Page 247 of Burn Her They Said
My expression shifts to her visage the moment I bend in a bow toward the Emperor. My legs feel ten times heavier, while the soles of my boots drag over the stone, until I stand tall in the center of my Guards.
They all turn and offer me looks of sympathy as Varic sends his shield to cover the child. A shaky breath rends from me as the orb obscures her in its opalescence, appearing more solid from the outside. A feature I fail to remember as the one usually encased inside of it.
“We do this for them,” Malin says under his breath, as a wave of his purple magic billows out toward the child.
I turn to regard him as he nods ahead, where he solidifies his magic to create a shield just like Varic’s. My brows furrow as I stare into the deep purple orb, in awe of how he has made the same type of shield every force sorcerer learns to conjure in their childhood. My heart swells with gratitude, as not even the Emperor’s telekinetic Guard can sense Malin’s magic, allowing him this act of solidarity. Bringing me comfort, though it isn’t necessary.
More amber magic flows over to Danor, and my eyes narrow when Varic shields him. I cannot guess at the purpose—unless this could prevent him from detecting the use of dormant magic.
“We do this for them,” Lars whispers and sends a sheet of his bright red power from his body as he somehow follows in Malin’s example. The sorcerer must have used his magic to tap out a message in their secret language.
He and Malin share a conspiratorial look as his dormant force magic warbles around the child before it condenses into a shield just as stable as the others.
Tears stream down my cheeks, and I want nothing more than to pull them all into a hug, but I must withhold the urge.
“You may begin,” His Majesty says, and I nod with solemnity to prove the power he wields over me.
To prove his punishment causes me the pain he thinks is necessary to maintain his level of power, as I pretend to bring the same sort of harm to this innocent witch who does not deserve to pay for my insolence.
For my transgressions are my own, and I should be made to suffer them alone. Not to terrify this young witch or make her fake her reactions in the same way I have been. Born to bear the brunt of every foul mood befalling those who would exert their control over me. To be the blame for all that ails them—a reality I do not want for this young one.
She stares back with those soulful brown eyes, and I nearly collapse, feeling wholly incapable of making myself fake this. Even acting out this scene is torturous.
I can’t do this. I can’t even pretend.
Then allow me, the Imperial Grand Witch commands, with her world-worn voice reverberating. I do as she says and slink back inside myself.
She narrows our eyes in a signal to the young witch, whose lips curve up in the corners as if she is enjoying this. The Imperial Grand Witch raises our hands in a dramatic flourish.
The young one shakes and jerks around, acting as we agreed—making it seem as if I am hurting her.
Cirrin’s voice is low as he says, “We do this for them.”
I shake and shudder when his blue-green magic joins the others to form a solid shield around the young witch. Tension relents around my chest from the kindhearted healer adding his own level of protection in support, despite my shortcomings, or how much he already does for me.
Fray nudges me with his elbow, and his moss green eyes beckon, then lock on mine. A deepening smirk rises on the side of his face, and my cheek wobbles. My Guard, who is most likely to buck authority, must be loving this.
“We do this for them,” Fray whispers and sends a light gray cloud to join the rest, shielding this child who could have been me, or any of us.
Now all of my guards have chosen to risk their lives with the use of dormant force magic to shield this young witch from a consequence I should be facing alone. Not to protect against me or my power, as they all must know I would never use it against her.
Instead, this is an act of solidarity. A gesture to keep her safe, with me.
Audible sobs rend from me as His Majesty looks on with devious glee, misinterpreting the reason for my emotion. Having no way of knowing my overwhelm is an expression of awe and disbelief at witnessing my Guards care for me.
The young witch’s scream pierces my heart as if it’s really happening. Her movements and screams are so realistic, I look down at my hands as if I am hurting her.
Her eyes open wide, and the twinkle inside is the only indication otherwise.
The Emperor lifts his chin in command, and my heart sinks lower.
Yet the young witch winks at me—reminding me of the confidence exuded from a certain sorcerer—communicating she is okay. That we can keep going. She may even be enjoying this ruse we’ve concocted.
So the Imperial Grand Witch pretends to give more. To torment the little one so much she falls to the floor. My chest constricts because she shouldn’t need to do any of this. She shouldn’t have to act as if the Empire’s most notorious witch is tormenting her.
“More,” Emperor Aldritch commands.
We nod—the Imperial Grand Witch and I. We can do this together. Just like we have for so many years. I’ve lost count.
