Chapter Twenty-One
Dens
Echoes of our movement fill the vast empty space in the dungeons, with the footfalls of our large party creating a head-throbbing cacophony as we pass through to the Dragon dens where Varic will be granted the honor of bonding with one of the majestic beasts, to whom we owe everything.
The air is heavier now, and my lungs scream for me to leave this place filled with far too many memories.
A sensation the darkness only amplifies, as flames dance within every other gas lamp, while each one that has been lit is dimmed to emit just enough light to discern our surroundings on our way to the secret entrance into the mountain.
Heat climbs up my chest with the visceral memory of how Varic’s body felt when it pressed flush against my own while we danced with his magic supporting my body, now that we cross the floor where it all occurred just hours before this.
His gaze drudges up the emotions contained in our angsty exchange after the dance ended, striking me in the center of my chest with how his mood darkened while I described what I thought he must have already known in regard to my inability to ward in his presence.
How his proximity complicates everything, as anything between the two of us must be in service to the Empire, and nothing more.
An uncomfortable truth I’ve been made to accept, mostly by allowing myself to dream of a life where Varic and I are married.
Sweat beads along my brow as I try to stuff the emotions down, no longer safe to rely on said fantasies to shift my mood.
Not with Varic’s proximity increasing the anguish, for which I need distance.
A special kind of torture to have to spend every moment with the sorcerer of my fantasies while forbidden from meeting either of our needs.
Hinges shriek from the weight of First Emperor Aslo’s enormous portrait, as four Imperial Guards pry its gilded frame from the wall and reveal the arched passageway.
Additional Imperial Guards carry torches between each group, with the Emperor and his Guards taking up the front, closely followed by myself and my own, with Wyrth and his sworn protectors, along with Imelda, being the last.
Ominous shadows flicker over the deep lines creasing the Emperor’s expression as he turns to take the rough-hewn passage, and I belatedly note Raki is suspiciously absent.
A prickling sense of unease spreads under my skin when I look to my left, requiring Hendry’s assurance. Then my stomach drops when Varic’s bright brown irises stare back instead of the blue I expected.
My vision swims as I force my gaze forward and move as a phantom.
Because nothing can prevent the sting of seeking the one who has always been there, only to find their absence.
Forced to contend with the loss of them every time we expect to find their presence.
Made all the worse by the weight of knowing they never can be there again, no matter how often we might look for them.
Because no amount of yearning and hurt can bring them back to us, regardless of how desperate we might feel to make that happen.
I startle when Varic’s hand courses up my lower back to encourage my movement, as His Majesty and his Guards have all disappeared past the threshold.
Every step forward is a plodding endeavor, feeling like my legs have been replaced with something heavier.
The effort it will take to lift each one enough times to finally reach the Dragon dens feels insurmountable.
We catch up with His Majesty, who spins around with a sneer. “Keep up.”
My heart lurches, and I fail to keep pace with him and his Guards as the Emperor forges on toward the catacombs—a confusing maze of tunnels fashioned by the dwarves during the War of the Ages to bury all the beings considered most important.
Lars steps around me, and Malin squeezes past Varic, while Fray and Cirrin follow, leaving my Lead Guard and me to walk side by side where the ceiling is lower than in the rest of the Palace, and the darkness between scattered torches makes for a treacherous passage.
Varic’s breathing grows labored as we enter a particularly tight passage, and he thrusts his hand out to slow my steps.
My magic allows me to see the bright red coils spiraling out from his chest as his anxiety intensifies—verging on panic, reminding me of the first time I learned of this fear he’s held since childhood—
“How did you convince them to give you such a big tent?” I ask, leaning back on the bed.
Varic groans. “Do I have to tell you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” A rueful smile breaks across my face as his emotions unfurl from him and reach for me. “Is that embarrassment you’re feeling?”
“I don’t know.”
I playfully elbow him in the ribs, and he clutches his side to feign injury.
“Fine.” He sighs, sitting up to find my eyes. “They issued me a larger tent because I’m claustrophobic.”
My eyebrows rise, and I sit upright, pooling the bed linens over my legs as I cross them. “The Army gave you a larger tent because of your fear of small, enclosed spaces?”
“Hey, it’s not funny,” he says defensively.
“And I am not laughing.”
Haze overtakes my vision as grief from all of the needs I’ve been made to leave unspoken overwhelms my senses with the awareness they would never be taken seriously, despite me being considered the ‘Empire’s greatest asset’—whatever good that does me.
I shake my head of the recollection and draw on another to find some calm and safety when I can’t connect. My pulse throbs in my veins as I try again, needing to act quickly because Varic’s breathing is becoming clipped. But I don’t understand; I’ve barely used any—
That heaviness. The distinct weight of loss. Thicker and broader than the one who used to walk through these tunnels, shoulder to shoulder with me, every time before this.
Godsdamned grief, dampening my ability, when it is Varic who needs me.
“Breathe in through your nose, slowly—like you taught me,” I whisper, as his chest expands and my heart hammers, unsure if I can help him without the use of my powers. “Good. Now breathe out through your mouth, just as slowly.”
Varic nods, closing his eyes just before they fly open again.
I scan our surroundings until the tension in my shoulders relents when none of the Guards should notice the risk I am about to take in supporting him. Not in these cramped, winding tunnels, nor with this relative darkness.
With the need to do something to help him while he tries to steady his breathing.
My touch has always seemed to bring him comfort, so I take the risk with the confidence I can come up with some excuse if needed, and grab hold of his hand more aggressively than intended.
My cold fingers dig into the warmth of his palm as he turns his head, eyes widening as he tries to yank his hand free.
Though I refuse to let him—not even when he throws his glance back to the Guards behind us, whose collective gaze remains trained on the ground, studying where to take their next step.
“Remember what Jase used to say?” My heart twinges as I call upon the ghost of his best friend—tempering my guilt with the excuse that grief is different from panic, at least. His eyes seem to lose focus as he stares back. “Look up, Varic. See all of the air up there?”
His eyes fall closed, and his chest quivers as he drags in a shuddered breath.
“I…I can’t.” His voice quivers, shaking my heart with it. “I can’t do it.”
“Okay, I understand.” Tears sting along my lash line. “Please, Varic. Just look—”
“You don’t understand. I can’t.” His expression is pinched as the pale gray of depression envelops his anxiety like a threadbare blanket.
My heart hammers behind my ribs, because that’s not what I meant—I wasn’t going to ask him to do the same thing—I have another idea. But he isn’t in a place to take directions, so I need to think of something different. Something meaningful to him.
So I squeeze his hand and make sure to pause after every time I tense my fingers around his palm, making sure all four pulses are felt and accounted for.
His brows remain knit in the center as he glares over. “You don’t know what that means.”
“No, but it worked, didn’t it?”
“How so?”
“Are you currently feeling more panic, or has your annoyance with me overtaken it?”
He forces out a breath and shakes his head. Then his eyes seem to glaze over, and damnit, I’ve already lost him again.
Risking his ire, I squeeze his hand with the intention to do so all four times when he swivels to pin me with a warning.
“Please, Tasch. You don’t—”
“You’re right. Because you refuse to tell me its meaning. So if you would please inform me, I could know whether or not I mean to impart this sentiment I am pressing into your skin, the same you have done to me for as long as we have known each other.”
His chest rises and falls, while a sense of triumph fills my ribs with the fact he just pulled in what seems like a deep breath.
My eyes flick from the uneven ground to him, waiting for any indication of whether or not his panic is still present.
“I…I can’t,” he says, and I nod.
“Then if you will let me finish what I was saying earlier.” I tense my hand around his and hold it, giving him the pressure he’s always needed in times of stress. “Look at me. Look at my eyes, Varic. Describe them to me. Please.”
I keep my head turned toward him then pull in a sharp breath now that his pupils have nearly overtaken his irises—and not just from the dim light around us.
He stares at me so intently we fail to notice the terrain and stumble over the sudden change in elevation, though our tight hold on each other’s hands keeps us upright, and we never break eye contact.
“The clear blue of the ocean, brilliantly lit by the midday sun,” he whispers.
Tingles light beneath my cheeks.
“What else,” I barely manage.
“The brightest blue,” he says wistfully. “Aquamarine.” His tone has shifted. Resolute.
“The gemstone?”
He nods, seemingly distracted from our surroundings.