Page 51 of Burn Her They Said
My heart lurches. “What did you say?”
“That while your role is to manage others’ emotions, you are also a being with feelings. I explained how I thought it best to provide comfort to our Empire’s greatest asset while she was grieving the loss of her Lead Guard.”
Bile rises and burns my throat.
“How did he react?” Cirrin asks.
“He left the room without uttering a word,” Varic confirms.
Haze overtakes my vision the closer we move toward the dining hall, with the weight of every complication brought on by Varic’s new role settling in my bones.
Chapter Eighteen
Congratulations
The last thing I feel is celebratory.
Yet I must pretend to accept the fact Hendry’s name has yet to be mentioned or honored for his years of service protecting the Emperor’s pet witch. A role which he performed without complaint, and apparently without respect in death.
Every muscle in my legs cramps and spasms, unable to carry my beleaguered body into the dungeons with my typical air of feigned dignity. Varic’s constant attention makes the endeavor all the more challenging as he assesses my needs—a discomforting reminder of how weak I have become with my inability to ignore his level of concern transferring to me.
Each step is made up of sheer mental fortitude, and my heart lurches against my ribs the closer we move toward the last room Hendry ever entered.
Sorrow and despair replace every other emotion, weighing me down until it seems the only way for me to remain standing will be to have my Guards strap me to the wall behind us.
Yet I must pretend my mind does not recall how my last interaction with my former Lead Guard was filled with consternation and dread.
The crowd parts ahead of us, drawing my attention to the witch who bore me as she drags my father by the hand to stand at the front of the audience now gathered to gawk at our spectacle. Her finest black gown hangs from her bones while her long brown hair is perfectly pinned in a style similar to my own, so obviously intended as a nod to our tenuous connection.
She beams at me, the only offspring she has left, after Wyrth failed to save my younger brother in childbirth, suffering the loss only a short time after she sold me to the Emperor. And while I can empathize, the loss itself cannot remove the resentment I feel from her giving me over to the tyrant, all so she could have a reason to feel important.
Every eye in the room casts to the entrance, where the Emperor and his Guards stream inside, the tiny spy notably missing from his shoulder. His Majesty sways once he pauses in the middle of the dance floor, with sinister shadows casting over his features. Mille, His Majesty’s healer, scans our ruler's form with his crystal blue eyes before taking his arm in hand to imbue him with energy in another futile attempt at steadying his balance.
Emperor Aldritch raises his crystal goblet, spilling a thin layer of wine over the lip as he salutes us. “To my little witch and her newly appointed Imperial Lead Guard Varic!” the Emperor drunkenly slurs before hiding his cough behind a loose fist, proving he has had more than his share of wine in celebration.
Varic bows, despite the lack of proper court decorum from our announcer, as cheers erupt.
I sway to the left, and Malin’s hand snakes around my lower back, preventing me from falling as he takes hold of my hip, his strong fingers curving to pull me into him. I hazard a quizzical glance up to his hazel eyes, which he fixes forward, uncertain as to why he’s using his body rather than his magic, since the Emperor would never approve of anything which makes me appear weak. Malin is usually so calculated in his decision-making that he must have some ulterior motive, or else he wouldn’t dare to behave like this. Especially not as the only telekinetic capable of wielding his power without detection, and who otherwise does not seem to shy away from using it.
“Malin,” Lars whispers, leaning in close to his ear. “What are you doing?”
Varic turns with confusion coursing from his body to mine as he assesses Malin’s unusual posture, carving a trail with the heat of his gaze as it traces everywhere my telekinetic Guard’s body connects with my own. His ears turn a deep crimson the longer he stares, until a quiet laugh slips past Malin’s lips.
“Are you hurt?” Varic leans in to whisper.
“No, I just—” I begin.
“Why aren’t you using your magic?” Lars bends to admonish Malin under his breath. “His Majesty will rage if he sees you doing this.”
“Release her.” Varic’s voice is stern and low, as light draws my attention down to where amber sparks emit from Varic’s palm. “Now.”
The tingling warmth of his amber shield rises from the bottom of my feet and up my legs to cover me everywhere Malin and I make contact.
“Finally,” Malin sighs, releasing his hold. “I knew you’d catch on.”
Varic furrows his brow before turning to look at me in confusion since I no longer waver on my feet.
“Cirrin, heal her,” Varic commands.
