Page 186 of Burn Her They Said
“I trust you.” I meet Varic’s softened gaze, then turn to my Guards and give each one a meaningful look. “I trust all of you. And anyone who tries to take any of us will quickly learn that they only think they understand the might of my power, for if they come for us, I will not allow it.” Varic expression turns grave, as if he’s only just considered that I might use my own magic to fight back and protect them.
“And unlike Varic’s ability to blast, I am well-practiced at determining whose hearts I force to stop beating, and I am more than willing to do whatever it takes to make sure we are never separated again.” The sorcerers bound to protect me stare back with unearned reverence after I make the promise to do the same for them.
When, for the first time in memory, I did not offer to allow my magic to drain until my life is forfeit. I did not claim a willingness to sacrifice myself for them.
Because for the first time in my life, I want to live.
For them.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Harvest
Purple clouds line the deep orange sky, casting the back garden in a moody pink hue, bringing life to the otherwise bright white lace elegantly draped over long rows of tables. Vibrant floral arrangements overflow from crystal vases, all artfully placed between silver trays imbued with the warm glow from above.
Annovian servers stand at regular intervals, seemingly without breathing from the way they balance silver trays with glasses of the infamous pink wine, which appears much more mauve in the waning twilight.
“Hypocrites,” Emperor Aldritch sneers at me. “Dressing you up like some living doll. Acting so superior with the claim they give their citizens any more agency than our own, yet this is how they treat a guest of great esteem.” My stomach churns as he studies my appearance, disapproving of my decision to drink the tonic which turned my hair the same brilliant blue as the silk dress the Queen commissioned for me.
His gaze traces the overlapping design of Annovian blue silk barely covering my chest down to the expertly crafted layers gathered at my hip. Its fabric shimmers and flows like a river down to my toes, cascading over my legs with every step, allowing me to revel in the chill of the air as it casts across the exposed skin on my neck and back, with freedom from the constraints of the high-back collar His Majesty always insists I wear.
A blue tendril of hair slips down from my shoulder, and I turn to where Varic’s eyes crinkle over the ridge of his ceremonial mask. My cheeks heat with his ardent appreciation of the way I look when my hair has been let down, as he has not been shy in mentioning it.
Raki crawls to the edge of the Emperor’s shoulder once he crooks his elbow in expectation. A tingling warmth sluices up my side and curves down to the tips of my fingers. My lungs pull in a breath of relief at Varic’s quick thinking, reveling in the way he possesses me to prevent my skin from making contact with our ruler’s uniform.
Yet even with the level of comfort my Lead Guard offers me, I begrudgingly take His Majesty’s arm and force the expression expected of the Imperial Grand Witch. I send Varic a spare bit of my amusement at his need to ensure no one other than him ever touches me again. Then I stifle a laugh as he sends me a thread of mild annoyance back.
Emperor Aldritch flexes his arm to squeeze my hand entrapped between his forearm and bicep. “My little witch, you seem to be distracted.”
“I apologize, Your—” I hold my breath as he crushes my fingers, then clench my jaw to keep from crying out as a purple mist and a wider expanse of amber cast around us. I shake my head as shallowly as possible once I find and latch on to the eyes of each Guard responsible.
“You will be on your best behavior. I have barely required you while we have been here. The least you can do is charm the Queen and maintain the Prince’s attention.”
“Yes, Your?—”
“That’s enough.”
I swallow the words halting mid-way up my throat, while my magic buzzes with the terrifying sense of satisfaction filling His Majesty’s chest—a sign to remain wary, especially with Wyrth’s eyes darting over in my direction.
Dignitaries and diplomats stare from either side of the path we take leading to a pristine white stage. Fairy lights hung above twinkle in their eyes from behind silver filigree masks shaped to represent the woodland creature they were assigned in an endearing ceremony detailed in the book Queen Celine suggested. A gesture of their acceptance as a full Annovian citizen once they reach adulthood, said to have originated after the great droughts which plagued the area many centuries ago.
His Majesty leads me up the small set of stairs with a steadiness I am unused to from him. He glares pointedly at the thrones rising from center stage as we move to the side and await the Queen, while Raki lies over the curve of his shoulder, and Wyrth stares straight ahead with a blank expression.
A cheer rises, announcing the Queen’s arrival from the side entrance of the castle. Prince Auden’s grin widens beneath his silver fox-shaped mask, escorting his mother who wears her own resembling a doe. His hazel eyes find mine as they near the stage, and I lower into a curtsy while His Majesty bows lower than usual.
My eyes narrow as the Emperor straightens without difficulty.
Their guards form a row behind their thrones, crowding the stage with the protective presence required by each of us. The severe expressions coupled with the high level of alertness coming from each make it seem as though the wall of uniforms is closing in, and I don’t need my magic to recognize the impact of the sensation on Varic.
I chance a fleeting glance at His Majesty, who observes the royals with marked intensity, meaning he is unlikely to notice much else. My eyes flick to Raki next, though it shouldn’t detect my shift in attention.
After ensuring the Queen and Prince are otherwise occupied, I allow myself the time to study Varic, whose pupils are nearly the size of his irises, with sweat beading over his temples and labored breaths pulling on the black fabric of his mask.
My power extends to imbue him with threads of calm and peace, and I breathe a sigh of relief once his shoulders relax, then hold in a breath when his eyes catch mine with a glimmer. I scan the faces of those around us to make sure it’s safe, then I turn back to him and allow my lips to form the words, ‘Look at me.’ His mask rises slightly over the peak of his cheek while I extract every spike of fear and dread he allows me access to.
The fabric draws in at his nose before billowing out around his mouth, all while we maintain our gaze when we should look anywhere else. Yet I match his pace, breathing in and out, parting my crimson lips to draw his attention to them.
He blinks before looking away while a wry smile breaks across my face.
