Page 60 of Burn Her They Said
“Look,” Lars begins, glancing at his leader before his attention shifts to me. “I do not care to know what you two do as long as it doesn’t endanger her. So, if you can try to restrain yourselves around others and save whatever it is you need to do for when we have relative privacy in her quarters, I support it?—”
“Dragons, give me patience,” Malin swears, pressing the pad of his thumb and pointer finger to the bridge of his nose. “Not everyone is as consistently aroused as you are, Lars.”
Lars’ expression shifts with a mischievous grin, “Wouldn’t you?—”
“Thank you all for expressing your concerns.” I gesture broadly. “As for me and Varic, it seems we have maintained that strange connection forged upon our initial meeting.”
The soles of Varic’s boots shuffle beneath him, and my chest constricts when a rope of rejection flees from his body to find solace in my own, wrapping itself around my heart and squeezing relentlessly with the terror that courses through his veins.
“And we will do our best to hide how we react in each other’s presence,” I say, and Varic nods, though his eyes remain fixed on the floor as I pull on the sense of worthiness he instilled in me years prior, then thread it through the rope to bind his feeling of rejection into a new form of hope.
Our connection thrums with Varic sending me the ever-changing emotions in his chest—gratitude, fear, confusion, weariness, trust—then I wait until he seems calm enough for me to change the subject. Needing to know something which has not been safe to ask about until now.
“Where is the item which you so stealthily confiscated from my being?”
He crosses his arms over his chest before leaning on the bedpost to face me. I flare my nostrils up at him in annoyance at just how rapidly his cocksure attitude is capable of making a reappearance.
“Don’t worry, I made sure it’s safe.”
“I would love to believe?—”
“No one would ever think to guess where it is being kept, and even if they did, they would never attempt to procure it for fear of being burnt to a crisp, or dismembered by a set of enormous jaws I certainly would not want to find myself crushed within.” His voice is measured as I try to pull in a breath.
“When would you have—” I pause, eyes widening. “Your meeting with the Elders.”
Varic nods so subtly it’s almost imperceptible, with the warm glow of the fire being the only light cast over him. I mirror his gesture in understanding, agreeing with his assessment that no one would attempt to find a Godsdamned book hidden in a possessive Dragon’s hoard.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dens
Echoes of our movement fill the vast empty space in the dungeons, with the footfalls of our large party creating a head-throbbing cacophony as we pass through to the Dragon dens where Varic will be granted the honor of bonding with one of the majestic beasts, to whom we owe everything.
The air is heavier now, and my lungs scream for me to leave this place filled with far too many memories. A sensation the darkness only amplifies, as flames dance within every other gas lamp, while each one that has been lit is dimmed to emit just enough light to discern our surroundings on our way to the secret entrance into the mountain.
Heat climbs up my chest with the visceral memory of how Varic’s body felt when it pressed flush against my own while we danced with his magic supporting my body, now that we cross the floor where it all occurred just hours before this.
His gaze drudges up the emotions contained in our angsty exchange after the dance ended, striking me in the center of my chest with how his mood darkened while I described what I thought he must have already known in regard to my inability to ward in his presence. How his proximity complicates everything, as anything between the two of us must be in service to the Empire, and nothing more. An uncomfortable truth I’ve been made to accept, mostly by allowing myself to dream of a life where Varic and I are married.
Sweat beads along my brow as I try to stuff the emotions down, no longer safe to rely on said fantasies to shift my mood. Not with Varic’s proximity increasing the anguish, for which I need distance. A special kind of torture to have to spend every moment with the sorcerer of my fantasies while forbidden from meeting either of our needs.
Hinges shriek from the weight of First Emperor Aslo’s enormous portrait, as four Imperial Guards pry its gilded frame from the wall and reveal the arched passageway. Additional Imperial Guards carry torches between each group, with the Emperor and his Guards taking up the front, closely followed by myself and my own, with Wyrth and his sworn protectors, along with Imelda, being the last.
Ominous shadows flicker over the deep lines creasing the Emperor’s expression as he turns to take the rough-hewn passage, and I belatedly note Raki is suspiciously absent.
A prickling sense of unease spreads under my skin when I look to my left, requiring Hendry’s assurance. Then my stomach drops when Varic’s bright brown irises stare back instead of the blue I expected.
My vision swims as I force my gaze forward and move as a phantom.
Because nothing can prevent the sting of seeking the one who has always been there, only to find their absence.
Forced to contend with the loss of them every time we expect to find their presence. Made all the worse by the weight of knowing they never can be there again, no matter how often we might look for them. Because no amount of yearning and hurt can bring them back to us, regardless of how desperate we might feel to make that happen.
I startle when Varic’s hand courses up my lower back to encourage my movement, as His Majesty and his Guards have all disappeared past the threshold. Every step forward is a plodding endeavor, feeling like my legs have been replaced with something heavier. The effort it will take to lift each one enough times to finally reach the Dragon dens feels insurmountable.
We catch up with His Majesty, who spins around with a sneer. “Keep up.”
My heart lurches, and I fail to keep pace with him and his Guards as the Emperor forges on toward the catacombs—a confusing maze of tunnels fashioned by the dwarves during the War of the Ages to bury all the beings considered most important.
