Chapter Thirteen #3
Varic’s muscles go rigid, tightening his hold on me as he drops his chin, scattering sparks across my skin from the feel of his lips pressing onto the top of my head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I can guess, and my fear is that it could be worse than anything I am imagining.”
It is. So much worse, and I will not burden you with his cruelty. Not if I can avoid it.
His acknowledgement lessens the prickly sensation, allowing me to settle, wrapped up in him as I greedily breathe in his scent.
“And I highly doubt they suspect we would convince your Guards to remain in here while you and I snuck off to the closet for a tryst; otherwise, His Majesty would never consider appointing me—”
An odd straining sensation takes over when I ask him, “Appoint you to what, Varic?”
His breath cascades down my shoulder, tousling my hair and tickling the side of my neck.
“Do you think it is in your best interest for us to discuss what we have probably all come to realize as far as how the Emperor is most likely to respond to tonight’s attack?” Varic says, so carefully avoiding specifics out of respect for me and my feelings.
“I don’t think I can,” I whisper, though my response is so vague I worry he might misunderstand the meaning.
“Then we will wait,” he says. “Because if I understand correctly, he will announce the sorcerer he will be appointing in a toast given during a celebratory dinner.”
The thought of anything celebratory after Hendry’s gruesome death makes my blood thicken, pounding inside my mind with an ominous thrum.
Yet Varic’s unrelenting kindness and consideration in this moment outweigh the rest as my body settles into him, and my chest blooms with every color I know of to convey a sense of gratitude.
“Thank you,” I whisper, turning toward his ear so he might hear me better.
“What for?”
“Staying.”
His body relaxes, releasing its tension beneath my weight while still managing to hold me to his chest when he whispers, “I could never leave you, mei waella.”
The meaning he infuses—how he would never leave me, were it ever his decision—it strikes something in me. Something lost, or broken, as he leans down to press his cheek to my temple, displacing my hair where sparks light across my skin.
“And I promise to be here when you awaken.” His voice is low and kind, helping me to drift back to the recesses of my mind.
I groan when something moves, disturbing me as I try to stay asleep.
“I’m sorry,” Varic says.
My eyes widen as I push off of his chest and bolt upright while he smiles from where he lies at an odd angle beneath me.
The rumble of his laughter shakes its way up my body, entrapping me, unable to remove my hands from his chest while I freeze.
Fray joins in, as he fails to hide his laughter behind a loosely held fist, until I lock eyes with him and he clears his throat.
“Imperial Guard Roy has arrived to act as your interim force Guard while I attend a meeting with His Majesty,” Varic says, with a hint of sadness mixed with resignation.
“I am barring the door so that no one can enter; however, they are being quite adamant that we let them in, so I decided it was best to wake you rather than further anger the Emperor.”
I push off his chest and lean back on the mattress, preparing to ask if his choice of words means he plans to return, then pause as all five locks click before the door creaks open to allow Imperial Guard Roy to pass through quickly.
His light white skin and curly blond hair are tinged with an orange cast from the firelight as his bright green eyes fall on me before quickly darting away to take his place by the head of my bed where Hendry would normally be standing.
Drusilla struts in next, and my stomach plummets. Her pale gray eyes widen, and she pauses to stare at Varic as he swiftly rises from the mattress.
A flush of a different sort burns beneath my skin with her past betrayals dark and ever present, like a petrified forest.
Varic spares me one last glance, eyes glinting with an unspoken promise as he strides toward the door, captivating me as I cannot tear my gaze away from his squared shoulders.
Left in a loop of recollection, of the moment the back of his head was swallowed by the darkness as he stepped out past the threshold.
I ignore Drusilla’s gaze that’s studying my expression while dread fills my limbs, and I frantically scan the room for any sign that Varic might have stowed the book he cannot be caught carrying.
Though I swear on every Dragon, if he has it still and the Emperor harms him because of my act of treason, I will end the tyrant’s miserable existence without a second thought to the consequences.
My throat constricts as I peer up at Malin, needing to ask where the book has been hidden without alerting my attendant. The witch clears her throat before storming off toward the bath chamber, expecting me to follow.
My heart slams into my ribs as we make our way behind her, with the fear His Majesty will make true on his word and punish innocent children should Drusilla report any of her observations.
How, without needing to use her magic, she could influence the Emperor’s beliefs with words alone, giving him reason to suspect Varic and I are engaging in forbidden acts when he was doing nothing more than providing me comfort.
She undresses me, moves me into the tub, then lifts my limbs to scrub and shave my body, as if she hadn’t already performed the same grooming rituals this morning.
Time passes in a blur, then I’m standing on a mat with her running a towel over my skin before shoving me around, dressing me as my exhaustion casts a haze over everything like a thick gray fog.
The need for sleep is so strong, I cannot imagine how my Guards remain awake all hours of the day and night, even with healing magic to aid them.
I float through the enormous space, following the same muffled instructions I have every night for most of my life, taking a second glance at my left-hand side, anticipating Hendry to emanate from nothing. To be here with us, as he has been for the last decade and a half.
A warm hand grasps my own to aid me in climbing into bed, with a bid of thanks rising to catch in my throat, unable to speak it without the risk of crying instead.
Drusilla’s white hair disappears through the same doorframe as Varic’s had before her, and I count each of the locks as they slide into place, feeling less safe than one might imagine.
The heavy wooden doors and the metal between them serve to entrap me, as well as my Guards, who all take their places rather than lining up as usual to have me modify their emotions for the long night ahead of them.
Cirrin seems to notice me looking out expectantly, incapable of ignoring the fact that this is the first night I will fail to tend to them. “You don’t need to do any more than you already have.”
“I think,” I begin, voice coming out as thick and hoarse as I’d expect with the emotion welling in my throat. “I need to—”
He steps closer and places his hand over my shoulder as I lean into his touch. Not providing me healing like usual, rather comfort in the form of physical affection.
“If you need to maintain our routine and perform the ritual, I understand.” His hand casts down to take mine, and I do what he said, siphoning his feeling of weariness and replacing it with calm and focus.
“Thank you,” he says, as my lips roll inward where I clamp down to keep from crying out.
Roy claims he’s already been influenced by the witch assigned to his unit, so Lars steps forward, allowing me to do the same before offering his gratitude in return. Then Fray comes forward and strangely remains quiet, only offering me a small smile once I have finished.
I pull in a deep breath as Malin approaches, his hazel eyes seeing straight into my soul as he shares a look of compassion.
“I didn’t know—” I say, furrowing my brow, uncertain what I meant.
“You couldn’t have,” Malin says.
“Couldn’t have what?”
“Known that last night would be the final time you would perform this ritual on Hendry.”
His words break through the room, containing all I could not safely express when in Drusilla’s presence. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest, while I greedily breathe in his rich, woody scent. He rubs his hands up and down my back as he leans against the side of the bed.
The rest of my Guards take their designated places around the chamber when Malin’s deep baritone rattles my ribcage as he rocks gently and begins a song meant to help me drift off to sleep—something he used to do far more often, bringing a sense of sentimentality I was not prepared to experience.
He releases his hold on me and continues singing, keeping his voice low as he carries on through the chorus of a common sailor’s song, soothing me until I allow a small smile to form in gratitude as he tips his head and begins the next verse.
Cirrin steps into Hendry’s old place and sets his hand on my shoulder once I drop my head back on the pillow. I pull in a breath made up of Varic’s scent, which subtly remains on the pillowcase, then cast my eyes to the ceiling, where light blue clouds usher me into a dreamless, restless sleep.