Page 36 of Burn Her They Said
“I’m here,” I promise, sweeping her hair away to cradle her face with one hand while I hold onto her own with my other, then press and squeeze her palm four times, imparting my message without needing to speak it. Though I shouldn’t; it’s so cruel of me to do this without telling her its meaning. Claiming her like everyone else has. Convincing myself this is different, since I expect nothing in return. Simply one way I use to tell her the truth.
Mei waella. Mei meida.
My Tasch. Mine.
“Godsdamnit,” Lars says.
“What? You expected any different?” Cirrin asks with a wry smile forming.
“Like I told you,” Fray adds. “We are fucked.”
Chapter Thirteen
Aftershocks
Glass. Shattered. A shimmering trail of fragments leading to the bed.
“Fly!” Varic screams.
Fray’s arms envelop my torso as we rise?—
“If you think I would ever endanger her, you misunderstand.” Varic’s tone is urgent, prying my consciousness from what seems to be the beginning of yet another nightmare. “While I have not taken the same vow as you, I promise I place her life above my own, and I will protect her with whatever it may take to keep her safe.”
Flames consuming Hendry’s form flash behind my eyelids, and I bolt upright, sucking in a shallow breath as my hand rises to clutch at my chest.
Tears brim with the absence of Hendry’s life force in connection to my own, leaving me with this strange, empty feeling—like a piece of my own soul is missing. The weight of his existence is gone. Lighter, yet harder to carry somehow. As if an integral part of me has been ripped away, leaving a rift in my being no magic could ever repair, helping me to understand what Varic meant when he described the sting of losing a friend due to your own hubris.
Though what I did was worse, because I wasn’t forced to strengthen my magic past any known capacity like he had been. I could have listened to Hendry’s warning. I could have denied it when he asked me?—
“If you truly believe this item could be the key to aiding our cause, so be it.”
“I do.”
“Then we will keep you safe as you explore this option.”
Instead, I was resolute in believing this book might somehow be important, and he maintained his vow to me, unaware of how his trust in my judgment would spell the end for him. If only I had made a vow to Hendry in return, then perhaps I would have taken his life more seriously than the promise of some book, of which we do not know the contents nor have any guarantee that it might end up helping our cause.
Silence fills the cavernous chamber as four somber sorcerers stare anywhere but at the witch who killed their friend, while the only one not bound to me warms my skin with the trail his eyes carve with his gaze, all while sending me waves of sympathy I have done nothing to deserve from him.
Unable to stall any longer, I turn to Cirrin, who barely holds back tears, urging me to go to him, to tell him it’s okay to cry, to let it out, to wail and scream if he needs to—but he knows all of this, especially anytime we are in my chambers. So if he isn’t choosing to express himself in this manner, then he must have a reason, and I will not meddle with the way he chooses to experience his grief.
Malin stands with his back to me, watching the wooden doors as usual. Fray leans on the wall between the windows and my headboard, with tears streaming down his cheeks while staring down at his open sketchbook.
“Fray?” I ask, startling him as he snaps the sketchbook closed and straightens.
Loose tendrils of his raven-black hair fall forward, obscuring his eyes now cast somewhere behind my head. His chest heaves with a sob rending from him, and I reach over, though he doesn’t show any sign of noticing before Cirrin closes the distance to envelop him in another tight hug, whispering something I’m unable to discern.
“Lars,” I try next, as he stares off into the distance while rubbing the back of his neck.
A knot grows in my throat as I consider Malin’s squared shoulders. The sorcerer who is most likely to confirm what I need to hear from someone. To know for certain that I truly sentenced my Lead Guard to death, all based on a hunch at best.
Because if Hendry were alive, he would be here, or the rest of my Guards would have told me if he were merely in the infirmary.
There is one sorcerer who would tell me anything I ever ask of him, yet I cannot seem to make my eyes focus anywhere near his form. Not after the intimacy of our last interaction. Not after he braced me so close to his chest while my healer used his magic to help me fall asleep. The one who must have carried me up several flights of stairs to then lay me on my mattress. Not after he remained, offering me protection and standing in as my interim force Guard. Doing me the kindness of ensuring I did not wake to a relative stranger being appointed to the temporary position in Hendry’s absence.
Cirrin releases Fray with a pat on the arm, and my heart tears open from their outpouring of sorrow. I sink deeper into the mattress with the weight of their suffering as I siphon it, gaining all the proof I need that neither of them is in any shape to explain. Lars seems to be lost somewhere in his mind, and I cannot ask Malin about the death of his closest friend.
Tears overflow, and I swipe them away. My need to know remains, leaving the one who has not served at Hendry’s side, who could relay the events without causing him nearly as much distress. Whose eyes are already trained on mine as I turn to address him, increasing the heat beneath my skin, carrying a sense of admiration, as well as another emotion with an unusual hue, as its signature shifts when coupled with his amber. One which sinks within my chest, feeling both familiar and terrifying, because of how forbidden this one is for us to experience. One I cannot name to myself, because if what I am sensing is accurate—no. I will not entertain the possibility. It is merely a projection. My own wishful thinking.
