Page 63 of Burn Her They Said
Varic studies me in silence while I pull in a breath to study the next carving on his side of the stairwell. One where the same strange desecration has occurred between the Witch Queen and Dwarf King’s frames where they stand behind the balcony railing, looking at each other over the marks marring whatever must have upset the vandal. Because otherwise, I cannot imagine a reason one might destroy such fine artistry.
“Beautiful,” Varic says.
A familiar heat builds beneath my cheeks when I turn to where he stares at me rather than the damaged scene.
“Yes,” I agree, though I do not mean the carvings, either.
The smile curving his lips fractures something in my chest, wishing it were possible to release Fray’s arm in favor of his, feeling as if this incessant need to pull Varic closer to my being while forced to keep him at such a short distance might ultimately prove to be my ruin.
Pins and needles prick my legs when we step within the heart of the mountain, where the hollow center inspires a sense of wonder, quickly followed by the internal stirring of existential dread, with the vast emptiness feeling at once too familiar and uncertain.
My eyes trace the dark, webbed veins along the walls when a shriek unlike any animal I know to exist emits from the dark tunnel leading to Wyrth’s mysterious laboratory.
The Philosopher strides ahead, gesturing for two of the Guards carrying torches to lean in where he whispers a command I am unable to decipher. Whatever his message, it must be urgent, since the Guards nod to him before taking off at a fast clip to disappear within the darkness. Wyrth swipes a hand down his face as he returns to stand behind us, and I share a knowing look with Imelda.
Emperor Aldritch commands his own Guards to continue for the dens, to which they listen, leading us through the mouth of the hidden passage to the outer world. I release Fray’s arm and shield my eyes from the piercing pain entering them, though the light filtering in is dreary and gray.
“What exactly are you shielding yourself from? It is neither sunny nor bright outside,” Lars says as I fix him with a glare. “Whoa, whoa.” He holds his hands up in defense, as if my gaze alone can harm him.
We come to a halt at the top of the valley and gaze over the area where cave openings dot this side of the mountain, each one opening to intersecting tunnels leading to the Dragon’s dwellings. The thought of so many beasts living inside these caves is almost too fantastical, yet having witnessed every size of Dragon exit these wide openings, there is no question. Perhaps if magical beings were permitted to enter, read the descriptions of such a location, or to have any depiction past those made from pure imagination, it might feel possible. Though no witch nor sorcerer dare enter, except when summoned for a meeting with the Elders.
A long sloping path curves down before us and continues on all the way to the edge of the forest, just a few paces before the line of soldiers who stand guard before the pines, ensuring no one enters and nothing leaves it. Their stern expressions contribute a grim reality to the celebratory air of the day, since their purpose is to note any abnormalities in the trees to both sound the alarm and defend against any threat.
Imperial witches stand between every handful of soldiers or more, ensuring the telekinetics maintain their focus, with shoulders squared and expressions neutral. Yet they cannot hide the deep, dark crescents underneath their eyes, exemplifying their exhaustion. A contradiction to their otherwise well-crafted image. Though isn’t this exactly what is expected of us? To pretend all is well, even when evidence to the contrary stares back from our faces.
Excitement rolls from Varic’s shoulders down his body with his tall form practically vibrating, eyes sparkling as he glances around with a different sort of energy than when he is assessing for safety. I can’t help but stare over with curiosity, unsure if such a drastic change in his demeanor is in anticipation of the upcoming ceremony, or from simply being outdoors.
Then my heart constricts with the possible reasons, because even when he blood-bonds with a Dragon, he will not be permitted the freedom to come out and visit whenever he pleases. Instead, this sorcerer who thrives in the sunlight will be locked away in the Palace with the rest of us, only permitted to come outdoors when it serves the Emperor.
The large white stage looms before us, with the throne set to face the caves across the clearing. Impossibly bright brown eyes seek and find mine, with that magnetic draw he wields pulling me to him.
I clear my throat and redirect my gaze forward, with the image of his small smile imprinted behind my retinas.
Black and gold banners embroidered with our sigil ripple in the wind from all four pillars on the stage, surrounding the newest banner hanging in the center at the back where a large black square of cloth obscures what will soon be revealed as Varic’s signet.
Emperor Aldritch climbs the shallow stairs and strides toward the center of the stage. He pauses to peer out over the audience made up of those he deigned to offer an invitation.
Varic tilts his head to the side, drawing my attention before indicating for me to look down where he points at a patch of Dragon’s Fury, our Empire’s flower and my signet. Its black petals and purple stems rise from the ground so plentifully they nearly surround the stage. I glance back at him and widen my eyes as he bends down, reaching toward the forbidden flower. Panic erodes all sense, and I lightly smack the side of his arm with the back of my hand.
Cheeks burning, I scan those around us, worrying someone may have noticed my Lead Guard reaching for the flower that not even the strongest force sorcerer in the world is permitted to touch, much less pick, as it appeared he might. My stomach drops when Ivo’s brown eyes ensnare my focus while his cheek lifts in a knowing smirk. Fuck. This is the last kind of disruption we need, should the Emperor’s force sorcerer report my own Lead Guard for being inches away from committing a fatal crime.
“What’re you doing?” I chastise once Varic straightens. “You know it is forbidden to so much as touch one.”
“I am well-versed in the consequences.” His voice deepens as his gaze sears a path up my neck, and he leans closer to whisper, “I always stop and admire them whenever I see a patch growing on my travels. No matter where the Emperor has sent me, I have felt grateful for how plentifully they grow, since I can almost guarantee wherever I went, a patch would be growing as a reminder of you.” Varic looks around, assessing the risk before looking up at me through his lashes.
“Distractor,” I chide him, heart leaping with the need for him to be less of one with so many eyes studying our interaction. Yet when his lips rise in the corners, mine very nearly mirror him before catching myself to press them into submission.
“You and half of the Continent would think of me when viewing them,” I whisper, barely parting my lips to prevent them from moving. “It is well known to be part of my signet.”
“I think he was attempting to be romantic,” Malin says under his breath.
I scoff, disguising my amusement, when Lars turns to whisper, “Malin, leave it.”
Varic releases a breath as he offers me his hand, contact which is expected between us, as Hendry aided me in remaining steady as I climbed the small set of stairs plenty of times before this. So I take his hand and wait for my Guards to join me on stage, then step forward to bow to the Emperor, who ignores my existence as I plant my boots to the right of his throne. Wyrth and his Guards have already positioned themselves on his left, with Imelda sitting in the front row next to Drusilla, same as they do in the Throne Room.
“Felt like tempting fate today, huh, Euclid?” Ivo teases.
Varic does not answer him, nor does he give any indication he heard the snatcher.
