Chapter Forty-Eight
Lucky
If I could trade being trapped in this carriage for the shackles in the Emperor’s secret room, I would make that deal without blinking.
Regardless of the size of this cabin, I could swear the walls swell inward.
I’ve traced every decorative element what must be a thousand times, at least, needing anything to capture my interest and help me forget how much longer we are meant to be trapped like this.
Yet the wheels amble on, kicking up dust and dirt from the road, and no amount of stating my need to escape this mobile prison will possibly make any difference.
Varic shifts beside me, and I wince as my jaw twinges, increasing the tension to the point I might crack a molar when he reaches across my chest to brace me when the cabin lurches.
His fingers curve around my thigh furthest from him as he squeezes, keeping me in place while my heart hammers at Drusilla’s cheeks drawing back.
Despite it being safest for Varic to remove his hand, I rue the moment he releases his grip, taking his warmth and comfort with him. My chest constricts from what little air filters into my lungs, feeling far too thin and in no way sufficient.
I look to Cirrin in desperation for something to fill my mind. Needing a distraction—a different sort of healing, from him.
“Would you tell us a story?”
He lifts his gaze from the storybook he’s read from every day I have known him. “Of course. Any particular sort you’re in the mood for?”
“A new one, if you care to make one up so quickly.”
“If I care to make one up so quickly,” he mocks, grin widening. “You wound me with your lack of faith in my imagination.”
I mirror his expression as appreciation blooms beneath my ribs.
He snaps the book shut and stuffs it in his pocket, then settles back with his hands crossed over his lap. His deep brown eyes flash with excitement—a tell-tale sign his story is forming.
“There once was a young witch who loved exploring so much she would sneak out of her cabin at all hours to traipse through the forest. The problem was, she ignored the warnings her grandmother gave about creatures who steal the young away to their dens.”
I lean to the side, and he scoots in, allowing me to drop my temple to rest on his shoulder, with the cadence of his voice soothing me to sleep without the need for his magic.
“Tasch, I need you to wake up,” Varic commands.
My eyes fly open, and I jerk upright with the sense of urgency rippling from him through my magic.
His force-shield pulses around both Cirrin and me, leaving the rest of them unguarded.
“What’s happening? And why are you only shielding me and Cirrin?”
His mouth opens to answer when the carriage squeaks as it rocks from one side to the other. The view through the small windows is useless in showing us what is happening, as all we can see is the surrounding forest with no sign of Malin or Fray.
Drusilla remains asleep through the havoc, and I send my magic to check on everyone else in the cabin. The bright red of anxiety expands inside both Cirrin and Lars’ chests while Varic somehow remains calm, as if he is so used to certain types of terror that it no longer affects him as it should.
Lars’ skin has turned ashen, so I send him a sense of peace, needing him to believe his love will soon return to him. He turns and locks eyes with me, and my heart skips a beat when his expression softens.
“He’s going to be okay. He will come back soon and tell us what’s happened.”
Lars nods, though it’s obvious my words have no power to influence whatever is happening. Or do I?
I close my eyes and send a wave of curiosity out past the carriage, then gasp once I latch on to something: fear and amusement.
“I think I just found him with my influence, and as far as I can tell, he’s amused.”
“What do you mean?” Lars’ voice betrays his fear, apparently building after the peace I shared with him.
“I sent my magic out to find them, and while there is fear present, there was also amusement.”
Varic sighs. “You shouldn’t be using so much of your magic.”
Lars leans forward as we collectively ignore Varic’s comment. “You’re sure it’s him? ‘Amusement’ isn’t typically an emotion I would attribute to Malin.”
I subdue a laugh. “Yes, I am quite familiar with his emotional signature.”
Lars seems to believe me as he relaxes his posture.
Cirrin, however, continues to bounce his leg, shaking the cushion beneath us. I set my hand on his knee as the heat only Varic brings creeps up and across my chest, searing a trail everywhere he observes my being.
“May I?”
“Sure,” Cirrin says.
I seek out his fear and absorb what I can when I’m launched to the side, and my shoulder slams into his ribs—the carriage then rights itself, shaking back and forth from the impact of whatever the fuck just slammed into us.
Malin’s voice grows closer, and we all freeze to try to hear what he’s yelling.
I focus my magic on Cirrin’s emotions while drawing on the comfort he has brought me, feeling a genuine sense of gratitude for his compassion as well as his ability.
I send him the same, helping to calm his anxiety when the latch slides and the door swings open.
We all stare at the door and yell, “Malin!”
“Sorry!” Malin braces his forearms before his chest, defending against Lars’ attack as he smacks the sorcerer anywhere he’s able to reach him.
“Explain,” Varic commands.
Malin sends Lars a look as he shows no signs of stopping.
“Enough!” Cirrin cries.
Malin nods to him in thanks, now that Lars finally pauses his assault.
He swipes the long, dampened strands within the knot atop his head.
Then his gaze pins Lars as he grabs hold of his wrist to pull him closer while grabbing the back of his neck with his opposite hand to press their foreheads together.
My cheeks heat with the intensity of their connection, so much so that I feel guilty for staring.
“Breathe, mei frent. I am here and unharmed. Please, breathe.”
Lars does as he says and pulls in a deep breath, then drops lower to plant a kiss on Malin’s knuckles. A small smile plays over Malin’s lips as he slowly releases his hold.
Fray strides to the open doorway, dark brows furrowed as he peeks into the cabin. “Are we ready to go?”
“No!” we all shout, with the exception of Drusilla, as she’s still left unconscious.
“Explain,” Varic repeats his command.
Lars reaches down to hold Malin’s hand, and I can’t help but smile when he kisses the back, especially with the way he turns to the side, seemingly to hide the action from Drusilla, who still appears to be sleeping.
Though she has little reason to report their connection, since His Majesty seems far more concerned with keeping Varic and me from engaging in anything more intimate, despite the fact that it is forbidden for all of us.
“It’s nothing dangerous, so you don’t need to maintain that.” Malin separates from Lars to nod toward the force-shield.
Varic narrows his eyes and maintains the shield regardless.
“It was just snuffers,” Malin reports.
I quirk a brow at him. “The hogs farmers train to track rare mushrooms?”
“Three adult males,” Fray says. “One was the size of a bear. Who knew they could grow so large and would be aggressive enough to charge at a carriage?”
“Anyone who knows what manner of creatures live in these woods.” I glance around, surveying everyone’s expressions. “Are you all truly so ignorant as to what resides in the forest we happen to be traveling within for several days on end?”
They respond by blinking, and I drop my face to my open palms. “You mean to tell me that while you stay awake all night, none of you thought to research the route so you would be informed of what dangers you might need to defend me against?”
“Hey!” Fray exclaims. “We needed to make sure the swine ambush wasn’t a diversion, when the real threat could have been anywhere.”
The back of my head hits the padded backrest as a sigh slowly seeps from me.
“Anyone need to take care of any needs while we’re stopped?” Fray asks.
“Me.” I rise to stand as Varic jolts forward, leaning toward the center of the cabin.
“I suppose I’ll wake her, just in case,” Cirrin says, staring over at us before releasing Drusilla from her slumber.
Lars exits, then offers me his hand to help me down the shallow stairs.
Malin stands still until I playfully backhand his bicep, to which he animatedly rubs where my knuckles made contact.
I shake my head as we move toward the heavier tree cover when a hand encircles my arm, and my lungs fill with the warm spice scent emanating from Varic’s uniform.
He bends toward me until his lips barely brush the outer edge of my ear. “Wait.”
His touch, his voice, the lack of distance between us beckons her to come forward. The Imperial Grand Witch takes over as I require her steely reserve to help me resist the temptation that is Varic.
“Wait for what, Imperial Lead—?”
“Please don’t.” He releases my arm as a spark of disappointment pierces the veil she’s draped us in, absorbing the disgust rippling through his skin as satisfaction whirls beneath my own.
I attempt to turn and tell him exactly what I will do when I stumble over a pebble and force Varic’s lips to press in the center of my forehead, the contact resembling a heartfelt kiss given before an important event.
The accidental gesture throws me off worse as I try to right myself, when Varic takes hold of my arms and steadies me before him. We stand like this, staring back at each other while my heart hammers, until leaves and twigs crunch around us from the rest of my Guards moving in closer.
“You said we are safe, yet you are all going to stand around while I relieve myself?” I ask, hoping they’ll afford me some privacy.
“Do you not want us to prevent the fungus-sniffing hogs from bowling you over when you’re squatting low to the ground?” Lars asks.