Page 121 of Burn Her They Said
We sit cradled next to each other for what seems like hours before I admit, “You don’t need to drain your magic to protect my skin.”
“Do you truly believe me to be so weak? It would take weeks or months for me to even notice a strain. I have yet to find a limit to my magic.”
“Is that true, or do you not recognize when it is draining you from being so accustomed to the practice it would be impossible to tell otherwise?” Silence follows, so I fill it. “For example, the very recent incident where you nearly fainted shortly after using your magic to suppress a bomb, which I would not consider weakness, but rather a consequence of using too much of your power all at once.” I turn and look at him pointedly, though he doesn’t meet my gaze. “You’re not invincible, Varic. You’re not meant to be.”
“Remind me why we aren’t incapacitating the Guards and running away?” he deflects, turning to me with a painfully wistful expression, as if there is any hope of me agreeing that we should risk everyone’s lives by making a run for it.
“You know why, but this must mean you went too long without being a distraction.”
“What do you mean?”
“You tell me.” I nudge him, relishing in the smirk rising up his cheek. “It’s like you have a quota to fill or something. ‘Well, it’s been a few minutes. Time to distract Tasch again’.”
He shakes his head, then grins at me, dropping the side of his head to rest by my own as we fall into a companionable silence, holding each other’s hands like we did all those years ago.
The door hinges creak, and Varic jumps to his feet as a Guard tosses a sealed leather flask in through the opening, then slams the door closed and locks it before Varic can cross the short distance.
“Hey!” Varic bangs his fist on the door. “We need a blanket! She’s freezing.”
“Emperor Aldritch has strictly forbidden us from providing her any comforts.”
“The blanket is for safety, and I am the one who will determine what that means. She is cold, and without her healer to repair any damage from such temperatures.”
Silence is all the answer his words receive as I pull my legs in tighter to my chest, unable to tell if I even have toes now that true numbness has set in.
“I will break this door down and get you a blanket if I have to.”
I quirk a brow, rattling the chains as I pat the space beside me. “Come, sit with me. I’ll be fine.”
He sighs and returns to my side, where he passes me the flask and watches while I drink, dropping his head to rest on my temple when I finish taking a few swigs.
A trill runs through my chest and spins around my heart as I hand the flask back. He promptly begins to screw the lid on, and I place my hand over his to stall his progress.
“Drink, Varic.”
“I’m f?—”
“Drink.”
He sighs, then tilts the flask to his lips, warming my chest with the sentimental, life-sustaining flame lit within it.
“How are you?”
He scoffs and sets the flask down beside him. “The freezing, hungry, dehydrated witch who happens to be chained to a wall asks how I’m doing.”
I let out a little laugh. “Yes.”
“I’ll be okay when you are, Tasch.”
My heart jolts against my ribs.
Because I don’t know that I ever will be.
And that’s not good enough for him.
He deserves better than this.
Chapter Forty-Two
