Page 254 of Burn Her They Said
Varic’s gaze captures mine with a mix of concern and admiration while I linger within the privacy of the safe room until a tingling sensation courses through my chest, beginning in the center of my heart and reaching down to my stomach.
“We do this for them.” Varic’s tone somehow matches the resolution in my expression.
Cirrin claps him on the shoulder. “We endure for the citizens’ right to a better life.”
“We can do this—for them,” Fray claims.
“All in?” Varic asks.
Our voices rise in unison, bolstering me for the spectacle ahead. “We do this for them.”
Chapter Eighty-Three
Compliance
Low, thunderous drum beats beckon as the ominous tone plays over each of our steps. Tiny tremors rumble through my muscles as we await His Majesty’s admonishment for having stepped away, only to learn he has done the same.
I stretch my neck to try to relieve the tension, aching from the strain of having to present the image of strength and power he will expect upon his return.
The pounding pulse of the music reverberates inside my frame, shaking me as the acolytes spill over the stage. They wave the banners bearing signets for each of my Guards, with the image on Varic’s constricting my chest, for the lightning bolt coursing down the brilliant sun is a bleak reminder the Emperor values Varic for his strength in magic, and nothing more.
My blood boils while the page proclaims Varic’s status as the strongest force sorcerer in the history of the Continent. Then I could swear steam should emit from my skin when the page extolls how his appointment means that my detail is now compiled of only the strongest sorcerers in each form of magic. The page’s announcement stokes the long-burning rage building inside me until it feels as if molten lava flows through my veins.
The page continues, making the required announcements for all the rest of my Guards, listing their titles and powers while I seethe, barely noticing when my own banners are brought on stage. The Dragon’s Fury flower, expertly stitched at the top of the embroidered lines depicting an eclipsed moon, in juxtaposition to Varic’s sun flare.
I turn to my left, where his golden-brown skin and eyes glow from above his ceremonial mask. Just as fiery and vibrant as he ever is. Because of course Varic is the sun, and I am the moon—reflecting his luminance, while obscured in the shadow of our crossed paths. Or is that his form of protection? His shield, helping to sustain what he provides me.
My title is announced along with my power, signaling it is time we make our appearance. Yet His Majesty has not returned, and I do not want to infuriate him further.
Varic leans over as we all pull in a breath. “I’ll be right here with you.”
I nod, then stall—because Varic’s pupils are enormous, unlike they were when I studied them so closely on the safe room floor. Or was I only remembering what they looked like in the past?
No. His pupils reacted to the light then. Now they are so open they resemble someone under the influence of luss essence.
Orange and blue trails of light dance along the dome overhead, cast from torches and moonlight filtering in through the tall arched windows all around us. And I wish to get lost in their movement, though I can’t help but think back to Drusilla handing me a glass of water.
We near our space on the stage as I scan the front pew for the witch who surely wouldn’t dose us with a powerful narcotic—especially not before we were to go on stage in front of a large audience.
Though no buzzy sensation floats through my limbs, except for the intense sense of vitriol which now lands on my being. It’s coarseness apparently shared with me by some witch capable of using this form of magic. But I cannot see any colorful threads tying me to anyone. None other than Varic, and this isn’t tinted with his signature. Just a deep, dark red, nearly onyx.
I lift my gaze to those in the seats on high until I freeze with Sal’s eyes pinning mine.
My magic detects a collective rage vibrating through each of my Guards, as they do not bother to hide the fact they are glaring up at my betrayer.
The Emperor’s entrance music begins once we take our places to the right of his throne. All of us straighten and stare forward so as not to make eye contact with him or his Guards, while I feel the strong urge to look closely at my own, needing to see if their pupils are just as blown out as Varic’s.
Our ruler ignores the custom of sitting upon his throne before beginning the ceremony. Instead, he charges toward the edge of the stage as every Imperial citizen in attendance gazes up as he sweeps his cape behind him with a flourish.
I use this opportunity to turn, and my heart skips when every one of my Guards’ eyes barely has any color left in their irises. Whatever we must have been dosed with has blown their pupils out to the extreme, and my heart hammers with fear of what this could mean. Then they simultaneously cast their gazes upward, and gooseflesh ripples up my skin with the eerie resemblance to the soldiers who marched inside the forest.
A purple cloud floats past me, then curves upward until it reaches Sal. I startle when it slams him back so hard that his shoulders collide with the sorcerers standing behind him.
I hazard a glance at Malin, then stare pointedly to try to gain his attention, yet his gaze remains fixed on his target. So I send a tendril of urgency through his body until stars invade my vision, forcing me to retract what did not seem to make much of an impact.
“Can you believe the size of this audience?” His Majesty preens, spinning with his arms held out above his head. “Take a look around! The majesty of every one of you beautiful beings! This may just be the largest crowd to have ever filled our illustrious Throne Room! Wouldn’t you agree, Imperial Attendant Lorn?”
Lorn nods enthusiastically as His Majesty chants, “Glory to the Dragons! To whom we owe everything!” He thrusts his fist high above his head as thousands of voices rise around him.
