Page 173 of Burn Her They Said
“Why do you deem it safer for me to spend time with the Prince than the Emperor?”
“I do not trust the Emperor’s purpose for traveling here. Why bring his prized witch, who has been the target of so many attacks, to a land where we have no military presence? Especially after the largest bomb we know to exist was sent through your bedroom window. If we cannot protect you in a land surrounded by soldiers, why bring you here? And why isn’t he keeping you by his side? What benefit does he derive from bringing you if you are not to manage him or any of those he is questioning? He and Wyrth do not want you involved in their plan, which is highly suspicious. Plus, protecting you in an open, outdoor setting is far easier than a room full of witches and sorcerers with unknown spell-casting abilities.”
My head tips to the side. “Your logic is sound. But why don’t you think I can safely sit on a saddle while holding onto some reins for a leisurely ride?”
“There’s more to riding a horse than that,” Cirrin explains.
“For one, as the rider, you’re the one giving commands,” Fray adds, and I stifle a laugh.
“You think because I am so used to taking commands, I am incapable of giving them?”
“Oh, no. We are well aware of your commanding nature,” Varic says, and I scoff. “It is your safety that is most important.”
“And what criteria will you be evaluating to gauge my safety while riding?”
His eyes flash with something as he leans over me. “How well you can mount, straddle, and effectively give commands. That and ride without falling off.”
I bite my lower lip as my cheeks flood with the heat rolling straight down my center.
The corner of his mouth lifts, indicating just how much he’s enjoying this.
“Fine.” I give in, then close my eyes to get some rest.
Another knock tears me from a dream, and I lie still with my heart kicking against my breastbone. The door creaks open before a tangle of hushed voices engages in what sounds like an argument, while I turn and look out the window, where the moon is the only source of light.
Who the fuck is at the door this time?
“Tasch.” Cirrin lowers his voice into a soothing whisper.
“Hm?”
“His Imperial Highness requires your assistance.”
“I’m awake.” I push the covers down past my feet, then shift the robe down over my legs before standing.
“I am not taking you anywhere in so little clothing.” Varic’s gaze sears a trail up my body before he turns to stride toward the bathing chamber.
Malin’s mouth ticks up in the corner as he stares at me, casting his purple magic to hurtle past his leader and return with a solid black silk robe to cover the sheer one I’m wearing, along with a pair of black velvet slippers.
Varic watches in surprise as Fray drops to one knee while Malin’s purple swirl of magic delivers the slippers to his side. He works each one onto my feet before straightening. Malin’s telepathy holds the robe open, helping to slide it up each of my arms. My chest fills with gratitude at this touching display of my Guards’ compassion and care for me as I tie the belt myself.
I shuffle toward the door and force my spine to straighten, like a string pulled tight in the center. The Imperial Grand Witch must look the part, no matter the time.
Varic steps up to my side and holds his arm out, which I gladly take. His form relaxes with my contact, and I smile up at Lars, who holds the door open for us.
Imperial Guards bow before opening the doors to the Emperor’s suite, and I nod in acknowledgement as we make our way inside. The lamps are turned down low, and it takes a moment for my vision to adjust.
Ivo and Danor stand on either side of the bedposts, staring over at me while Wyrth is bent over the bed, facing the Emperor, where they whisper back and forth. I wait with my hands clasped before my waist for them to register my existence.
The Emperor finally waves Wyrth away, to which the Philosopher rises to his full height and narrows his eyes in my direction as he steps away from the bed.
I bow, and His Majesty raises a document to read with the help of a monocle.
“My little witch. You deign to grace us with your presence.” He releases a breath in exasperation. “Took you long enough.”
“How may I be of service, Your Majesty?”
“I need you to do your duty and fix my mood so that I might sleep peacefully,” he says, rifling through the reading material littering his lap, scattering pieces of paper and various writing instruments which fall to the floor as he seems to seek something specific.
