Page 26 of Burn Her They Said
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Hendry snarls, leaning in so closely that he nearly brushes the shell of my ear with his lips.
“What? Committing treason?” I ask rhetorically, and his face falls, scanning the empty hall until we come to a halt before the glass panes in the arched door frame where Sal stands just beyond.
“This is a big risk you’re taking,” Hendry says, voice shifting to be more cautious and caring than stern and domineering. “But I swear that’s not the only source of my concern. There is something else I cannot name, and I do not think we should step out onto that balcony.”
Cocking my head to the side, I study his features; his brow is furrowed, and his lips pressed together. Yet, there’s something hidden—an unspoken worry he isn’t expressing clearly—and the only answer which comes to mind is one I refuse to voice to him.
“What, are you jealous?” Fray asks, and I release a breath, frustrated with how this sorcerer too often speaks what is on my mind when I rather wish he wouldn’t.
“Of who?” Hendry asks. “That snatcher?” Tossing his head toward Sal.
“Sounds like envy to me,” Lars teases him, and I could punch his stomach were it less liable to break my hand in the process.
Since Cirrin has enough responsibility with my healing, I withhold the urge to act on it and chide them instead. “Leave him alone. It has nothing to do with Sal.”
“Oh no,” Hendry corrects me. “I do not trust him. And I don’t think you should, either.”
“So you would have me refuse the item he has found and allow him to do whatever he pleases with the artifact?” I ask, as he quickly swipes a hand down his face.
He squares his shoulders and considers me with respect reflected back in his expression. “If you truly believe this item could be the key to aiding our cause, so be it.”
“I do,” I confirm, though he’s heard me say it a dozen times before.
“Then we will support you, as ever, in exploring this option,” Hendry says.
“Just like you have in every other precarious situation I have gotten us into,” I tease, allowing my expression to mirror his as the corner of his mouth lifts.
“Like every other challenge you have thrown our way,” Hendry begins, smiling in earnest. “As always, we do this for them.”
“We do this for them,” the rest of us repeat under our breath, as Hendry nods to Fray and Malin, who pry the arched glass doors apart, allowing us to step out and into the night, while pausing to take the first breath of fresh air we’ve had today.
A cool breeze dances along my skin, twirling the stray hairs around my face into a makeshift crown atop my head.
General Sal turns to me, offering a smile which can only be described as conspiratorial, made all the more dramatic with the way he leans on one elbow over the railing facing the Citadel. I send my magic and return the smile, detecting a heady mix of lust, desire, and excitement, which explains why his eyes darken the closer I move toward him.
As is often the consequence for absorbing such emotions, arousal stirs in my core, conjuring flashes of fantasies I’ve dreamed up before.
* * *
Varic kneeling between my thighs, looking up at me with those impossibly bright brown eyes when he dips his chin and licks his lips, leaving them glistening in the firelight. My chest rises and falls beneath the thin black silk at the sensation of his hands winding around the outside of each of my thighs, where he holds them out at an angle. Right where he wants me. He parts his lips in a devious grin as he drops his face lower, the heat of his breath warming my skin.
* * *
I shake my head, the heat building beneath my cheeks having nothing to do with the sorcerer beside me and everything to do with the one I wish were here instead.
“I’m impressed you were able to slip away so easily,” he says, as the lines in his face deepen with his grin.
“Agreed.” I turn away and brace my forearms over the cold gray marble railing as I survey the evergreen trees concealing apparently terrifying beings.
The Eternal Flame roils from atop the roof of the tallest tower in the Citadel, emerging from the center of the Temple of the Dragon.
General Sal leans so close his gray and black facial hair brushes against my cheek in a most unnerving fashion. I withhold the shudder it brings, not wanting him to get the wrong impression.
“Do you think they’re watching?” He tips his head in the direction of my Guards, whose keen eyes are locked on the actions of the sorcerer asking such a ludicrous question.
“Always.”
“Good.” He turns, with his lips so close to my own, a wave of panic washes over me.
