Page 95 of Burn Her They Said
“Why you never retain the information, I’ll never understand.” A deep sigh seeps from between my telekinetic Guard’s lips before he acquiesces. “The energy is different—wobbly, or uneven. Often it’s more jagged—whereas the inborn magic one uses the most is smoother, more even. It’s easy to discern when you’ve used this magic since childhood,” Malin says, and Fray nods.
Lars clears his throat and catches my eye with a meaningful look, so I straighten my spine to prove I am listening. “Before we were interrupted by Fray’s penchant for curiosity, you asked how we are still alive, so I will tell you,” he says, though it was Malin who interrupted him. “The second Fray soared out the window, I went to dive for the bomb so I could run it into the woods.”
“But instead of bear-hugging the bomb and running away with it, he bounced off of an invisible force-shield and fell flat on his ass,” Cirrin explains with a slight smile pulling on his full cheeks.
I knit my brows and look to Varic for confirmation, to which he nods, staring back at me with such intensity I drop my gaze and study the ripple of the sigil tattoo flexing over the back of his hand as he lifts a glass to his lips. I pull in a shallow breath as he sets it down to take off in a stride filled with urgency toward me.
“Malin raised the bomb off the ground so that Varic’s suppression bubble could surround it mid-air, so it wouldn’t obliterate your floor,” Lars adds, beaming with pride at the sorcerer in question. “Or so we assume, since we’ve never known force magic to suppress a bomb before.”
Heat spreads up my chest as I turn back to Varic’s pained expression from where he stands so close, the front of his thighs press into the bedframe, compressing the bit of bedcovers which have fallen over the side.
“Remember when you taught me how to focus my energy on a more concentrated area so that my attacks could be more precise? Then you helped me gain more control over how much power I expel every time I blast?” I nod, almost laughing at how he has no idea just how often I recount every second of our time together.
“Well, I continued to practice everything you taught me after you left.” He pauses, dropping his gaze to my hands folded neatly over my lap. “And I have since learned to modify a force-shield to act as what we can call a protective shield in order to contain something?—”
I raise my brows and say what I assume he would have, “Explosive.”
Lars zooms forward to clap Varic on the shoulder and says, “It seems the new leader of your Guard can suppress the most destructive bomb in existence inside his force bubble.” The tone of his voice is sincere as he looks at Varic with a mix of awe and gratitude.
“He called it a protective shield,” Malin corrects, side-eyeing.
“The fact that I am able to sit here,” I begin, shaking my head, “on a plush bed inside of a safe house, which was built for this purpose, with all five of my surviving Guards gathered around me, because the sorcerer I was sent to rehabilitate all those years ago has expanded upon a skillset I taught him—” I cannot seem to stop shaking my head as Varic studies me, his amber eyes shifting and changing as different emotions flit behind each.
“Do you understand the gravity of this reversal?” I ask, as Varic’s expression turns almost sheepish. “You have trained your magic to save the lives of the most important beings in the Continent to me, in a way we’ve never known to be possible, with the same inborn power you once detested, simply by using it with more awareness and finesse.”
A flush spreads over each of his cheeks until it reaches the center of his nose as he smiles back at me. Then all at once—it’s as if his energy has finally been tapped from all that’s happened—Varic collapses.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Safe
“Lars!” I shout, as a bright red streak speeds to wrap Varic’s weak frame in a tight side hug, where he rests Varic’s head against his shoulder before it drops.
I lunge over the bed with dread constricting my chest because Varic’s skin is far too pale and his eyes appear vacant, lacking their typical calculating discernment. I’ve never seen him like this. Not even when I thought he had experienced the worst of what his magic could do to him.
“Here,” I say, patting the mattress as I shuffle back to make room for him. “Help him up on the bed. He needs to rest.” I grab hold of the top sheet and tear it down the bed, heart pounding as I trace every move Lars takes in assisting Varic. Tears sting my eyes in the absence of protest from him, while more threaten to spill over the ridge of my lashes the longer he remains silent, especially when Lars lifts his legs to rest atop the soft white sheets.
This isn’t my Varic. He is never this quiet. Not even when he’s hurting, or tired.
And neither is Lars, which might be more concerning, as he stares down over the sorcerer paying the price for saving us all with his energy. Because if Varic, Lars, and Fray are all this silent, we can be sure the situation is grave.
Cirrin steps in, all attentiveness and care as he steadily unties the laces on each of Varic’s boots before turning around to place them by the door.
Varic releases a breath when his head falls back to the center of the fluffy down pillow. “Thank you,” he mutters, eyes closed. “I’ll only need a minute.”
A loud scoff tears from me, though my derision is the last thing he needs, and it is not lost on me how I have probably been guilty of saying the same.
Time passes slowly, and all I can do is stare down at him. One, his chest rises, then falls. My heart sinks with a prickling sensation overtaking my skin. Two—oh thank the Gods, his chest rises—and my heart and mind become enraptured in celebrating every rise of his chest while fear screams that each time it falls, it might be the last.
Each of my Guards meet my gaze when I finally tear mine away, needing their attention to explain something they may have already determined.
“I won’t be able to spare the magic to help you stay awake tonight.” Malin, Lars, Cirrin, and Fray nod. “Which means you’re going to need to take shifts?—”
“No,” Varic interrupts.
I turn and quirk a brow at him, though his eyes remain closed. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“We will not be taking turns sleeping, if that’s what you meant.”
