Chapter Fifty
Doubt
Two Days Later
Botanical silhouettes dance over the peaks of Varic’s cheekbones, while shadows from swaying leaves cast across the unnatural brightness behind his irises, and the sun filtering in only serves to amplify their luminance.
I pull in a deep, cleansing breath for the first time since we stopped for luncheon. Thankful for Drusilla’s decision to return to the carriage, while we stretch our legs in the forest before traveling further.
Varic glances over with a subtle furrow in his brow. “I’ve been thinking I should train you on how to wield a blade, just in case we are ever blocked from accessing our magic.”
A smile creeps up the side of my mouth as it seems my Guards have failed to inform Varic of everything they have trained me in when it comes to self-defense. His expression of concern is so sincere, I cannot help but lift my brow in acceptance of the challenge he’s given me without realizing.
I swivel to face Fray as he strides alongside me, and my grin widens when his own glints back, because Varic might also be unaware of Hendry’s affectionate term for us. Yet if I am reading Fray’s expression correctly, we are about to offer him a stunning introduction to the Twin Flames of Chaos.
I arch a brow at Fray, to which he nods once in affirmation. Then everything occurs in a blur—
Fray detaches the strap securing his dagger while I reach up to take hold of its grip. I spin my body around so fast I catch Varic off guard and slam my forearm into his chest, forcing him to step backward until his spine meets the wide trunk of an old oak tree.
“Oof.” His eyes dart around, seemingly in shock at my handiwork.
Our chests heave together, making it impossible for him to observe the way my right hand presses the flat of the blade to his pulse point, touching his skin just enough to let him know it exists.
Or how I hold the pointer finger of his dominant hand with my left in threat, as I could easily snap it with one quick move.
I hitch my body to the side and force his legs wider to rob him of any stability, then press the heel of my boot to the top of his foot and secure his opposite.
Even though he is significantly stronger, he would risk me cutting his carotid if I were to press the sharp side to his neck, only to stumble with a broken finger should he try to attack me.
“You could have just told me you’ve been trained,” Varic says, convincing no one with his smug expression.
“Would you have believed me, or would you have asked for a demonstration?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Both. Though a modicum of warning would be nice.”
“But not nearly as entertaining,” Lars chimes in.
“Or hilarious,” Fray says, appearing as pleased as I’ve ever seen him. “I wish we could have a painting made. I think this would be a pleasant image to hang by your bed, don’t you, Tasch?”
Varic narrows his eyes at them in feigned annoyance.
“Tasch, please be careful,” Cirrin says, bracing a hand over his forehead. “While I am capable of healing a sliced artery and a broken ankle, I’d prefer not to.”
“I promise to be careful,” I say, looking up at the playfulness emanating from Varic’s expression while he shares the feeling itself with me.
“I still have a free hand, you know.” He produces said hand by shaking it.
“Go on, then. Show me what an assailant would do with this free hand.”
His eyebrows rise, and he hesitates long enough for me to extend the arm holding the blade just enough to capture his outstretched fingers between my arm and chest, all while holding his other hand hostage, which has to hurt from the angle I’m gripping it.
“You know I can overpower you any second.” His voice is low as he drops his forehead over my own.
“I am aware this is nothing like a truly life-threatening situation.” My joints scream from holding the pose too long, though Varic does not seem to be complaining about my pinning him against a tree with a dagger pressed to the tender flesh of his throat.
And even though His Majesty will be expecting us back any moment, I cannot seem to make myself move away from him.
“I merely wanted to prove that you were wrong to assume Hendry failed to train me in defense, were our magic ever made inaccessible. Like you said.” I release some of the tension in my muscles as he leans in, pressing against the blunt metal, which I hold too close to his pulse point, so I loosen my grip on the blade to make sure I do not nick his skin.
“You worry about my opinion of Hendry, whereas I see a witch who paid attention well enough to recall how to take an assailant. And in such a way as to have the upper hand, were it truly a life-threatening situation.” His eyes sparkle with mischief as he narrows them for emphasis. “I see a witch who wants to live.”
His cheeks rise in a smile as the meaning of his words permeates, sinking in until I have to acknowledge the truth in them.
Because he is right. Learning how to fight did feel empowering, with Hendry helping me to care enough and pay close attention.
I took him and his lessons seriously any time we had a moment to train without the Emperor knowing.
The light behind Varic’s eyes still shines from within, though some sense of knowing now ripples through them.
My body moves without my influence, and I carefully relinquish my hold as I take a step backward. Though it feels as if some part of me stays—hovering—connected to him in ways I cannot begin to explain.
This sorcerer understands my inner workings.
He recognizes those long-lost parts and reflects them back so I might know each fragment.
Helping me to know who I am—or who I could be, were we given the freedom.
Aiding me in returning to something resembling a whole being.
My essence—that which he extracts from me so effortlessly, enabling me to connect each thread into a wider tapestry, weaving in the frayed strings over threadbare spaces.
Allowing me the clarity to see their design for what feels like the very first time.
“Tasch.” His voice is gruff with emotion.
I meet his gaze, and my heart leaps before I turn and offer Fray his dagger.
“Hey,” Varic says, and I flinch, as this forest doesn’t offer enough acreage to avoid the area of his influence. “What is it? Is it Hendry?”
Some power I cannot name pulses through me, and I stare at the ground until it expels from me in a torrent—
“No!” My scream echoes through the trees, and birds fly off from me scaring them, though the voice did not sound like my own. It was as if it were delivered to our ears from somewhere distant and older.
Awareness ripples through me, and I can say with startling clarity that someone from the past is communicating through me. Bringing with it a sense of familiarity—of an innate connection—with a being channeling their anger so I might be their voice.
Varic clasps my shoulders, and I cannot deny him. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
A laugh rings from my chest as I glance between each of my Guards. “Whatever I tell you, I tell them.”
His face falls as he steps too close, should anyone find us. I shake my head and turn away as he releases me to comb his fingers through his thick brown waves. “I’m sorry. I was too intense, again.”
“You’re always intense, Varic.”
His laughter and the mirthful glint in his eye settle my nerves enough to admit, “I think the dead might be speaking through me, and it seems to happen around the times we are allowed outside.”
Every pair of eyes around me widens, and I swallow the laugh pressing in on my larynx.
“Then there’s the visions which I assume have been sent to me by the Dragons.”
“What?” Malin’s brows rise.
“The first time it happened was right before we met—” I gesture to Varic. “I sensed a strange presence within the Temple of the Dragon at your encampment. It drew my attention, and I believe it sent me visions—images of the tent you were sequestered in, and your eyes.”
“My eyes?”
“Yes,” I say, staring into the same. “Impossibly bright brown—unlike anything I’d ever seen before, or since.”
Varic stares at me, entranced, seemingly just as powerless to break our eye contact.
“You never said anything about receiving visions,” Malin says.
“You didn’t think to mention this at any time in the years since it happened?
You never thought to tell your Guards, who are meant to know every possible threat to your being?
” His chest heaves now that he’s finished admonishing me.
And I don’t ask his permission, I just siphon some of his incredulity and fear to help him relax until his shoulders fall, then I retract my magic.
“I didn’t understand what had happened at the time.
But I promise, I didn’t keep this to myself on purpose.
We did not have the privacy to speak about it on the way to Varic’s tent.
Then, if you can imagine, I became a bit distracted.
” Figurative flames lick the center of my chest, then rise to settle in my cheeks.
“Whereas the sensation of something taking over my being in an expulsion of anger happened right after Varic’s blood-bonding ceremony with Minea.
If you recall, I was growling at him for refusing to let me walk up the stairway on my own.
” Nods and murmurs confirm they remember.
“Then just now, when I said ‘no’—did anyone else notice a difference in the tone?”
“Yes, it sounded…old,” Cirrin says, looking at the leaves scattered on the ground.
“It felt old, too.”
“What do you know?” Lars asks while staring at Varic, who appears to be lost in thought.
“There was chatter among the soldiers previously stationed at the southern borders who told stories of witches with spirits who spoke through them. ‘Enthrallment,’ I think they called it. Supposedly, the spirit would place the witch under a spell in order to inhabit their vessel.” His eyes never stray from me as he explains.
“I remember my father mentioning something about this,” Lars says, having grown up with a scholar. “Though I don’t recall if he ever went into much detail, since it wouldn’t have been relevant for me to memorize at the time.”
“Did the soldiers ever mention how it happens, or how to prevent it?” Cirrin asks.
“It seems to be controlled by the spirits, and they never mentioned anything about preventing it.”
“How are we going to protect you from something we cannot see?” Fray asks.
“What makes you think I need to be protected from this?”
“Do you want spirits to inhabit your body?” Fray asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Nothing bad has happened to make me fear the presence. If anything, it feels familiar and furious. Though not at me.”
Varic releases a breath, and my heart hammers in my chest as I work up the nerve to add what I need to say next. “Malin?”
“No one is coming. And I will alert you if they do.”
I nod once in thanks. “I’m not sure if it is related, but I can also apparently block a Dragon from telepathically communicating with me.
” Fear stares back from behind each of my Guards’ eyes.
“Mirinea warned me that this is a dangerous ability which could get me, and anyone connected to me, killed, explaining that I was not to tell anyone. However, I do think I should have told all of you. We’ve just been busy dodging bombs ever since she brought this to my attention. ”
“Fuck.” Varic pales and then drops, folding down to hover over the balls of his feet with his hands clasping either side of his skull.
I rush closer when Lars and Fray step to either side of his body. They each offer him a hand, then help pull him to stand.
“That’s…you…” Varic rakes both hands through his hair, now that he’s straightened. His gaze roves my face as everything in my body screams for him to say what he’s thinking.
“Fuck!” He looks up at the sky before enveloping my frigid fingers within the warmth of his own. We turn and look at Malin, who nods to confirm we are still safe to talk.
“First, you blocked Cirrin’s healing in your sleep, and now you’ve learned you can block an Elder Dragon’s telepathy without even trying?” He searches my expression before adding, “We can’t let anyone know you have ever been capable of warding, especially not with the strength of your power.”
Tears spring to my eyes as he circles the center of my palm with the pad of his thumb. “We already knew you’d been using force magic, but this proves that your ability surpasses any documented.”
“They’re coming,” Malin reports.
My heart lodges in my throat when Varic leans in to whisper, “Blocking telepathy is not something we are trained to do, because no sorcerer has ever been powerful enough to achieve this type of warding. It has only ever been something theorized as a possibility. That, perhaps with advancements in training, we might one day achieve.” He leans back and pins me with a meaningful look.
“I am believed to be the strongest force sorcerer in the Empire, and yet I cannot imagine the skill required to block something as strong as a Dragon’s telepathy. ”
His explanation evokes the kind of emotions I would need to expel by screaming as my stomach churns. So overcome with this nauseating sensation, I may lose the lunch I made myself eat.
“I don’t understand. I don’t know how to use this. I’ve never even tried.” Of course, you have, the Imperial Grand Witch imparts from the recesses of my mind. How else do you think we’ve survived?
Varic’s expression grows worried the longer I stare off in the distance, unable to hide the desperation growing within as he pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me for one quick squeeze as he siphons the bulk of my distress.
My heart drops when he relinquishes his hold, though his eyes remain on me as he steps away.
A tingling sensation remains everywhere his body was connected with my own, until the pulsing warmth of his magic takes his place, embracing me with the shimmering amber shield. Protecting me and offering a modicum of comfort now that the Emperor and his Guards are approaching.