Chapter Thirteen #2
We exist in silence—my four Guards, the General, and I. The void left in the absence of Hendry’s commanding presence looms with the dread of his role needing to be filled and awareness the Emperor is likely to appoint a replacement as early as this morning.
“And you were assigned as my interim force Guard,” I say to Varic.
He solemnly nods in confirmation, and though none of us speak it, we all know Varic is the most likely to be appointed to a role more integral than as a stand-in for our dead friend.
Varic considers me, his bright brown eyes casting over my being, exuding more sorrow and despair than he had years before this when he felt so bereft he dreaded existence.
Because he knows this pain—this helplessness and hopelessness—better than anyone, making it no use to try to hide from him.
The one who sees through every facade I’ve ever attempted to fabricate.
Who would know instantly if I were to try it, without the need for influence, as he so rarely misreads me or my needs, which is just as terrifying as it would be freeing, were we not both servants to the Empire.
“Fuck!” The scream erupts from me without warning, and I slam the heels of my hands to my eyes, trying to dam the barrage of tears from escaping. “No,” I cry as they fall, regardless.
“Tasch, stop.”
I straighten and sober enough to glare up at Varic, whose eyebrows knit in the center, before I drop my head down into my hands.
“I’m trying,” I say, voice muffled.
He lets out a breath as he lowers to the mattress, sitting next to me much like I had with him when we first met, intensifying the war between my need to shove him away to save us all from ruin and wanting nothing more than to draw him into my chest and make him promise he will never leave, no matter what happens.
“I misspoke.” He stops and clears his throat. “I meant, stop trying to stop crying.”
I open my mouth to argue, yet no words land on my tongue.
A warm hand splays over the needy skin on my back as Varic leans closer and rubs slow, soothing circles.
His touch ignites a cascade of sparks everywhere his callouses catch on the fabric, while the heat of his body expands to thaw more of my coldness, dredging up a memory of when I held him like this—
Gooseflesh rises beneath my touch as I cast my hand along the bare skin of his back while he lies upon his stomach with his arms folded under his chin, and he stares off into the distance.
My fingertips draw circles over him, gently ushering him back from whatever entity continuously tries to steal him from me.
“I cannot begin to express how sorry I am.” He pauses his hand over the small of my back, and my heart lurches as he reaches down to grip my hip, pulling me into his side to provide the pressure he must remember I need in times like this.
“No one blames you.” Malin’s deep voice draws our attention.
Varic shakes his head, not allowing Malin to absolve him of this guilt he carries.
“You did not do this, Varic,” I say, with the cloying need to tell them all whose fault it really is. And with his support, I shake with courage as I admit, “I did.”
The energy in the room transforms the moment each of my Guards gives me their full attention, storming forward to swarm the bed, staring down at me in anticipation.
“You heard his warning before we ever set foot on the balcony,” I say, making eye contact with each of them before continuing, “You heard him say he had a bad feeling—”
“Tasch,” Varic tries, and I hold up a hand to silence him.
“Let her speak,” Cirrin chides, as Varic’s ribs expand next to my own.
“I made him follow me when I should have heeded his concern.”
Fray holds his hand out to me and time stills.
The last of my Guards I would expect to offer this kind of contact, despising touch more than anyone, proving how he would rather provide me with comfort than keep any for himself.
He flexes his long pale fingers impatiently as everyone else stares in disbelief.
I set my palm over Fray’s, and he places his other hand over the top of it—just like Hendry did as we stood by the window only a few hours before this.
“I need you to look at me,” Fray says, and I do as he bids, lifting my gaze to lock on his moss green irises. “How many times have you had a bad feeling about a situation only for nothing worse than usual to happen?”
I cock my head to the side and try to come up with an example.
“Plenty,” he says, squeezing his thumbs into my hand between his. “Then there have been other times where you may not have sensed anything was about to go wrong—”
“Then it does,” Lars adds, his voice nearly back to its normal tone.
“You made a calculated guess,” Fray says. “As we all did. Hendry could have chosen to follow us indoors.”
My chest constricts with a sharp pain emanating from inside of my ribs.
“Instead, he made the choice to look over the railing,” Fray continues. “He trusted the rest of us to keep you safe while he looked into something he thought worthy of investigating.”
Malin nods. “You cannot convince us that he would have done anything without believing it was necessary for your safety.”
“But had I not said I believed the…item could be—”
“Had you lied, you mean,” Cirrin adds, with a hint of mischief.
“You had no reason to say otherwise, at the time,” Lars says.
A sob rises with the kindness of their words, the way in which Varic hugs me to him, and Cirrin’s expression conveying acceptance—it’s too much to take in at once.
“We do not blame you, Tasch.” Fray squeezes my hand once more before he holds it out in offering to the sorcerer sitting next to me, whom he stares at with meaning. “Nor do we blame you, Varic.”
Varic presses his lips in a line as he glances up at Fray to take my hand in his own, and my heart leaps as he turns to face me. “You once helped me to understand how grief is all-consuming. How the vacillating emotions one experiences after a great loss can fell even the strongest among us.”
My breath shudders as he repeats my message back to me so expertly, apparently finding enough meaning in my words to have memorized them.
“How, with the support of those who have been through the same, and with time, the sorrow can become more bearable. How we can learn to live through the despair, rather than stay trapped within it.”
His hand grips the dip of my waist as he braces me for what he’s about to say next.
“You helped me to recognize when you truly believe that all is lost—when it feels as if nothing really matters, nor could it ever matter again, and when you can no longer think of a single reason to take another breath—someone who truly knows what it is like to survive the same can storm into your life and prove you utterly and completely wrong about everything.”
An unfamiliar elixir infiltrates my veins while the comfort he shares with me creates a tangle of blues and greens which stir in my chest, healing the knicks and scrapes belonging to old, unknown wounds.
This safety he brings is a reminder of why I have been forbidden to ever love someone.
Because this feeling is distracting and much too dangerous with the immeasurable responsibility placed upon my shoulders, requiring me to have excellent focus.
And if I think I feel guilty after the death of one of my Guards, how terrible would it be to make even worse mistakes were I to experience this level of distraction with any regularity.
My eyes shift to the wooden doors, widening with the thought of His Majesty barging in to find them all comforting me like this.
“No one is coming,” Malin says. “I will alert you before anyone arrives.”
Varic squeezes where he holds my waist, yet my eyes refuse to either lift or focus.
“None of us knew the level of threat. No one expected Hendry to—” His voice trails off, and he provides me solace with the four pulses he presses into my flesh.
My stomach flips when he surprises me by releasing his hold to turn and climb up and over the mattress until he settles in a seated position against the headboard. He wraps his arms around my front, and I help him lift my weight as he pulls my back flush with his chest in one swift motion.
The rest of my Guards step back and away, giving us space as they witness me slinking down until my bones still and I can focus on the pace of his breathing.
Varic lifts his chin, indicating something to the rest of my protectors, who each respond by tapping their ring finger to their thumb two times, constricting my chest as they have clearly taught him their way of non-verbally communicating. For me.
“Here,” Varic says, bracing me against him as he shifts us back to sit against the headboard, allowing me to rest in the center of his chest where the steady beat of his heart is significantly slower than my own.
His hand spreads over my ribs, apparently noticing how heavily my pulse is pounding as he leans down to whisper, “I won’t let anyone find us like this, if that is what concerns you.”
I turn to find his eyes, heart constricting at the compassion he exudes for me. “I can block the door long enough to keep anyone from entering, if that is what you need, mei waella.”
Even his term of affection for me cannot staunch the fear from squeezing, since anyone who tried to enter would know exactly what he was doing.
“What has he done to make you this afraid of being held after experiencing such a terrible tragedy? We are both fully dressed, sitting on top of the covers, while surrounded by your Guards.”
Fray lets out a heavy breath from where he stands between the windows and the headboard.
“You seem to have an opinion,” Varic says. “Let’s hear it.”
Fray’s eyes find mine as I try to explain. “It’s…he—” I can’t bring myself to say it.