Chapter Forty-One
Secret
Sharp pain stabs inside my brain, and the muscles running along the sides of my spine throb. Groaning, I feel around and scratch my fingertips on the rough stone behind me, then furrow my brow with the weight and clanking of metal over my wrists.
“Tasch, you’re awake.” Varic’s voice is so faint, I might just be imagining it.
I pry my eyes open to try to make sense of my surroundings, while every breath I pull in is filled with his warm spice scent.
The ache in my joints burns when I shift under the weight of a heavy material sliding down my shoulder.
Blinking, I try to will my eyes to adjust to the low light, aside from the amber glowing from my own body, which pulls my attention to the black leather riding jacket falling down from my shoulders.
One which Varic must have draped across my chest because it smells just like him.
“I’m so sorry, Tasch. I never imagined—” Varic says, warming me as he leans into my side.
My eyes dart around the bare stone space for the rest of my Guards, though I can scarcely make out any details in the dim light that barely reaches from the opposite side of what appears to be a narrow room.
“Where is everyone?” I manage, staring down in disbelief as my fingers seek and curve around metal shackles surrounding each of my wrists, with the bite of metal entirely absent from the layer of protection Varic’s shield offers.
Tears form as I feel my way down my legs to confirm the metal is also circling both of my ankles, barely noticeable with the pulsing warmth of Varic’s protection, which he seems to be casting differently, as it’s brighter and thicker, while only covering anywhere the metal touches me instead of my whole body..
Even though I know the answer, my hands tremble as I reach up to find a metal ring around my neck.
“The Emperor commanded Cirrin and Malin practice sword fighting, deeming it a necessity for your protection.” He pulls the top of his riding leathers back over my shoulders and smooths the arms out to hug me with the heat from my body held in the liner, his scent a comfort with every breath, despite the otherwise dire circumstances.
“Fray and Lars are in the dark corner. I suggested they sleep.”
Gooseflesh rises along the sides of my cheeks. “He didn’t want Cirrin to heal me.”
“Or Malin to free you. And I was too afraid to try healing you in your sleep, since I could have hurt you without knowing.” An amber glow fills his palms, appearing more like a cloud than the bolts of energy which emit when he charges to blast his force magic.
“No.” I shift the shackles over my lap to gesture with my hands.
“Yes.” His voice is adamant as I rather aggressively release a breath.
“What if the Guards posted outside the door sense you using it?”
“Only one of them is telekinetic. The other one is a healer.”
“Which is why you cannot heal me. What if the telekinetic Guard says something?”
“I’ve already healed you once.”
“You said you were too afraid to heal me while I slept.”
“It was on the way in here, when Cirrin was present and able to help guide me—silently,” he adds, and I send him a look.
“He wanted to make sure I could do so properly. I just couldn’t bring myself to try again once he was made to leave, since he wouldn’t be able to repair anything I damaged.
I couldn’t risk it.” Silence settles over the room as the healing magic undulates like a low-hanging fog, hovering just above his cupped palms.
“You shouldn’t have.”
“I wasn’t going to let you suffer.” He pushes off the wall to turn until his eyes meet mine. “Not when it’s safe for me to prevent it.”
His expression shifts, ensnaring me in his gaze as he holds his hands out in question. I nod, against my better judgment, while tears stream down my face, creating a trail many others will likely follow.
He reaches under the leathers draped across my chest to take hold of my arm, and I suck in a sharp breath when the cooling sensation penetrates beneath my skin before coursing through my body to soften the sharp edges of my pain.
He retracts the unsanctioned magic once he does all he can.
Its impact feels fainter than Cirrin’s—which isn’t a fair comparison, since my healer is the strongest and has many years of practice.
An unexpected consequence of Varic reliving my pain hits me, and hot tears expel the anger and frustration wrought from the Emperor’s intentions in physically chaining me.
“I am so sorry, Tasch. I never should have brought you back here. Fray and Lars were right. We should have kept going. I have regretted my decision every moment since Minea landed in the clearing.”
My throat is so dry that I halt mid-swallow, and he pulls me closer, tipping my chin as he looks down on me with sympathy. His eyes shine back so clearly in the dim light, and I struggle to withhold a sob, apparently confusing him.
“I thought it was the safest decision based on everything I knew at the time.” Varic leans in closer, the area where his body connects with mine being the only part of me bearing any warmth.
“I thought I could keep you safer here than being on the run without resources. I’m so sorry, mei waella. I severely fucked up.”
“Have you forgotten my refusal to adhere to any plan aside from coming back here?”
He drops his gaze as the sting of shame travels through our connection from him. “I have been in charge of your safety for three days and have already failed you.”
My chest constricts as he shifts back to drop his forehead in the crook of my neck, stealing my breath the moment he presses a kiss to the bare skin along my collarbone.
Sparks scatter and fire off, creating a distraction that makes me pause longer than I mean to before telling him, “You didn’t do this, Varic. ”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t stop him, even though you have done nothing to deserve this sort of treatment.”
A small laugh finds its way out of me, accompanied by another burst of tears I wish I could hold in.
“The only way to stop him would be to kill him, and your magic would have killed everyone in the room had you attempted.”
“Says the witch who has yet to witness how much I have improved my blasting abilities.”
“I also know how fiercely protective you are toward the same witch you credit with being the reason you live, and how intense emotions like this can impact precision.”
He releases a breath, muscles slackening as he deflates, giving me his heat along the sliver of skin covered by nothing other than silk where the hem of his riding leathers ends.
“What reason did he cite for chaining me to a wall in this mystery room?”
Varic leans his head back against the stone to look up at me as he sighs. “Supposedly he’s questioning whether or not he can trust you.”
“And does he mean to keep me here until he determines whether he can or cannot?”
“I think we all know the shackles are meant as a tangible reminder of his power over you.”
A laugh bursts from my chest, and I go to cover my mouth before halting midway with the chains rattling.
“How exactly are you able to find humor in this?”
“How can I not?” I raise my wrists to display the metal rings, shifting the riding leathers up to pool around my neck.
“I’m the one he demands to settle his mood and manipulate those who would otherwise distress him.
Yet I make one wrong guess as to how he wishes me to word a single sentence, in a game where he set me up to fail, giving him the excuse to toss me in a—I don’t know what to refer to this space, since we’ve always been told there aren’t prison cells in the Imperial Palace. ”
Varic reaches for my hands where I’ve set them in my lap and takes the one closest to him. I mindlessly rub the pad of my thumb over each of his calluses, already beginning to soften in his new role with less training required for combat.
“As far as I can tell,” he begins. “It is a secret room in the Emperor’s chambers.”
A shudder rolls through me, considering what purpose he could have for a room like this.
“If you thought he wanted to test your resolve by publicly shaming me after your vow, I would guess he is doing so in the extreme with this experiment. Learning how you will react. How far he can push us before we bend, or break.” His shoulders lift with a deep intake of breath.
“It feels selfish to admit, however, I think seeing you in chains is meant to be just as much of a punishment for me.” Varic squeezes my hand twice—the same amount my Guards use for affirmation.
“I’m going to ask for some water and a blanket. ”
He stands and strides to the door, leaving a notable chill in his absence, creeping over every inch of skin where his body warmed my own.
I pull the leathers up as far as I can, cheeks flaming when he turns to look at me with a smirk, his eyes playfully studying the way I’ve dropped forward to pull in a breath of his scent.
Something about this reminds me of the last time I was conscious—when I was naked in the sunken tub—meaning someone pulled me from the water. Dried me. Dressed me. Then carried me in here.
Varic returns without a word as he lowers himself with caution, leaning into me while settling my nerves. I nearly keep my concerns to myself, not wanting to ruin this moment of peace, as we don’t get many.
“Who pulled me out of the tub?” I blurt.
Varic’s eyes cast down, and his jaw feathers while the bated silence between us quickens my pulse, throbbing with the pressure building inside my skull.
My fears multiply, taking up space I do not have to spare.
The answer is obvious, since Drusilla doesn’t possess the strength and the Emperor would never stoop to perform such a menial task, regardless of how little he wants others to touch me.
“Who dressed me?” My throat constricts when he refuses to answer. If it had been Drusilla, he would say so. “Who carried me?”