Page 45 of Burn Her They Said
So practiced in dulling the ache for others, I cannot seem to stop now that I’ve begun the process. Not when such intensity surrounds me. Not without my mental wards.
Drawing on every bit of strength I have left, I try to force the wards in place, yet they refuse to barricade me away now that Varic steps up to the dais. He bends in a deep bow before our ruler, wearing customized ceremonial leathers. Gold buttons run across his chest from his left shoulder to the right hip, as if whoever designed it is trying to restrain him, without the awareness that Varic isn’t one who can be contained like this. And with no amount of clasps or buttons capable of reining him in, I need him to exist far away from our Emperor, who will not tolerate his insolence.
“But he’s needed at the border,” I say, eyes flaring wide as I slam my mouth shut.
His Majesty ignores me while I send him a tangle of confusion, fear, and uncertainty. He stalls, and I send more, trying to convince him he’s made a mistake. Varic is not the best choice. It’s not too late. He is the Emperor. The only one who can change his mind so publicly without question.
Rage darkens his irises as an equally dark mist swirls around my chest, coiling upward like a serpent, constricting around my neck to deliberately press in on each pulse point.
Do it. End this. End me.
I glare back at him in challenge.
Send Varic back. Please.
Tears roll down my cheeks as stars crowd in from the edges of my vision.
Take me out. Save him.
But no matter my wish, my body fights to remain conscious, to preserve this life, despite decades of torment. Of course I want this to end. Of course I do not want Varic to have to endure this.
Heat stings beneath my skin, and I hazard a look in Varic’s direction. He furrows his brow as that gorgeous golden amber sheen slips over me, warming my body beneath the Emperor’s magic, molding to the contours of my neck until the pressure relents and my chest rises.
The Emperor continues pulsing his own magic over me, seemingly unaware of any protection, with Varic’s ability mimicking my body so effectively that His Majesty’s face remains just as reddened with the same punishing rage.
So I feign being in the sort of distress he expects, infusing the mask I plaster on with fear and pain to maintain the charade. Caught between one sorcerer capable of controlling me and the other acting as my protector, blocking him with such focus.
The very same he did not possess?—
“Try,” I say, attempting what I hope to be an encouraging tone.
He lets out a heavy breath while my magic continues to siphon the fear and doubt holding him hostage.
“Varic.” My voice shifts, and I wince at the familiarity in the authority contained within.
“I know.” His tone is defeated, and his eyes cast down.
“All you’re doing is practicing. You don’t have to succeed the first time, nor is it likely you will.” I place my hand on his shoulder, and heat expands beneath my palm the more he leans in. “You can do this. I promise.”
“Don’t,” he says, and my brow furrows. “Don’t promise anything you cannot control.”
“I don’t need to control your power to trust that you can.”
Impossibly bright brown eyes lock on mine, where a story is told in the lines of his irises, weaving a tale of pain and sorrow, harbored from decades of being pushed and prodded. Told repeatedly he has not been trying hard enough, with everyone else expecting him to do his absolute best, rather than the best he is capable of in that moment.
I blink back the past as the dark gray mist relinquishes its hold, slinking away as my magic detects satisfaction and pride oscillating through His Majesty’s insides.
Varic stares at me with a sense of compassion while I try to convey my gratitude, even though a part of me wishes he hadn’t intervened. His expression shifts as he pretends not to have used this unique form of protection from the Emperor’s punishment.
“Kneel.” Emperor Aldritch’s voice booms.
Varic does as he is bid, bracing an elbow over one knee as he drops his head, striking a certain type of panic in my chest. All of which I send to him in tendrils made of doubt and fear, regret and remorse, twining them together in a singular thread before entering Varic’s heart, with the intent to manipulate him into refusing the appointment.
His eyes shift to the side, staring at me from his periphery before forcing his gaze ahead, sending me a wave of dedication, resolution, and pride. I release a breath loud enough to tell him I received his unsubtle message when the corner of his mouth ticks upward.
“The honor of being appointed to the role—” His Majesty’s speech is cut off by a hacking cough, as his healer sends magic to try to stop it.
Emperor Aldritch clears his throat. “The honor of an appointment to the role of Imperial Lead Guard for our Imperial Grand Witch Tasch is only afforded to the strongest sorcerer in force magic.” His Majesty casts his gaze to the seats on high, though most of their eyes rest to his right. “At the time I appointed your predecessor, his strength exceeded all others. Then, not even a full year later, your power proved to be the strongest force magic ever documented on the Continent.”
