Page 23 of Burn Her They Said
Yet we must make a show of it, so Cirrin splays his hand over my back as the blue-green mist envelops me, temporarily relieving my joint pain and lethargy while barely taming the flames beneath my skin.
Seemingly satisfied, the Emperor turns to address Wyrth, whose own attention turns to mine, making a point of narrowing his eyes. I raise my goblet in salute, pulling my lips inward to staunch the laughter from building when he grimaces before turning back to the Emperor.
* * *
Lamplight amplifies the warmth in his golden-brown skin, and his eyes appear too bright to be real, as if lit from within.
* * *
That raw, exposed feeling washes over me now. The same way I felt the first time our eyes met. With a tell-tale heat lingering, I’m drawn in as some tether pulls taut around my heart. The hair on my arms and neck stands as my vision retracts inward?—
* * *
The black of my dress is a stark contrast to the white bedding he’s been hiding under, leaving me feeling naked and exposed, even though I am fully clothed. His gaze conveys an understanding—the kind I wouldn’t have thought possible—like an inherent acceptance is being communicated from behind his irises in a shared moment between two beings.
* * *
It was real. I know because I felt it. I feel it still.
Heat grazes my skin, then a sense of warmth and comfort brings on another vision?—
* * *
A round, weathered table in the middle of a cozy kitchen. Laughter carries through the small space while Varic spoons more roasted potatoes onto our son’s plate…
* * *
Tears well in my eyes, obscuring the untouched meal cooling on my own plate presently, just before my mind takes over with a wish for the future?—
* * *
Hinges creak as I take a quick peek inside our daughter’s bedroom, where her little head rests over Varic’s chest as he reads her the story of the young witch living in a land where each magical being has the right to practice any of their inborn magics. This particular young witch happens to prefer flight, terrifying her parents. “You wouldn’t do that to us, would you?” Varic asks, smoothing her hair over her temple as a wry smile, matching that of her father’s, rises up her cheeks.
* * *
I draw in a breath, unable to see anything as another vision overtakes me.
* * *
I place a kiss over the dark brown, unruly waves atop our son’s head as I stare down at him, marveling at the thick line of lashes he must have inherited from Varic as I rise from his bed, careful not to wake him. Varic meets me in the hallway after I sneak out, grinning as he gathers me up in his arms while I greedily inhale his warm spice scent. He sways with me in place, squeezing tighter before releasing me to cradle my head in his hands. His expression fills with admiration and desire, eyes darkening as they flick up to mine just before he leans in and claims my lips with his own.
* * *
The heat of his attention has grown to be too much, urging me to look. Perhaps one glance might offer me the reprieve I so desperately need, maybe even capable of diluting the urge to repeat the action.
So I take the risk, and the depth of his gaze pulls me in, drawing tears which overflow, though I’m well practiced at this and conceal each within the threads of a black fabric napkin before anyone sees them.
But this was a mistake. I am distracting him from eating, as his own plate remains untouched like my own, yet I do not seem to possess the power to break this spell.
“Witch,” His Majesty commands me as I turn away from Varic, his face falling while I plaster on the mask of deference as I pivot to meet His Majesty’s eyes, unprepared to absorb the level of rage roiling inside.
My stomach drops, and I bow deeper than usual.
“You will respond when spoken to.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
He lunges for me, forcing the tip of his nose to press into the peak of my cheekbone, and my nostrils flare with his sulphur scent mixed with the odor of wine on his breath. “I will not accept this level of insolence.”
