Page 273 of Burn Her They Said
A plume of mist bursts from me as I laugh. “Fray, I mean this with kindness, but you could never convince me you have any designs on me whatsoever.”
He nods in relief. “Good, because I didn’t even think?—”
“I know.” I place my hand on his arm to pull his attention away from the swaying trees. “That’s what makes it so endearing.”
He smiles faintly before his expression falls and his eyes convey something more serious. “I guess I’d better stop stalling and allow you to explain what you mentioned just before we landed.”
I swallow with the need for water, then clear my throat to deliver the least terrifying news of the evening.
“Since it seems you were bespelled, you may not have heard the Emperor’s plans to conquer the Continent.” Fray’s eyes widen as I continue, “Which he claims will require eyes and ears across the land. Therefore, he has decided to wed me and bed me in order to sire heirs, who will act as his court leaders within the different regions.”
Fray’s expression is one of pure murder. “Shit, Tasch. This is worse than I ever thought him capable. And you’re sure this wasn’t a fever dream? That you weren’t the one bespelled instead of me?”
“No, but I wish that were possible.”
“I just don’t understand how he achieved it.”
“Immortality? He had to have discovered the answer when we were in Annovia.”
“Yes, but if no one else has ever uncovered the secret, it can’t have been simple.”
“That’s what I would have assumed. However, if Wyrth was close, and they only needed one ingredient not grown in our soil, or one key spell—something we wouldn’t have any way to know—it is possible.”
“I suppose by that logic, anything is. But could he have been bluffing? Could he just be using this to convince you not to fight when it comes to marrying him? Couldn’t this all be a ploy to keep you closer?”
“How did you know he said the part about wanting to keep me closer?”
“I didn’t. It’s just so obvious that is his intention.”
“He also means to make me immortal, so I might serve at his side—as well as his bed—birthing heirs for him in perpetuity.”
“No.” Fray vehemently shakes his head. “Fuck that. I’m glad I got you out when I did.”
“Now we just need the others to join us.”
“And to get you far away from Ampara Deicra, and his influence.”
“What if he can’t die, Fray? Is there any point to us running away, or are we needlessly bringing war to any land that helps us?”
“Oh, we will find a way to decimate him. I promise. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”
We each pull in a deep breath as we cast our attention to the undulating fog, bolstered by one another’s presence as we wait for a sign—a glimmer—anything to indicate our missing sorcerers have come back to us.
The chill has settled so deep within my bones, it feels as if it has crept inside and frozen my marrow. Tears crystallize along my lashes, and my teeth chatter, adding to the pressure mounting in my skull.
Steam coils before Fray’s face as he tugs on my sleeve before he slowly stalks over to the trees. I follow him, while tossing my gaze back with the refusal to miss any sign of my Guards’ arrival.
Fray gestures for me to step closer to where he rests his back against the widest tree trunk. “We need to preserve any warmth we have left. You can stand in front of me so I can wrap my arms around you; that way we can still see the sky clearly.” He clears his throat. “If you’re comfortable with?—"
“Yes, Fray, I am comfortable with you holding me, just like you did the whole way here.”
“That’s not the same. You weren’t given a choice then.”
His words pull on my heart as I lean back against him, feeling safer the moment his arms cross over my own to hold me close, though loose enough we can both crane our necks to stare up at the sky together.
The forest is more active than I would have guessed it would be at this time of night, with the creatures stirring all around us being the kind to rattle the nerves of the bravest souls. Every snapped twig and rustling of debris startles us before we turn to find the culprit, only to learn it is merely a collection of dry leaves scattering. Ravens caw, while critters sneak and skitter, then run amok—chittering and chattering the whole time they run off.
“Do you think…” I begin.
