Page 225 of Burn Her They Said
His eyes lower to trace the way I touch him as his chest expands with a deep intake of breath.
“We do this for them,” Varic reminds me, meeting my eyes while using the words of the sorcerer who held his role before him. “We endure the uncertainty and the risk of removing your power from his clutches to create a better life for the citizens we serve.”
I nod, lips quirking as I join the rest of them in chanting, “We do this for them.”
A delicate curve lifts the corners of Varic’s lips as he wraps his hand around the one I comforted him with, then warms my heart as he squeezes it four times before retracting his warmth with him as he turns.
Each step he takes away from me indents my heart as he recedes toward the vanity, to leave roughly one hundred paces between our bodies.
Malin’s deep baritone begins to fill the air as it thrums in my chest. Then the light blue mist of Cirrin’s magic arcs over my body like a blanket as the kindness of my Guards lulls me into slumber.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Drill
“We have a plan.”
Varic’s promise resounds in my mind to keep me from screaming every time Drusilla tugs on my hair, forcing my strands to cooperate into a long single plait. My neck muscles strain as she pulls to coil the braid into a tight knot at the top of my head, her expression remaining neutral as she shoves the pins in to keep it in place, poking me no less than three times while I grit my teeth.
Malin pointedly catches my eyes in the reflection, glancing from my hairstyle, then up to his own, distracting me from the pain in my scalp with his playful comparison.
“You will accompany His Majesty for Dragon riding drills,” Drusilla says.
I release a breath when she turns away to step atop a small stool to grab hold of the training leathers, which I will wear for ornamental purposes, hanging from the open mouth of a gold Dragon hook. She drops down to the floor and grabs hold of my robe, and tugs it down from my shoulders, her nails catching and pulling the nightgown with it so each falls to the ground as I rise to stand from the chair before the mirror.
She shakes the leathers to indicate it is time for me to step inside the skintight riding uniform. I brace the back of the chair to steady myself as the soft interior caresses my skin when she draws it up and over my hips. Once my arms have been forced within it, she steps behind and secures me inside all the way up my spine and the back of my neck. Then spins me around to inspect its fit.
Heat erupts in the center of my chest, hidden by the higher cut of the leather until the pink hue creeps its way up my otherwise pale white neck, beckoning my gaze to land on Varic as he stares at my reflection. I follow the line of his eyes while my own widen at the tighter-than-usual style. I startle when Drusilla pats my shoulder, wishing I could hide the flush in my cheeks from her. Yet she wordlessly helps me into my boots, and I assist her as best I can, then clear my throat, trying to encourage Varic to shift his attention.
His eyes rise to mine before scanning the room, while Fray barely stifles his laughter by turning away and staring out the window.
“Come on,” Drusilla says. “We can’t leave His Majesty waiting.”
She leads our party into the hall as five Imperial Guards trail ahead of us and another five follow closely behind. Regardless of the extra eyes on me, an uncommon sense of confidence thrums through my being. While the only real change is what I am wearing, feeling more myself in these leathers than in any of the dresses they make me wear.
We march down the stairs and wind through corridors before entering the dimly lit Dungeons while Guards pry the first Emperor’s portrait away from the wall and allow us entrance through the hidden passage.
Malin and Lars take their places ahead of us, and Varic sticks to my side while I try to swivel around to glance at the soon-to-be-interim Guards—none of whom seem the least bit concerned with Varic’s proximity, despite the Emperor requiring a hundred paces between our bodies.
Varic’s throat bobs the closer we draw to the catacombs. His eyes flit around in assessment, though not only for my safety—but for any semblance of his own. I collect some threads of calm and focus, then cautiously send the bundle into his chest. My heart thrums heavily as I try to decipher his needs.
After ensuring that no one is looking at us, I turn to Varic, and my flush deepens with his gratuitous study of my being. While I am grateful for this ability to distract him from his panic, a spike of that same emotion strikes my chest with the risk he’s taking by being so obvious. I release a breath and jab my elbow near his ribs. He playfully evades me, angling away until I lower my arm.
“You could be less obvious,” I say, while failing to hide the smile in my voice.
“Are you going to make me guess your meaning?”
The path narrows, requiring us to walk closer than the Emperor would prefer.
“You can’t be serious,” I jest, though his expression falls and his brows knit in the center. “Are you truly so obtuse?” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug, and I lean in to whisper, “I’ve caught you staring at me at least a dozen times already. And I thought you were ‘the distraction’—not me.”
A grin pulls on the corners of his lips as that deep pink flush blooms across both cheeks to meet in the center of his nose, highlighted by the flames of each torch we pass. He leans over my shoulder, tickling the side of my neck with the cast of his breath. “I am incapable of denying your claim, nor can I apologize for my behavior.”
A shiver runs down my skin as I rub the affected area of my neck, inadvertently brushing my knuckles across the plush center of his lips. I swallow when he keeps pace with me, pressing his side into mine, regardless of the widening space around us. A heady sensation overtakes me, and my eyelids grow heavy.
“Can you blame me?” His posture and tone both radiate confidence as he straightens. The torchlight dances across the brightness of his irises, and I feel more desperate than ever for twenty minutes alone with him in some dark corner. “You saw yourself in the mirror.” His eyes cast down over my body before rising to pin mine. “Can you honestly say you did not admire your own reflection? That you did not notice how tantalizing you look wearing these”—My eyes flare wide as his fingertips swipe a line over the curve of my outer thigh—“skin-tight leathers?”
“Shh,” I warn. “They could hear you.”
