Chapter Forty-Seven
Confrontation
Warm fingertips brush my hair back from my forehead, conjuring similar moments from the past—
My mother’s frigid fingers play with my hair while I lie back in bed, sick with fever.
My mentor tucks an unruly strand behind my ear as she admonishes, “I need you to focus, Tasch. This is important.”
Varic twirls a lock of my hair around his finger while we lie shoulder to shoulder, collectively staring up at the canvas. “I’ve never told anyone this,” he says, as a smile lifts the corners of my lips.
“It’s time to wake up, Tasch,” Malin says, hurtling me into consciousness.
“Hmm.” I blink back the sleep as his laugh dissipates the farther he moves away.
“May I?” Cirrin asks, and I nod in assent.
The chill of his magic fills me with energy as the distinct line of the afternoon sun slices through the center of the cabin.
Cirrin pats me before climbing down to the dusty road, where he pauses next to Fray, who makes a show of moving closer to his friend while putting more distance between himself and Drusilla.
Malin offers his hand, and part of me wishes it were Varic’s—until he comes into view and my heart lurches, because something is off with the way he stands, arms crossed as he looks off in the distance.
Drusilla stares up at me from where she stands next to Fray, seemingly mirroring Varic’s stance, and observing me with unnatural interest.
Which is the main reason I should address Varic’s mood at some other time. Yet my self-preservation skills tend to go dormant when in his presence, and I open my mouth despite my better judgment.
“What is it, Varic?” I pause on the stairs and effectively trap Malin behind me.
“We have stopped for luncheon.” His tone is dry, and he refuses to meet my eyes.
I scoff and reach for the railing just as Varic forcibly offers me his hand, which I refuse to take as I cautiously put my weight on each of the dew-slicked steps.
His nostrils flare in irritation as he returns his arm to cross his chest, appearing almost aggressive in his defensive stance. Despite his standoffish demeanor, some unknown force pulls me to stand before the haughty sorcerer.
Pride lifts my chin in challenge as he uncrosses his arms so abruptly it’s as if someone severed the rope that bound them to his chest.
Varic rolls his shoulders back while I hold his previous posture, staring until he meets my gaze—then immediately regrets encouraging the action when the mid-day sun amplifies the brightness in his irises.
“I need to speak with you,” he grits, piercing my heart with the harshness in his tone. “Privately.”
I scoff and turn to our audience, shoulders dropping in relief now that Drusilla has apparently gone to find our traveling party. The rest of my Guards pretend to observe the lush forest trilling with birdsong, as if they are not listening to every word exchanged between us.
“Lead the way.” I gesture in the opposite direction of the Emperor’s carriage.
Varic storms past me to a small opening in the tall trees—somewhere we can speak in relative privacy while everyone else gathers for refreshments.
Cirrin, Malin, Lars, and Fray stand far enough away that they shouldn’t hear us, while still close enough to protect me, should I need it.
Varic pivots to face me with a pace or so of space between our bodies, though with the years of tension held between us, it might as well be a thousand.
“What do you need to say, Varic?” My pulse pounds hard, and I mindlessly rub my arms to try to ward off the sinking feeling that there might be something other than my Guards watching.
He huffs out a breath and rakes his fingers through his hair. “It’s nothing.” He shakes his head and avoids my eyes better than he ever has before.
“It’s not nothing. While your vows did not mention being honest with me, I happen to value—”
Varic lunges forward until his forehead hovers just above my own.
“You claim to value honesty?” he asks through gritted teeth.
I lift up onto the balls of my feet and make the unwise decision of pressing my forehead into his, igniting a flame behind his irises, warming me everywhere—even my core. Flexing, I squeeze my thighs to try to simmer the way my body responds to his display of aggression.
“Then tell me, honestly, what it was you were thinking—” He tilts his head until his narrowed eyes are level with mine. “Tell me exactly what you were feeling when you stared at Drusilla’s hand clutching my own.”
I gasp and drop my heels back to the ground as my pulse pounds so heavily and loudly that it nearly drowns out all ambient sound.
“Huh.” One corner of his mouth rises, and that Godsdamned quirk in his cheek has me fighting off the monumental urge—the supernatural pull—to press my lips to that infuriating curve.
My refusal to give in takes every bit of resolve I have left to prevent my arms from rising, to keep my hands from caging his face and pulling him in so I might finally kiss that satisfied smirk off him.
“Jealous?” His smirk deepens and very nearly convinces me it is my sworn duty to remove it from his being.
“No.”
His brows furrow. “Yet you claim to value honesty.”
“I do.”
“So then why are you lying?”
“Because I wasn’t jealous.” He scoffs, and I pause with intention. “I was envious.”
A knowing look replaces his confident expression, decreasing my need to pull him into a forbidden kiss.
“Possessive.”
Varic raises his chin and takes in every ugly part I offer him.
I lean closer, erasing the space required for any semblance of restraint when I admit what I really feel for him. “Greedy.”
“Never greedy.” He lunges forward with such force that he must feel the frenzied beat of my heart with our chests pressed so close together. “It is not greedy to want what is yours, Tasch. Not when it is given freely.”
My lungs sting, chest heaving with every erratic breath I pull in.
“Since you so honestly shared how you felt, should I do the same?” he asks in a low tone, while a tingling sensation spirals down to my core.
I stifle a moan and clench to little effect.
“Can you imagine me experiencing what you described for yourself when I discovered your sleeping head cradled on Malin’s lap? ”
He presses in again, and I swallow nothing, unable to ignore how anyone passing by might happen upon us at any time.
“Though I absolutely am greedy when it comes to you, Tasch,” he rasps, gaze drifting down to where my chest constricts after years of yearning for this.
I lick my lips, having fantasized about this moment for years—though I can’t go through with it. We cannot risk innocent lives for such selfishness.
He straightens, and my heart drops, though it’s best if we stand further apart.
“Imagine the way it felt to look through the window, expecting to find you sitting upright, to not see any sign of you at all.” His eyes scan my face as she comes forward, donning the armor required to survive this.
She ensures I convey nothing, guarding my heart so well it becomes as impenetrable as the Imperial Palace.
“My heart dropped to my stomach.” Varic’s voice wavers, and the pain resonating within his admission obliterates every safeguard she tries to maintain.
A buzzing sensation trills through my body with his confession, indicating more than the promises contained within the vow, almost convincing me his feelings could be more than misplaced fealty.
“I lost all sense,” he says. “I rapped on the glass so hard I’m surprised it remained intact.
I still don’t know how the sound didn’t wake you.
” His expression shifts, and I want to bring him closer.
“I demanded they tell me where you were. I was so desperate for answers, I nearly commanded the driver to halt so I might check for myself when Cirrin and Fray gestured that you were sleeping. And when I realized where you were lying down, and who you were lying on—” He moves closer, and our chests press together as I avert my gaze to his pulse pounding alongside his throat.
“It took everything in me—and I mean everything—to keep from stopping the carriage while I ruminated over how doing so would allow me to drop to the road so I could tear open the door and make Malin trade places with me.”
He shakes his head and steps back, allowing the air to flow between our bodies. His eyes dart around the ground where he mindlessly toes a fallen tree limb.
Of course, he would feel protective of me after all the support I provided in his darkest time.
Especially now that he’s promised to return the favor as my Lead Guard.
He admitted as much to the Emperor only yesterday.
With his need to be the one offering me his hand—to be the one taking care of me—it is all understandable, given our history.
My hands itch with the need to embrace him, regardless of how inappropriate it is to entertain his misplaced compassion.
“The entire ride, knowing you only did what I asked you to do. The very thing you once begged me to practice, explaining how it was the only way I would survive when you left.” His voice shakes, and terror infiltrates my veins as I hold his gaze.
“I was livid. Irate. Irrationally angry. I needed to be the one taking care of you.” His eyes glimmer back at me every time the sun breaks through the leaves. “Not him.” His voice cracks as he glances toward Malin, blocking our view of the road.
“I can’t handle standing by and watching—” His voice trails off as his eyes clench shut. Then he takes several steps toward me and nearly closes the distance he created.
I can’t take any more of this. I can’t keep from telling him where his feelings stem from.
“Allow me to make sure I understand.” I reach across the slip of air between us, encouraging his eyes to fly open, then soften the moment they find mine.
“You claim to be incapable of tolerating my Guards providing me with the support you made me promise to request, then you experience distress when you find I am taking a much-needed nap if it means my head is resting on anyone else’s lap? ”