Page 61 of Burn Her They Said
Lars steps around me, and Malin squeezes past Varic, while Fray and Cirrin follow, leaving my Lead Guard and me to walk side by side where the ceiling is lower than in the rest of the Palace, and the darkness between scattered torches makes for a treacherous passage.
Varic’s breathing grows labored as we enter a particularly tight passage, and he thrusts his hand out to slow my steps. My magic allows me to see the bright red coils spiraling out from his chest as his anxiety intensifies—verging on panic, reminding me of the first time I learned of this fear he’s held since childhood?—
“How did you convince them to give you such a big tent?” I ask, leaning back on the bed.
Varic groans. “Do I have to tell you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” A rueful smile breaks across my face as his emotions unfurl from him and reach for me. “Is that embarrassment you’re feeling?”
“I don’t know.”
I playfully elbow him in the ribs, and he clutches his side to feign injury.
“Fine.” He sighs, sitting up to find my eyes. “They issued me a larger tent because I’m claustrophobic.”
My eyebrows rise, and I sit upright, pooling the bed linens over my legs as I cross them. “The Army gave you a larger tent because of your fear of small, enclosed spaces?”
“Hey, it’s not funny,” he says defensively.
“And I am not laughing.”
Haze overtakes my vision as grief from all of the needs I’ve been made to leave unspoken overwhelms my senses with the awareness they would never be taken seriously, despite me being considered the ‘Empire’s greatest asset’—whatever good that does me.
I shake my head of the recollection and draw on another to find some calm and safety when I can’t connect. My pulse throbs in my veins as I try again, needing to act quickly because Varic’s breathing is becoming clipped. But I don’t understand; I’ve barely used any?—
That heaviness. The distinct weight of loss. Thicker and broader than the one who used to walk through these tunnels, shoulder to shoulder with me, every time before this.
Godsdamned grief, dampening my ability, when it is Varic who needs me.
“Breathe in through your nose, slowly—like you taught me,” I whisper, as his chest expands and my heart hammers, unsure if I can help him without the use of my powers. “Good. Now breathe out through your mouth, just as slowly.”
Varic nods, closing his eyes just before they fly open again.
I scan our surroundings until the tension in my shoulders relents when none of the Guards should notice the risk I am about to take in supporting him. Not in these cramped, winding tunnels, nor with this relative darkness.
With the need to do something to help him while he tries to steady his breathing. My touch has always seemed to bring him comfort, so I take the risk with the confidence I can come up with some excuse if needed, and grab hold of his hand more aggressively than intended. My cold fingers dig into the warmth of his palm as he turns his head, eyes widening as he tries to yank his hand free. Though I refuse to let him—not even when he throws his glance back to the Guards behind us, whose collective gaze remains trained on the ground, studying where to take their next step.
“Remember what Jase used to say?” My heart twinges as I call upon the ghost of his best friend—tempering my guilt with the excuse that grief is different from panic, at least. His eyes seem to lose focus as he stares back. “Look up, Varic. See all of the air up there?”
His eyes fall closed, and his chest quivers as he drags in a shuddered breath.
“I…I can’t.” His voice quivers, shaking my heart with it. “I can’t do it.”
“Okay, I understand.” Tears sting along my lash line. “Please, Varic. Just look?—”
“You don’t understand. I can’t.” His expression is pinched as the pale gray of depression envelops his anxiety like a threadbare blanket.
My heart hammers behind my ribs, because that’s not what I meant—I wasn’t going to ask him to do the same thing—I have another idea. But he isn’t in a place to take directions, so I need to think of something different. Something meaningful to him.
So I squeeze his hand and make sure to pause after every time I tense my fingers around his palm, making sure all four pulses are felt and accounted for.
His brows remain knit in the center as he glares over. “You don’t know what that means.”
“No, but it worked, didn’t it?”
“How so?”
“Are you currently feeling more panic, or has your annoyance with me overtaken it?”
