking his head. “I merely meant for you to lay her down and observe exactly how she reacts the moment you step away from her.”
My heart slams against my ribs so hard, I worry it might wake her as I carefully lower her down to the mattress. The tightness in my throat makes it nearly impossible to swallow, and I can’t bear to look at her, or else tears will surely fall.
But this isn’t about me. She is the one hurting.
I stare out past her balcony to the Eternal Flame as I extract my arms from under her body, then turn to make eye contact with each of her Guards, preventing me from clutching my chest as it constricts with every step backward.
The wall sneaks up on me as the heel of my boot connects just before the back of my skull cracks against it, and my vision continues crowding in. It is ridiculous for my body to react this severely, mere seconds after creating distance between us.
She thrashes to the side, and I rush forward as her arms flail, seeking and reaching before grasping at the covers, gripping and tearing with her nails, dragging my heart down to my stomach from the pain contained in her groan.
I freeze roughly two paces away from her—though I could make it in one if she needs me there faster.
“Varic.” Her voice is distressed, and my heart squeezes as I close the distance.
“No. Don’t,” she cries, tossing her head to the side, fanning her hair in all directions as I retreat.
I was wrong. I misinterpreted. She doesn’t want me.
“Where is Varic?” she asks, still lost in her subconscious.
What does she mean? Does she need to hide from me? Am I the monster in her nightmares? The one she must try to escape?
“She always does this,” Malin says, studying Tasch with a pained expression as I cock my head to the side and stare at him. “She always calls for you and pleads for you in her sleep.”
My heart hammers as I open my mouth to ask him more—
“Please,” she cries.
And oh, Gods—I can’t take it.
“Did he leave me?” Her voice quivers as she tosses her head back and forth. “No.”
My heart breaks into a million little pieces watching her grieve the loss of my contact after all that’s happened.
“Varic,” she cries, turning to her side, sliding her hand over the covers until it rises and reaches for me, though she can’t possibly know I am here, nor where I am standing.
Fuck it.
I’m too weak. I do not possess the strength to deny her when she’s begging—for me.
“I’m here,” I promise, sweeping her hair away to cradle her face with one hand while I hold onto her own with my other, then press and squeeze her palm four times, imparting my message without needing to speak it.
Though I shouldn’t; it’s so cruel of me to do this without telling her its meaning.
Claiming her like everyone else has. Convincing myself this is different, since I expect nothing in return.
Simply one way I use to tell her the truth.
Mei waella. Mei meida.
My Tasch. Mine.
“Godsdamnit,” Lars says.
“What? You expected any different?” Cirrin asks with a wry smile forming.
“Like I told you,” Fray adds. “We are fucked.”