Page 105 of Burn Her They Said
Varic nods. “Yes, two healers arrived in the middle of the night, after Fray took his turn. Though everyone did as we promised and took a nap, regardless.”
A small smile ticks up the sides of my lips from the news, and I push off the bed with the spark it ignites in me. My joints and muscles relent, loosening enough for me to stumble to the bathing chamber, eyes widening at my gaunt reflection once the vanity lights flicker to life. Deep undereye circles pair with my sickly white complexion and dry lips. I let out a groan at my hair, now a tangled mess in my apparently fitful slumber—a true testament to my Guards’ ability to mask their amusement, as none of them laughed upon seeing me looking this disheveled.
Cirrin clears his throat, alerting me to the fact he stands just outside the open doorway with his back turned, affording me more privacy than usual.
A freshly carved wooden heart rests on the counter, with Lars’ small gesture pulling a smile on my face while I rush to change into the leathers.
“I forgive you, Lars!” I shout, and pocket the palm-sized heart which he carved flat enough to fit within the compartment.
“What for?” He calls back.
I shake my head and leave the nightclothes in a pile, then brush my teeth and wash my face before returning to the main room with a tangle of hairpins I tried to secure in the mess of strands.
“Need some help with that?” Fray asks, nodding to the top of my head.
I let out a sigh and nod in confirmation, though I cannot imagine what mess my hair will be in should Fray be the one to attempt this.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Malin asks, wedging himself between Fray and me. “While you have proven your artistic ability in drawing, you had better not dare touch a hair on her head. We all remember what happened?—”
“Yes, yes.’ Fray backs out of the room, hands raised. “We all remember how she had to cut out the knot I made when I tried to help her take her hair down. But that was years ago, and I was going to be more careful.”
Malin gives him a side-eye and steps closer. He deftly combs his fingers through the ends before he plaits a quick brain and twirls the hair up to pin it in place far more expertly than the rest of us.
“Thank you,” I say, turning around to face him.
“You can thank my mother for birthing younger sisters who forced me to learn how to style their hair long before I ever came to serve at your side.” Malin winks, and my brow furrows as we leave the bathing chamber for the main room.
“I appreciate you saying so.” I gesture to indicate my side. “How you serve at my side, rather than serving me.”
“We endure together,” Malin explains. “To provide the citizens with a better future than they would have without our influence. We each have our role to play, and while some of us have more regular tasks, meaning we must expend far more energy—” He pauses to look over at Cirrin in acknowledgement of theirs being the magic he speaks of, before returning his gaze to mine. “It only serves logic to provide care for the one who needs the most in any given moment.”
“Which, for years, has been me.” A breath seeps from me after the words have died.
“Or when my brother died, and you all held me up as much as you could,” Cirrin adds.
“Or after my father’s passing, when I was even more melancholy than usual,” Fray says. “Besides, you’re the real leader of this crew.” Moss green eyes flick to Varic in challenge.
My brows meet in the center. “How so?”
“When it comes to us—” Fray gestures to himself, then every other one of my Guards, including Varic. “You just say the word.”
“Unless, of course, it puts you in more danger,” Varic says, and they all nod in agreement.
The sun casts a brilliant pink hue over the horizon with the soft morning light illuminating the fog around us, creating the most ethereal scene as we hike up the hill to greet their Dragons. Cold air thick with dew coats my lungs, chilling me from within as giant puffs of steam emit from our mouths. A different sort of energy thrums through our party as we crest the hill, and a thrill runs through my body from the bird’s-eye view of the five glorious beasts awaiting us.
I halt after a few cautious steps forward, awestruck by the way each Dragon turns to greet us—an honor afforded to so few, and yet this is how we are welcomed the morning after such terrible trauma.
Moments like this bring a prickle of shame to my stomach for every instance I have begged for death over existence. Experiencing something this extraordinary puts everything else into perspective—at least in the moment it’s happening.
Dranea, Lars’ blood-bound Dragon, swivels around to press the sable scales over the blunt end of her nose to my neck, sniffing the hair I have yet to wash before turning her head to let out a dramatic sneeze, then rotating to the side until we’re eye to eye with her crimson orb peering directly into my bright blue. She blinks slowly, then appears to bow—to me.
My cheeks flame. Minea bowing to Varic during their blood-bond ceremony was a truly significant event. There should be no reason for Dranea to do the same, yet Lars simply shrugs and continues busying himself with the harness. I carry on down the hill where Guards are greeting their own Dragons, unaware of what just happened.
Lucrea nuzzles his ruby snout in the center of Malin’s chest, and a small laugh bursts from my chattering lips. It warms my heart when Malin pets the deep red scales down her neck, eliciting a mix of sentimentality and melancholy to duel in a rivalrous dance, with the sincere wish we could have more moments like this.
Cirrin’s blood-bound Dragon, Brea, takes my breath away as usual with her striking blue-black scales. Her gaze swivels to meet mine, and it feels as if her ice blue eyes can see straight through to my soul—which for some reason, is frightening. To have a Dragon know all of your secrets, your essence. No wonder Emperor Aldritch tends to wither in her presence.
“Imperial Grand Witch Tasch,” Brea greets me, communicating with her telepathic ability. There’s always been something especially powerful in her energy, and I assume it must be why Emperor Aldritch tends to keep his distance from her when they run drills. Though the thought of her breathing fire on his form after sharing some terrifying warning in his mind is amusing enough, I allow the thought to remain in my mind where she can receive it until she makes the croaking sound deep in her throat I’ve learned to interpret as a Dragon’s laughter. Smirking knowingly, I throw in a wink as her laughter only grows in volume.
