Chapter Thirty-Three
Safe
“Lars!” I shout, as a bright red streak speeds to wrap Varic’s weak frame in a tight side hug, where he rests Varic’s head against his shoulder before it drops.
I lunge over the bed with dread constricting my chest because Varic’s skin is far too pale and his eyes appear vacant, lacking their typical calculating discernment. I’ve never seen him like this. Not even when I thought he had experienced the worst of what his magic could do to him.
“Here,” I say, patting the mattress as I shuffle back to make room for him.
“Help him up on the bed. He needs to rest.” I grab hold of the top sheet and tear it down the bed, heart pounding as I trace every move Lars takes in assisting Varic.
Tears sting my eyes in the absence of protest from him, while more threaten to spill over the ridge of my lashes the longer he remains silent, especially when Lars lifts his legs to rest atop the soft white sheets.
This isn’t my Varic. He is never this quiet. Not even when he’s hurting, or tired.
And neither is Lars, which might be more concerning, as he stares down over the sorcerer paying the price for saving us all with his energy. Because if Varic, Lars, and Fray are all this silent, we can be sure the situation is grave.
Cirrin steps in, all attentiveness and care as he steadily unties the laces on each of Varic’s boots before turning around to place them by the door.
Varic releases a breath when his head falls back to the center of the fluffy down pillow. “Thank you,” he mutters, eyes closed. “I’ll only need a minute.”
A loud scoff tears from me, though my derision is the last thing he needs, and it is not lost on me how I have probably been guilty of saying the same.
Time passes slowly, and all I can do is stare down at him.
One, his chest rises, then falls. My heart sinks with a prickling sensation overtaking my skin.
Two—oh thank the Gods, his chest rises—and my heart and mind become enraptured in celebrating every rise of his chest while fear screams that each time it falls, it might be the last.
Each of my Guards meet my gaze when I finally tear mine away, needing their attention to explain something they may have already determined.
“I won’t be able to spare the magic to help you stay awake tonight.” Malin, Lars, Cirrin, and Fray nod. “Which means you’re going to need to take shifts—”
“No,” Varic interrupts.
I turn and quirk a brow at him, though his eyes remain closed. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“We will not be taking turns sleeping, if that’s what you meant.”
“You think you’ll be capable of using your magic at full strength without sleep?”
“We took a vow to guard you day and night. We maintain our vow.”
“Even when it would be safest for each of you to take turns getting rest?”
“Even then,” he says with a finality in his tone that would be useless to argue against.
I flop back on the pillow next to his head, with the space between us feeling infinite until his warm spice scent fills my lungs and a comforting heat rises from my chest.
“I will not break my vow to you only a few days after making it.”
I cock my head to the side and stare at him. “You’re serious.”
“I will not fail you—”
“You would not be failing me, Varic.”
“I—”
Cirrin clears his throat, interrupting our squabble as he stares down in question. “While you were sleeping, it felt like you were blocking my magic. I couldn’t determine where in your body you needed healing, nor could I imbue you.”
Pulse thrumming, I’m uncertain what to make of this, and I don’t want to worry them with Mirinea’s warning. Not after the night we’ve had.
Cirrin looks over at Varic before returning his attention to me.
“The only time I’ve experienced anything like it was when two of the strongest force sorcerers came to our school to demonstrate how they were able to actively block other forms of magic so that we knew how to recognize if someone were doing so.
” He pauses, eyes flitting to Varic. “My understanding is that only force sorcerers possess this ability, and even those with immense power and practice are not able to do so while unconscious.”
“But I didn’t notice anything different other than it felt as if I were close to dying.”
“What do you mean?” Varic asks, turning to me with his eyes flying open with alarm. “How did it feel like you were dying?”
“My heart felt weak, and it was hardly able to pump, like it was failing,” I state the obvious.
“And everything felt even more detached than a dream. I could hear you, but you sounded far away—muffled. Even your touch felt different. Strange, like my physical body didn’t fully experience it.
More like I was imagining an impression, like recalling the sensation of a hug from memory. ”
Varic’s eyes fall closed, and his breathing slows, giving rise to a new sort of anxiety because the stress of everything that has happened since that night on the balcony is far too much for any of us to carry, especially the one I know to contain more than anyone should.
Cirrin nods. “I need to try to see if I can feel it now that you’re awake.”
I offer him my hand, which he takes, then hold my breath as Varic rolls over to face me.
“Is that wise, Cirrin?” he asks, and my healer shrugs. “Perhaps we should let her rest and find another time to test this.”
“I wasn’t asking her to conjure it, just to let me check if any semblance of it can be felt.”
Varic nods his permission before turning back to me. “I have a theory, though it might not make much sense. I think, based on what you’ve described, it is possible you are so well-practiced with mentally warding that your own mind brought this on for you to conserve energy.”
Awareness slams into me, a tidal wave of every other time I’ve felt detached from my body or surroundings.
Carrying me under the barrage of memories until Varic says my name repeatedly, sounding closer each time he utters the syllables, until he finally cups my jaw in his hand and I see him, eyes scanning me with concern, lifting the longer I remain present with him.
“Shit, Tasch. Did my mere mention conjure it?” He looks up to Cirrin, who shrugs.
“I didn’t feel the block this time, so if it did, it wasn’t nearly as strong.”
“No,” I explain, shaking my head, loosening Varic’s hold on my face so I might think. “Just memories.”
Varic draws a deep breath while reluctantly retracting his hand from my cheek. “Would you care for me to explain more, since I happen to be the only one here who is trained in this form of magic?”
My lungs force out a quick breath in amusement, and I refrain from shaking my head at his pointed way of asking this. “You’re meant to be resting.”
“I am resting,” he says. “Next to you. In bed, if you hadn’t noticed.”
My body floods with heat and fluttering.
“Well, I am happy to report your heartbeat is much stronger now.” Cirrin’s eyes fill with mischief as his gaze drifts from me over to Varic.
“Any idea as to why I can’t seem to pull on my mental wards if I am ‘so well-practiced’ anytime I am awake and in your presence?
” I ask, in a futile attempt at diverting attention away from Cirrin’s observation, when Varic rolls his lips inward, and I regret ever asking as his eyes twinkle with some scheme he must be concocting while he prepares an answer for me.
“I seem to recall how you enjoy referring to me as your distraction.”
My jaw drops, and I raise a hand to swat at his chest without intent, yet something warm and comforting unfurls in my own when the corner of his mouth lifts in amusement.
“What do you notice when you’re mentally warding?” Varic asks, effectively practicing the definition of the term I’ve attributed to him, drawing my attention with the movement of his fingers releasing the top button of his uniform.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say honestly, earning a small smile from him as he works his way down the row of buttons securing the front of his uniform.
“What does it feel like when you pull on the wards?”
Twisting my lips to the side, I try to think how to best explain.
“Like there is a wall inside my mind which I am able to hide behind. Or a veil which drops down between me and the world, or sometimes it simply softens the emotions I’m detecting from others.
Other times it’s more like a giant steel door I can slide into place, then lock to make sure nothing else can get in. ”
Brows furrowed, he asks, “And you figured out how to do all of this on your own?”
“No. My grandmother—” I pause long enough to pinch my eyes shut before uttering the correct term for what she was at the time. “My mentor taught me.”
“Did you just say your grandmother?” he asks.
“Yes.” I release a breath. “Emperor Aldrich assigned my maternal grandmother as my mentor, knowing he could trust her to follow his orders—which had nothing to do with my bloodline, as one might expect.” He quirks a brow so I explain.
“She had been one of his most loyal spies. The best at keeping his secrets and extracting such from others in order to uphold his power with the kind of information I imagine would turn the strongest of stomachs.”
“I’m surprised he allowed you to have a mentor who would be kinder—”
“Ha!” I cut him off with a laugh. “No. If anything, my grandmother was selected because the Emperor was confident her penchant for cruelty far surpassed his own.”
Varic’s eyes darken as he seems to consider what I’ve said, rising to pry the top of his uniform from his shoulders, leaving his fitted black undershirt on.
“She was cruel to you, yet she taught you this protective skill requiring the use of unsanctioned magic.” His voice is thoughtful, pulling me with him as I never considered it the same.
“She never mentioned it was another form of magic, and since I never had reason to discuss the practice with anyone aside from her, I assumed she was teaching me to block my emotions and the feelings of others with the same power all witches are made to practice.”