Page 181 of Burn Her They Said
“I made a vow to serve the citizens of my Empire, and I will not abandon them.”
“You have kept your promise, yet you act as if you are solely responsible for their well-being, while you must also take care of your own safety.”
My eyes narrow at him. “Do you truly believe I am capable of defecting to live some daydream?”
“There is no harm in dreaming.”
Something in his tone sours my stomach, and the tension between us feels solid. He drops his gaze to the rows of trees opposite me when I decide to open my mouth. “You do realize that if I were to defect, His Majesty’s survival would hang in the balance, which means Dragons would rule?—”
The Prince throws his arm out in the space between us, and shouts, “Everyone halt!”
I follow his line of sight, yet I cannot see anything worthy of such concern.
“What is it?” Varic asks. “What manner of threat?”
“Nothing you need to be involved with. I will handle it, though we need to draw back several paces.”
My brows rise, and I nearly click my tongue to make Filly surge forward so I can close in on the Prince to ensure he understands he is not to speak to my…Lead Guard that way. Instead, I wait until we have all moved back along the path to glower in his direction. His own focus is turned toward the ground so he does not see my reaction. I turn to Varic—whose eyes appear to have lost their luster the longer he stares toward the supposed threat. He must feel me staring as he raises his stormy gaze to mine.
My heart lurches at the unique sort of torment he is facing.
“Nothing will hurt me.” I indicate the force-shield pulsing around me. “You won’t allow it. Remember?”
He nods and returns his stare to the area where the Prince remains focused.
“Would you please explain—” I begin to ask, but His Royal Highness cuts me off.
“There is a patch of doomweed I need to dispose of.”
Varic’s expression is just as perplexed as I feel when he shifts his focus, as if he requires visual evidence that his force-shield is still present, reminding me just how close we sit now that we have repositioned. My heart hammers with the heat of his eyes on me, crawling up to settle behind my cheeks.
The Prince closes his eyes with his hands held out to the side, drawing our collective attention as he mutters just under his breath so the rest of us cannot hear what he is chanting.
“Prince Auden,” Varic begins, as the royal slowly opens one eyelid. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing that will harm her, I promise.”
“I would appreciate you clearing any use of spell work near her in the future.”
His Royal Highness’s eyes fall shut again as he nods. Then my own eyes widen when the bright green weed he mentioned rises in the air before him. Pale white roots dangle beneath the rounded leaves as dry bits of earth crumble down to the divot where the Prince magically extracted it from the ground.
Fray and Malin draw their horses nearer, creating a circle around me as the Prince uses his spell to send the weed roughly fifty paces to the right. He tenses his hand into a gesture I’ve yet to see—holding each finger at unnatural angles while his lips form the same word on repeat.
A gasp tears through me as flames erupt and engulf the weed from the tip of its roots to the edges of its vibrant green leaves. The Prince waves his hands in a circular motion, which douses the fire without need for water. His voice rises in volume as he chants more incantations where I can only discern individual syllables, swirling the ash from the incinerated plant into an orb of circulating air just over the tall grass. Then the Prince halts his chanting and flattens his hand to send the mound of ash in a linear line like an arrow through the trees.
Varic’s shield thrums faster and heavier with the beat of his heart, coursing over me like his lifeblood, preventing me from reacting outwardly as I wait for the Prince’s next move to determine what is appropriate after a display of magic like the one we just witnessed.
His Royal Highness releases a breath as he turns to silently address his assembled audience. He nods with an oddly familiar solemnity—his way of communicating the threat has been dealt with, though I sense there must be more to it. Something deep.
“Your Royal Highness, I will send scouts to check the grounds for any more patches which may have sprouted overnight,” the Prince’s guard, Dale, says.
“Why is this weed such a threat?” Varic asks, and I have to turn away as my smile grows broader from the authority in his voice.
“Its essence is fatal, killing in minutes.” Prince Auden’s voice sounds distant as my vision fades—or rather, something resembling a vision takes over my mind?—
His father, the King, lies on the ground with his shirt torn open and missing buttons surrounding the brown skin on his chest. I widen my eyes as his breaths grow more labored while vibrant green veins branch outward from a wound on his shoulder.
My ability to see the world around me snaps back, and I blink.
