Chapter Nineteen
Adjustment
“Wasn’t that wonderful?” Emperor Aldritch cries out, clapping Varic on the back with one hand and wrapping the other around my waist to pull me into his side.
“Now we drink!” the Emperor exclaims, releasing us to stand in the center of the room full of those who stare and murmur.
I pull on my well-practiced mask of intimidation to ward off any attempts a guest may make at conversation.
“Are you okay?” Cirrin leans in to ask me.
“Yes.” I lie, as he looks at me through narrowed eyes.
“I supported her weight the entire dance,” Imperial Lead Guard Varic reports. “She needs to rest.” His hand presses in at the small of my back, no doubt in an effort to guide me toward a chair or some other settee where I might find reprieve.
“You fail to mention how you are supporting her weight still,” Malin says, staring at Varic.
“What do you mean?” Lars asks.
Malin pulls in a deep breath before answering, “Our Leader is using his force-shield to help our charge remain upright.”
My Guards turn to Varic with awestruck expressions while the thrum of his magic grows faster over my skin.
He clears his throat and nods at Cirrin. “You imbued her before we danced, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Cirrin confirms.
“Then why is she experiencing so much difficulty standing?” Varic’s tone grows more aggressive with each syllable, and my hackles raise in Cirrin’s defense. “You are the strongest healer alive, are you not? Shouldn’t your magic steady her far longer than it is?”
My nostrils flare as I force out a breath in exasperation before parting my lips, preparing to explain, when the living embodiment of distraction cuts me off—
“Did you give her all you could spare?” Varic asks, eyes darting between Cirrin and me.
“Nearly—” Cirrin begins.
“Well.” Varic gestures to me with his pointed expression directed at Cirrin.
“No,” I say, placing my hand on Cirrin’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”
“You are not fine,” Varic practically growls at me.
I hold up a hand to silence him. “I said ‘no,’ and if memory serves, you become quite protective the moment anyone besides yourself goes against it.”
Varic turns to Cirrin. “How long has she been like this? How long have I missed the signs of her exhaustion returning so quickly after she’s been healed by you?”
“A while now,” Cirrin admits, dropping his kind brown eyes to the floor while pulling his lower lip inward. Then he straightens to add, “We’ve all been concerned.”
Varic tears his hand from my lower back as he turns, storming two paces away before he pauses to press a fist to his lips as his eyes slam shut.
A knot forms in my throat from all of this anguish he’s feeling due to his care for me, and I cannot allow him to endure this for what already feels like an eternity.
I send my magic and pull on his threads of fear and doubt, collecting the tendrils of concern and care from his chest and spool each inside my own, while trying to be careful not to take too much, hoping he won’t suspect what I’ve done.
He spins back around, swallowing the distance between us while his darkening irises rove over my features, behaving like a wild animal desperately seeking a weak point in the snare entrapping its limb.
“Godsdammit, Tasch, you cannot expect me to stand by and watch you suffer.”
Guilt and shame slowly slake down my spine, conjuring her to laugh in Varic’s face. “That is precisely what you have vowed to do, Imperial Lead Guard Varic.”
His expression remains just as concerned, even after her attempt at drawing his ire.
“Are you insinuating that you do not think they care?” she asks, gesturing to the rest of my Guards.
“You think they watch because they couldn’t be bothered to intervene?
” Varic’s face falls, flinching. “You think we have any real option to do anything other than obey his commands, no matter what we believe to be just or right?” My voice cracks as I come back to myself, filled with the fear of what would happen to those threatened to be punished in my stead.
Varic’s eyes lose their focus as he sends me small rivulets of compassion, breaking my heart with the gesture. Because that’s not what I need, Varic.
I need space.
I need air.
My feet act on their own, and I turn to stalk off in the opposite direction when heat I shouldn’t be able to recognize encircles my arm, lighting off sparks.
I snap my head back and fail to hold a glare the moment his impossibly bright brown eyes find mine with an expression my strongest mental wards could never shield against.
Please, Varic. Don’t do this.
Tears pool along my lashes, and no amount of blinking gives me a reprieve from needing to witness the pain rioting within him, calling to me with the sharp sting of rejection making its way through our connection, feeling as intense as I would expect him to feel had the whole of the Continent shunned him.
How one might experience being forced to live alone in the forest where it isn’t likely you could last a whole minute without the protection of others.
Yet it is only me and my refusal to engage with him in this moment, which should not feel so harmful, proving the fact he still feels too much for me. I should not be able to affect him so powerfully. Not in how he stares back at me with that haunted quality.
The same which dwells within me.
My vision clears, and I see all of him. Needing less. Needing to break free of this.
I yank my arm forward in a vain attempt to free it, but he merely tightens his grip. Pain erupts beneath his hold as he fails to recognize his own strength, again.
Never knowing when to stop, and since he will not release me, I send him a wave of anxiety.
Dark tendrils infiltrate his chest, shifting something within his gaze until it is positively scorching—indicating he knows what I’m doing—yet he still refuses to concede.
So I send dark red tendrils of fear spiraling straight into his heart.
“Don’t.” His voice is gritty as his jaw muscles tick, and he tightens his grip again.
I lean into the pressure and goad him. Good. Leave your mark. Show me how our Empire has hurt you, Varic.
Give me your anger. Bruise my flesh. I promise I can take it. Just like you have.
I pull on every bit of fear I have absorbed over the last two days and transfer it to him—a reminder of how much he can contain without realizing it—having seen him at his worst.
“I won’t need to once you let me go,” I snarl back at him.
“Hey.” Fray’s hand lands on Varic’s shoulder. “She said to let her go.”
“Or what, you’re going to fly off with me?” Varic scoffs, side-eyeing Fray.
“Something like that,” Fray promises, stepping to his leader’s side.
Varic’s brows knit together as his fist opens, and Malin’s satisfied grin is all the explanation I need to know exactly what happened.
Varic rubs his knuckles. “Are you so afraid of me?”
My heart lurches at his eyes filled with mourning.
Anger builds inside my chest, a culmination of all we have been made to do as servants, at the circumstances forcing us together in this dance of wills. So consumed with rage, she speaks for me. “Are you so incapable of recognizing your own strength?”
My words are an arrow, his heart the target.
She falls back, leaving me to repair what she wrecked.
Varic’s face falls, pale and stricken.
Lars knocks Fray away from Varic’s side and puffs out his chest to press forward into his newly appointed leader’s.
“Apologize,” Lars commands.
Varic’s eyes fall closed and he sighs, stepping back, chest rising and falling dramatically.
The rest of my Guard’s attention vacillates, glancing from me to Varic, then scanning the area.
Varic turns to me with his posture returning to its natural fluidity.
Tears threaten, and I tear my gaze away, because no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to separate who he was with who he must be to me now. And forevermore.
“Tasch.” His voice is gentle and cautious, only dropping my title because no one else can hear it.
Yet I do not honor his attempt with any form of acknowledgment.
He moves closer, and my heart trills when he raises his hand and reaches for me. Then his expression sours, and he huffs out a breath.
“I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Varic looks up through his lashes, and I nearly combust from all the heat his gaze brings to my skin. “It was as if everything in me was screaming to make sure you didn’t leave.”
My chest constricts until I cannot take another moment of this torment.
With a curt nod, I take off, walking as fast as I can on shaky limbs through the small groupings of guests.
I quickly lose track of where I am, as I avoid eye contact with everyone I pass until that unsettling sensation creeps up the back of my arms, telling me to retreat.
Yet I am my own worst enemy, the one who continues to punish myself with guilt as I lift my gaze, knowing exactly what I will find as my heart drops.
Because I should have known better. Because of course they would expedite repairs made to the door and balcony.
Anything to hide a sign of weakness or failure.
New glass reflects my disappointment and sorrow as I stare out at the scaffolding they’ve already erected to begin repair of the balcony that is so clearly seen through the doors leading to what otherwise are the charred marble ruins of the night our lives were changed forever.
My pulse thrums as I retract my gaze to trace the elegant loop created by heavy metal chains wound in and around the handles with a large gold lock hanging in the center.
Varic clears his throat, and I release a breath as he steps closer, apparently learning, since he keeps his hands to himself.
“Tasch,” he says just under his breath, then shuts his mouth once I shake my head.
“I’m so sorry,” Fray grits out, his voice thick with regret.
“I do not blame any of you,” I explain. “Now I need you all to stop doing so yourselves.”
Varic gestures to the right, and we all follow where he leads to an unoccupied annex where prison cells once trapped more souls than we could ever know.