Page 93 of Burn Her They Said
“I focus on the being I mean to heal, and I seek out what ails them,” Cirrin begins. “I ask the question in my mind, then await an answer in the form of a pulsing sensation, which communicates where to focus the magic, then a coolness runs from my hands to the source of their need.”
“What exactly are you thinking of doing, Varic? Because if you’re thinking of trying to heal her, you know that’s unsanctioned,” Malin interrupts.
A gift like this is one which spells certain death for yourself and all of those bonded to you, were your ruler to ever find out. Mirinea’s voice repeats.
“I am not going to allow her heart to give out,” Varic seethes.
“The consequence of using unsanctioned magic is death,” Malin says.
“Then turn me in, just please wait until after she’s safe,” Varic grits between clenched teeth, wrapping his hands around my arm, feeling so real it’s cruel.
“No one is turning you in, Varic,” Lars says, pointedly.
“I can feel her pulse as if I’m holding her heart in my hand,” Varic says.
Silence follows as a coolness permeates my skin and swirls within my chest, though it’s fainter and carries a different color than Cirrin’s—because it’s Varic’s—a gorgeous glowing amber.
“That’s a good way to describe it,” Cirrin says. “If you’re feeling her need that clearly, try imbuing her with energy.”
“What does that entail?”
“Focus on the energy inside your own body and imagine sharing it with her, kind of like pressing it from the palm of your hand into her skin—which sounds strange, but it makes sense once you do it.”
More of the amber-hued healing drifts into my dream-state being, feeling more realistic than I’d expect with my mind’s way of remembering and honoring all his magic did for me.
“I think I feel a faint heartbeat—” Cirrin says.
“Everyone try to imbue her like I am. Now,” Varic commands.
“I don’t sense anything like you describe,” Lars says.
“Me either,” says Fray.
“You’re not trying hard enough. There’s no reason only my magic would permeate.”
His healing tugs on me, almost as if it’s pulling me back to the world of the living.
“Come on, Tasch,” Varic cries, and it feels as if a knot forms in the center of my throat. “You can do this, mei waella.”
If I were alive, I would swear a thrill runs through my body when his hands shift up to cradle my face.
I need to wake up.
I can’t do this anymore.
I need this torment to end.
Varic drops a hand to press his fingertips into my wrist. “Cirrin! Her pulse is stronger. Here, feel it.” A different hand replaces his own as he leans in and whispers, “You’re doing it, mei meida. I knew you could.”
A warming sensation unfurls in my chest. Fuck he has a way with words. Then my heart constricts, knowing I’ll never get to learn what these terms he uses for me mean. Because I refuse to demand someone else tell me. It wouldn’t be the same.
“You’re right. It is,” Cirrin says.
“Should we try to wake her?” Lars asks.
My throat constricts at the sound of his voice. Lars—the least likely to have made it out alive.
A choking cry rumbles in my chest, and I curl into a ball over the soft surface.
