Page 137 of Burn Her They Said
My magic siphons Varic’s rage as it grows so palpable my throat constricts with the fear he might blast his own flesh to prevent him from unintentionally killing us.
Emperor Aldritch raises his brows as a coy smile pulls on the deep-set lines around his mouth, staring at me over the ridge of his goblet. “So pleased to know you have finally come to this realization.” Crystal clinks as he sets the vessel down, tapping his pointer finger on the table twice to demand a refill. “I was beginning to think you would require more drastic measures to ensure your compliance whenever I present you to the Annovian Court.”
My heart skips when his gaze drifts up to Varic.
Purple mist solidifies beside me just before Malin uses his magic to tap my cheek, urging me to eat now that the Emperor has returned his attention to his own plate. I pull in a breath and obediently take the gold fork in hand as my telekinetic Guard commands.
Varic’s mood settles the more food I ingest, so I force more between my jaws than feels necessary. Though judging by the way everyone seems to react about my appetite, I may not be the best at determining what my requirement for sustenance is or should be, were it not so affected by fear and anxiety.
Then, as if summoned by the spirits of whoever cursed my ancestors, Drusilla appears. Her satisfied expression raises the hairs on the back of my neck as the mid-day sun washes out the light gray of her irises, causing them to blend into the surrounding white, while reducing her pupils to the size of mere pinholes. Her expression indicates she must have whispered something I will regret into the ear of our Emperor, or else she would not be staring back at me with such an odd sense of pride emanating from her being.
I swallow the bile rising in my throat and pretend to sense hunger by taking a bite of fruit, hoping the action appeases everyone who cannot seem to help but stare at my every move.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Lucky
If I could trade being trapped in this carriage for the shackles in the Emperor’s secret room, I would make that deal without blinking.
Regardless of the size of this cabin, I could swear the walls swell inward. I’ve traced every decorative element what must be a thousand times, at least, needing anything to capture my interest and help me forget how much longer we are meant to be trapped like this. Yet the wheels amble on, kicking up dust and dirt from the road, and no amount of stating my need to escape this mobile prison will possibly make any difference.
Varic shifts beside me, and I wince as my jaw twinges, increasing the tension to the point I might crack a molar when he reaches across my chest to brace me when the cabin lurches. His fingers curve around my thigh furthest from him as he squeezes, keeping me in place while my heart hammers at Drusilla’s cheeks drawing back.
Despite it being safest for Varic to remove his hand, I rue the moment he releases his grip, taking his warmth and comfort with him. My chest constricts from what little air filters into my lungs, feeling far too thin and in no way sufficient.
I look to Cirrin in desperation for something to fill my mind. Needing a distraction—a different sort of healing, from him.
“Would you tell us a story?”
He lifts his gaze from the storybook he’s read from every day I have known him. “Of course. Any particular sort you’re in the mood for?”
“A new one, if you care to make one up so quickly.”
“If I care to make one up so quickly,” he mocks, grin widening. “You wound me with your lack of faith in my imagination.”
I mirror his expression as appreciation blooms beneath my ribs.
He snaps the book shut and stuffs it in his pocket, then settles back with his hands crossed over his lap. His deep brown eyes flash with excitement—a tell-tale sign his story is forming.
“There once was a young witch who loved exploring so much she would sneak out of her cabin at all hours to traipse through the forest. The problem was, she ignored the warnings her grandmother gave about creatures who steal the young away to their dens.”
I lean to the side, and he scoots in, allowing me to drop my temple to rest on his shoulder, with the cadence of his voice soothing me to sleep without the need for his magic.
“Tasch, I need you to wake up,” Varic commands.
My eyes fly open, and I jerk upright with the sense of urgency rippling from him through my magic.
His force-shield pulses around both Cirrin and me, leaving the rest of them unguarded.
“What’s happening? And why are you only shielding me and Cirrin?”
His mouth opens to answer when the carriage squeaks as it rocks from one side to the other. The view through the small windows is useless in showing us what is happening, as all we can see is the surrounding forest with no sign of Malin or Fray.
Drusilla remains asleep through the havoc, and I send my magic to check on everyone else in the cabin. The bright red of anxiety expands inside both Cirrin and Lars’ chests while Varic somehow remains calm, as if he is so used to certain types of terror that it no longer affects him as it should.
Lars’ skin has turned ashen, so I send him a sense of peace, needing him to believe his love will soon return to him. He turns and locks eyes with me, and my heart skips a beat when his expression softens.
“He’s going to be okay. He will come back soon and tell us what’s happened.”
