Page 119 of Burn Her They Said
My throat is so dry that I halt mid-swallow, and he pulls me closer, tipping my chin as he looks down on me with sympathy. His eyes shine back so clearly in the dim light, and I struggle to withhold a sob, apparently confusing him.
“I thought it was the safest decision based on everything I knew at the time.” Varic leans in closer, the area where his body connects with mine being the only part of me bearing any warmth. “I thought I could keep you safer here than being on the run without resources. I’m so sorry, mei waella. I severely fucked up.”
“Have you forgotten my refusal to adhere to any plan aside from coming back here?”
He drops his gaze as the sting of shame travels through our connection from him. “I have been in charge of your safety for three days and have already failed you.”
My chest constricts as he shifts back to drop his forehead in the crook of my neck, stealing my breath the moment he presses a kiss to the bare skin along my collarbone. Sparks scatter and fire off, creating a distraction that makes me pause longer than I mean to before telling him, “You didn’t do this, Varic.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t stop him, even though you have done nothing to deserve this sort of treatment.”
A small laugh finds its way out of me, accompanied by another burst of tears I wish I could hold in.
“The only way to stop him would be to kill him, and your magic would have killed everyone in the room had you attempted.”
“Says the witch who has yet to witness how much I have improved my blasting abilities.”
“I also know how fiercely protective you are toward the same witch you credit with being the reason you live, and how intense emotions like this can impact precision.”
He releases a breath, muscles slackening as he deflates, giving me his heat along the sliver of skin covered by nothing other than silk where the hem of his riding leathers ends.
“What reason did he cite for chaining me to a wall in this mystery room?”
Varic leans his head back against the stone to look up at me as he sighs. “Supposedly he’s questioning whether or not he can trust you.”
“And does he mean to keep me here until he determines whether he can or cannot?”
“I think we all know the shackles are meant as a tangible reminder of his power over you.”
A laugh bursts from my chest, and I go to cover my mouth before halting midway with the chains rattling.
“How exactly are you able to find humor in this?”
“How can I not?” I raise my wrists to display the metal rings, shifting the riding leathers up to pool around my neck. “I’m the one he demands to settle his mood and manipulate those who would otherwise distress him. Yet I make one wrong guess as to how he wishes me to word a single sentence, in a game where he set me up to fail, giving him the excuse to toss me in a—I don’t know what to refer to this space, since we’ve always been told there aren’t prison cells in the Imperial Palace.”
Varic reaches for my hands where I’ve set them in my lap and takes the one closest to him. I mindlessly rub the pad of my thumb over each of his calluses, already beginning to soften in his new role with less training required for combat.
“As far as I can tell,” he begins. “It is a secret room in the Emperor’s chambers.”
A shudder rolls through me, considering what purpose he could have for a room like this.
“If you thought he wanted to test your resolve by publicly shaming me after your vow, I would guess he is doing so in the extreme with this experiment. Learning how you will react. How far he can push us before we bend, or break.” His shoulders lift with a deep intake of breath. “It feels selfish to admit, however, I think seeing you in chains is meant to be just as much of a punishment for me.” Varic squeezes my hand twice—the same amount my Guards use for affirmation. “I’m going to ask for some water and a blanket.”
He stands and strides to the door, leaving a notable chill in his absence, creeping over every inch of skin where his body warmed my own. I pull the leathers up as far as I can, cheeks flaming when he turns to look at me with a smirk, his eyes playfully studying the way I’ve dropped forward to pull in a breath of his scent.
Something about this reminds me of the last time I was conscious—when I was naked in the sunken tub—meaning someone pulled me from the water. Dried me. Dressed me. Then carried me in here.
Varic returns without a word as he lowers himself with caution, leaning into me while settling my nerves. I nearly keep my concerns to myself, not wanting to ruin this moment of peace, as we don’t get many.
“Who pulled me out of the tub?” I blurt.
Varic’s eyes cast down, and his jaw feathers while the bated silence between us quickens my pulse, throbbing with the pressure building inside my skull. My fears multiply, taking up space I do not have to spare. The answer is obvious, since Drusilla doesn’t possess the strength and the Emperor would never stoop to perform such a menial task, regardless of how little he wants others to touch me.
“Who dressed me?” My throat constricts when he refuses to answer. If it had been Drusilla, he would say so. “Who carried me?”
He turns, the fire behind his eyes burning bright. “Do you truly believe I would have allowed anyone else to touch you after what he did?”
Fear squeezes my chest, unsure how he could have possibly convinced the Emperor to allow him to attend to my needs rather than the witch he assigned for that purpose.
