Page 38 of Burn Her They Said
“I misspoke.” He stops and clears his throat. “I meant, stop trying to stop crying.”
I open my mouth to argue, yet no words land on my tongue.
A warm hand splays over the needy skin on my back as Varic leans closer and rubs slow, soothing circles. His touch ignites a cascade of sparks everywhere his callouses catch on the fabric, while the heat of his body expands to thaw more of my coldness, dredging up a memory of when I held him like this?—
Gooseflesh rises beneath my touch as I cast my hand along the bare skin of his back while he lies upon his stomach with his arms folded under his chin, and he stares off into the distance. My fingertips draw circles over him, gently ushering him back from whatever entity continuously tries to steal him from me.
“I cannot begin to express how sorry I am.” He pauses his hand over the small of my back, and my heart lurches as he reaches down to grip my hip, pulling me into his side to provide the pressure he must remember I need in times like this.
“No one blames you.” Malin’s deep voice draws our attention.
Varic shakes his head, not allowing Malin to absolve him of this guilt he carries.
“You did not do this, Varic,” I say, with the cloying need to tell them all whose fault it really is. And with his support, I shake with courage as I admit, “I did.”
The energy in the room transforms the moment each of my Guards gives me their full attention, storming forward to swarm the bed, staring down at me in anticipation.
“You heard his warning before we ever set foot on the balcony,” I say, making eye contact with each of them before continuing, “You heard him say he had a bad feeling?—”
“Tasch,” Varic tries, and I hold up a hand to silence him.
“Let her speak,” Cirrin chides, as Varic’s ribs expand next to my own.
“I made him follow me when I should have heeded his concern.”
Fray holds his hand out to me and time stills. The last of my Guards I would expect to offer this kind of contact, despising touch more than anyone, proving how he would rather provide me with comfort than keep any for himself. He flexes his long pale fingers impatiently as everyone else stares in disbelief.
I set my palm over Fray’s, and he places his other hand over the top of it—just like Hendry did as we stood by the window only a few hours before this.
“I need you to look at me,” Fray says, and I do as he bids, lifting my gaze to lock on his moss green irises. “How many times have you had a bad feeling about a situation only for nothing worse than usual to happen?”
I cock my head to the side and try to come up with an example.
“Plenty,” he says, squeezing his thumbs into my hand between his. “Then there have been other times where you may not have sensed anything was about to go wrong?—”
“Then it does,” Lars adds, his voice nearly back to its normal tone.
“You made a calculated guess,” Fray says. “As we all did. Hendry could have chosen to follow us indoors.”
My chest constricts with a sharp pain emanating from inside of my ribs.
“Instead, he made the choice to look over the railing,” Fray continues. “He trusted the rest of us to keep you safe while he looked into something he thought worthy of investigating.”
Malin nods. “You cannot convince us that he would have done anything without believing it was necessary for your safety.”
“But had I not said I believed the…item could be?—”
“Had you lied, you mean,” Cirrin adds, with a hint of mischief.
“You had no reason to say otherwise, at the time,” Lars says.
A sob rises with the kindness of their words, the way in which Varic hugs me to him, and Cirrin’s expression conveying acceptance—it’s too much to take in at once.
“We do not blame you, Tasch.” Fray squeezes my hand once more before he holds it out in offering to the sorcerer sitting next to me, whom he stares at with meaning. “Nor do we blame you, Varic.”
Varic presses his lips in a line as he glances up at Fray to take my hand in his own, and my heart leaps as he turns to face me. “You once helped me to understand how grief is all-consuming. How the vacillating emotions one experiences after a great loss can fell even the strongest among us.”
My breath shudders as he repeats my message back to me so expertly, apparently finding enough meaning in my words to have memorized them.
