Chapter Sixty-Seven #3
“It’s okay, Fray. What about you?” I ask, turning to Lars. “I assumed you would have been the first to reach me.”
“I was furious that a large part of the stage landed on my back, and I wasn’t strong enough to free myself. Malin ended up being the one to pry me out.”
“And do we just—” Fray begins, gesturing to the Prince who continues to take Varic’s ire without challenge. “Let whatever this is continue? Or should we go find somewhere to hide?”
I let out a breath and step forward, because while the royal does not seem to be in distress, I will be the one most capable of getting through to Varic. Yet Lars braces his arm before my chest, and I wince when Varic curls his fingers under the Prince’s collar as he yanks him closer.
“What were you thinking?” His voice carries across the clearing.
“Is it safe for us to be making this much noise?” Cirrin asks.
“I would like to say yes according to my magic,” Malin begins, “but since I was unable to detect the energy shift before the explosion, all I know is that most of the beings I can detect are indoors, while roughly twenty others are outside clearing the blast site.”
Varic’s arms flex against his leathers as he lifts the Prince off the ground, bringing him nose to nose. “You will never lay a hand on her again. Do you understand?”
The Prince nods. “Yes, I understand.”
“Good.” Varic’s voice is measured as he lowers him to the ground.
“You will refuse to touch her, even if your mother or our Emperor commands you otherwise.” He jabs his finger into the center of the Prince’s chest, while the royal nods in agreement.
“The only reason you are breathing is your pedigree. For if you did not possess the royal title for the land upon which we stand, I would have obliterated you the moment Tasch was safely removed from your arms.” His eyes narrow before he shoves the Prince in disgust.
Varic’s shoulders drop, and my heart follows, every part of me screaming with the need to go to him. The strength of his magnetic pull draws me closer, burning with the urge to bring him comfort.
He turns, and a shudder rolls down my body when the brightness in his eyes returns the moment he sees me, shining like a beacon between the thick black lines painted around them, the darkness of his mask, and the disheveled strands of his hair curving down over his brow.
I press against Lars, who relents and silently removes his arm from my path.
Prince Auden looks down at the grass where Varic last forced him to stand, yet I do not let his ability to witness this stop me from storming toward Varic as he does the same in my direction.
We meet each other halfway and stare into each other’s eyes until it feels as if we are the only two living beings in this clearing.
A palpable energy courses between our bodies while my chest fills with the need to relieve him of all he’s been forced to endure for me.
And it takes every bit of restraint to keep my arms fixed by my sides, with the tingling urge to grab hold of him only growing stronger.
The creases in the corners of his eyes relax the longer our breaths mingle in the sliver of air between our chests.
“Are you okay?” he asks, raising his hand to light off sparks along my skin as he strokes featherlight lines on the underside of my wrist.
“You already asked.” I stare down at the hand he raises, then holds between us. “Are you?” My heart constricts as the pain he feels is written within every line across his forehead.
His eyes betray what he’s trying to hide—the vast ocean of emotions beneath the tears welling within them.
This unfettered connection between us feels different with the way he looks at me now—like I am the most precious being, and he’s terrified that I might disappear should he take his eyes off me.
“What do you need, Varic? What can I do to reassure you?”
“You do not need to reassure me, mei waella.”
A small smile tugs on the corners of my lips while my fingertips trail mindlessly up his forearm. “I want to.”
His expression softens as he glances down to where I trace him, allowing my fingers to climb higher until I graze the swell of his bicep, then over to the center of his chest. I stare up at him with meaning as I press my hand to both hold and shield his heart all at once.
“I will.” My promise. My oath. My vow to him. “I want to take care of you, Varic.”
His eyes drift closed now that my touch allows him to pause his watch, and he leans closer to press his chest into my hold. Giving in to his need for pressure and comfort. Me.
“I know, mei meida.” His voice is tender as he covers my hand over his chest with his own.
He tips his head forward, and my heart flutters with anticipation of when his skin might touch my own, conjuring that heady feeling brought on by this particular expression of affection.
But the connection is forfeit as we snap our heads back in alarm when the acrid scent of smoke and a thickening gray haze flow over us, apparently carried by the wind from the site of the blast.
A collection of voices clamor, then shout a warning in my mind—
“Hide.”