Chapter Eighty-Seven
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Tasch
My stomach plummets as Fray soars higher.
Was that him? Was that Varic’s voice I just heard?
Certainty swirls through me with the conviction that it had to be him. Swearing it must have been Varic’s voice I heard through all the screaming. Remembering how it felt to receive that warming sensation crawling over my skin. Knowing in the moment it had to be Varic sending his love to find me.
For I cannot deny the sensation of heat building beneath my skin—the same as every other time his gaze has traced my form. Yet he could not have seen me standing there, or else his shield would have covered me.
If it had just been the emotion, I would have no doubt that this clever sorcerer imbued me. I would have no reason to question whether or not he sent me this message in the same way we have communicated when needing to do so without detection.
I want to believe it was him. But the heat I felt brews a sort of doubt which twists my stomach, and I swallow against the pressure as it rises.
No matter how much I want to believe it couldn’t have been my magic forcing me to re-experience an intensely visceral memory.
I sensed it so distinctly, without his stare there to distract me.
How the warmth of his affection climbed steadily from where it began in the center of my chest—then my heart lurches—because this heat isn’t something my magic is capable of conjuring.
Not even from such a strong memory. Meaning every other time I have flushed in Varic’s presence, it has been from the love he feels for me, sinking in beneath my skin, sent through our uncanny connection.
Fray holds my head against his chest, and I try to shift away from the fragile glass vial he wears beneath his leathers, his attachment to the object being something I intend to protect.
A necessary bit of sentimentality we are too often forbidden from engaging in.
I wriggle within his grip until the shape of the vessel can no longer be felt under my cheek, then let out a breath as I rest against his shoulder.
Pain stabs throughout my chest as I do my best to hold in every stubborn cry that refuses to die out.
Each one clambers its way up my esophagus, where I appease the need to let them out in hurried whimpers.
Then my chest constricts with the hope I haven’t alerted Fray to my distress, the wind buffeting around us.
He tilts his chin to look down at me. “You okay?”
An odd sort of laugh rends from my stomach, and it shakes against Fray’s.
“Of course you’re not okay. The fucking Throne Room exploded.”
“Oh! That’s not the half of it!”
“What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side to look at me.
“Ha! Do you want the terrible news or the worst news?”
“Uh, the worst news?”
“Have you happened to notice how our ruler has been moving with exceptional grace?”
“Yes, and how he’s been oddly energetic and seems to be stronger and healthier than ever.”
“Well, would you believe he so proudly explained that he has achieved his goal and is now immortal?”
Fray halts his trajectory to hover above the pointed tips of the trees.
“You’re fucking serious?”
I nod, and he releases a heavy breath.
“Wait. When did he have time to tell you this?”
“When you were all fucking with the General.”
His brows furrow.
“When Malin, Varic, and Cirrin were all sending their magic up to mess with Sal.”
“And when did the Emperor disclose this?”
“When he commanded I walk to the edge of the stage with him.”
“But you stood in your designated place the whole ceremony.”
“Fuck.” I cast my gaze outward, as if the answers lie somewhere above the pines. “That’s what I worried you might have been spelled to believe.”
“What in the Continent are you on about?”
“I saw a weird warbling magic surrounding all of you when I tried to imbue you with a sense of urgency after the Emperor claimed we were to be married.”
Fray’s eyes widen until the full circle of his irises is visible. “What in the fuck did you just say?”
“Would you prefer to land before I explain?”
He releases a heavy breath. “Yeah, I probably should.”
He flies slower than he had before, though still fast enough to blend the shapes of the landscape below.
Fray drifts above what appears to be a thick blanket of fog, pocked with the pointed peaks of evergreens.
He careens us over to hover above a wide circle absent of anything striking through before we descend in the center of it.
My skirts billow upward along with a shudder as the damp fog covers our already freezing forms in slick, frigid mist.
My eyelids stick as I try to blink until I’m able to squint, and our boots crunch down over the thin blanket of ice coating every dead stalk of grass.
The forest is made up of the same pine trees surrounding the Imperial Palace, yet the fog above seems to amplify the moonlight, casting ominous shadows to contrast with the strangely ethereal brightness.
Something in the looming line of fog overhead pulls on a heavier sense of dread than every fear of the unknown creatures lurking behind our backs.
Fray releases the harness from around my back, and I sway in place while the chill wind burns every inch of my exposed skin. Though the sting is a welcome distraction from the nausea setting in.
“Before I explain, I need to know—did you see them?” I ask.
Fray shakes his head and looks down at his boots, apparently knowing I meant Cirrin and Varic.
My lips screw up behind the mask, though nothing can stifle the tears from welling along my lash line.
“The last I saw of them, Lars was rushing forward with Malin running after him, and that was just before part of the ceiling fell where we stood. Cirrin grabbed hold of Varic’s shoulder, and they jumped in the opposite direction of where I flew.”
“Then what took you so long to find me?”
“I could see Malin and Lars with you, and as I started to fly in your direction, there was a scream that sounded like a young witch—”
My cheeks wobble as he sighs. “I know my responsibility is to you, and I shouldn’t—”
I shake my head and reach for him, then squeeze his forearm, pulling his attention. “No, aside from Varic, Malin is the next most capable of keeping me safe in a situation like that. You made the right choice, Fray. Besides, it explains why you were covered in more dust than we were.”
The edge of Fray’s mask rises before we each cast our gaze skyward.
“We could go back—” I begin.
“You know we can’t.”
Swallowing is nearly impossible with the tension in my throat—the action being just as useless as blinking against the onslaught of tears threatening. But I will not cry for the loss of them. Not yet. I will not mourn those I do not know to be dead.
“I know it feels impossible—” Varic’s voice resounds in my mind, repeating the words he said when I was filled with panic.
My chest heaves as I release a heavy breath against the fabric covering my face, and stare at the way it dissipates into a thin cloud of vapor.
“You can do this. I promise.” His voice was so caring; it squeezes my heart. “Pull in your next breath with me.”
I go against my nature and listen to his words, pulling in a deep breath through my nose as more tears well.
“Come back to me, mei waella.”
My chest collapses when I force the air out through my mouth, and I deflate into Fray’s side, then mutter, “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like being touched.”
“I don’t mind when it’s you, Tasch.” His voice carries a hint of amusement as he leans in to provide me with the warmth and pressure I need, twisting my stomach as he doesn’t seem to recognize I am the last one of us who deserves his kindness.
This is all my doing. If I hadn’t cozied up to Sal.
If I hadn’t convinced him to give me the book he found.
If I had only been more sensible, then Hendry would still be here, and Varic wouldn’t have been appointed my Lead Guard.
He wouldn’t have had to experience all he has been made to endure since then.
The Emperor would not have used him to test my loyalty. Which means he wouldn’t have been in the Imperial Palace when the ceiling collapsed.
Fray shifts to get a better look at me, but I cannot face him. Not with this. So I shake my head and turn in the opposite direction.
“You can’t hide from me.” He leans down and raises his brow. “I know that look. It’s the one you make when you’re blaming yourself for something. This is not your fault, Tasch.”
“Yes, it is—”
“No. You did not cause this.”
“If—”
“Stop.” He takes my face in his frigid hands. “They are alive. I am sure of it.”
A laugh bleeds from behind my chattering teeth. “Oh, so are you a seer, or an oracle?”
“Neither. I just happen to be connected to the sorcerers I share a life with. You know, after I vowed to give mine in protection of yours.”
His words settle in my chest with the meaning unearthing something. A not-so-distant memory. “Did you feel it when Hendry—” I cut myself off. Unable to bring myself to say more.
“Yes.”
My throat bobs as I swallow. “It was the strangest thing. I swear I could physically feel the loss of him.” My brows furrow with the most perplexing aspect of the experience rising to the surface.
“And not too long after, I could have sworn I felt him—as if he were alive again—or the part of his soul that was bound to my own, at least. Like it was reanimated.”
Fray nods. “I don’t think that’s strange. I remember feeling the same.”
My chest constricts with his admission, assuming I had been the only one. This somehow feels more significant with the awareness of it having been a shared experience.
“But that’s the shit thing about grief. The way we can convince ourselves the being we miss still exists, despite all evidence.”
Mist unfurls as I depress a breath. “You’re right. It’s all just wishful thinking. Because if Hendry had survived that fall, he would have been by our side as soon as he was physically capable.”
“He absolutely would have.”
I lean my head back to rest over his shoulder. “You’re not worried.”