Page 107 of Burn Her They Said
“Cirrin.” Varic’s attention swivels to my healing Guard. “You and Brea will fly to our left, healing Tasch as she needs it during our journey.”
“Understood,” Cirrin says.
“Malin, you will fly ahead of us, acting as our scout and removing any obstacles in our way, should they arise.” Malin simply blinks.
“We need you to keep one eye on the sky,” Varic says, looking at Lars, “and the other on the rest of us should we need assistance.” My speed Guard taps his fist to his chest twice in agreement.
“Go safely secure your harnesses, and let’s be on our way,” Varic says, dismissing them.
He turns to Minea, adjusting the harness where it appears he has already added the attachments for a second rider. I pull my arms tighter around myself to ward off the chill as best I can while standing next to the majestic beast who will carry me back to my place of imprisonment.
Varic triple-checks every latch and strap, pulling on each of the buckles to ensure they’re secure. Anxiety and fear radiate from his every pore as tiny tendrils of each seek me, his own body recognizing his need for the kind of reprieve only I can provide. I pull on the dark strings, tightening my hold, consuming every last piece of his nervous energy—a small gesture I can offer the sorcerer who saved our lives in the most impressive use of force magic I know of.
He rears his head back from tinkering, and warmth envelops me the second his gaze lands on my being.
“You didn’t have to do that.” His voice is filled with appreciation and admiration wound around every syllable.
“I want to,” I tell him, my own voice taking on a similar quality.
His lips part as he hesitates. “Just like I want to care for you.”
My heart pounds heavy against my ribs as he studies the harness he’s checked at least four times before gesturing for me to step closer where the restraints have been set for two riders—except the loops haven’t been attached side by side as I expected. Rather, they’re mere inches from each other, making it seem as if I will be riding under him.
Distress dissipates within my chest, and I pull in a gasp as I turn to pin the eyes of the sorcerer siphoning it from me. At a loss for words, I place my hand on his chest and change the subject. “Do you feel bad for having left your unit?” I ask with my talent of ruining the moment.
He looks down at the ground and appears lost in thought, before lifting his gaze to stare at me pointedly. “Yes, and no.”
A breath passes between us, but I refuse to pry any further.
“I feel bad for leaving them during an exceptionally trying time with Minacia’s forces, but I will never regret vowing to protect you, Tasch.” The edges of his lips lift in a somber sort of smile before he surprises me by turning around to crouch low to the ground, and my stomach lurches when he returns with a single Dragon’s Fury flower held between his fingers. The same as my signet, and protected from being tampered with by Imperial law.
“Why did you do that?” I ask, mindlessly taking the stem between my fingers when he steps closer to grasp the small of my waist and pull me into him.
Sparks scatter beneath the leather, so thin the sensation of his calloused hands is just as exquisite—as if the barrier does not exist between us. His hand glides down until it curves over my hip and I quirk a brow to gain his attention. “Were anyone to find out?—”
“Are you going to turn me in?” he asks with a smirk. “How else would anyone know?”
I bring the face of the flower closer to inspect it and explain, “We cannot keep taking risks like this. You’ve already been using unsanctioned magic.”
Varic’s brow furrows as concern billows across our connection, leaning in to sniff the flower. “Is that?” he asks, taking hold of the back of my head to pull me closer as he draws in another deep breath, smelling my hair. “Your scent. I’ve never been able to place it.” He straightens. “What the fuck, Tasch. This fragrance is so distinct—what reason would they have for infusing your shampoo with Dragon’s Fury essence?”
My brows knit, since there would be no reason for an artisan responsible for crafting the soaps and lotions to take the risk of harvesting enough of this flower in order to infuse mine with a signature scent—even if it is my signet. “There must be another flower that smells the same, or similar.”
Varic takes the flower from me to hold up to his nose again. “No, this is it. Here.” He holds it out for me, and I do as he bids, recognizing the warm floral scent from years of being bathed in it. It’s not quite as sharp as violet nor as sweet as lavender; instead, it is something unique and deeper.
“This is what I have been unable to place ever since the day we met, which means someone has been infusing your products with the essence of a flower known to make someone easier to influence.”
“I understand that’s what the flower’s essence is claimed to be capable of doing.”
“Then you understand my concern.”
“Perhaps, if it had ever been effective. For do you truly believe I would be capable of refusing to do the Emperor’s bidding when dosed with this? Because if that is the case, and Dragon’s Fury has been added to each of my products, then perhaps it is such a minuscule amount as to aid me in feeling less conflicted about all I am made to do against my will.”
“You think someone may be adding this to lessen your discomfort in following the Emperor’s orders?’
“If someone is adding this essence to make me more obedient, then they would need to increase the dosage. Because my mind screams every time he forces me to do something I wholeheartedly disagree with, and it can't possibly make me any more obedient than the threat of harm to innocent orphans.”
Varic’s eyes fall closed, taking a moment to compose himself.
