Page 211 of Burn Her They Said
“Not yet,” the melded voices of the ancients warn inside my head.
I shudder from the power held within their message, then shake with the need for Varic to be safe. Conflicted with the need to take action and the urge to heed their warning. Having never expected the Emperor to even consider stabbing his prized force sorcerer with his magic.
He leans in and says something to Varic, while I curl my hands into fists from the level of fury, raising the hair on my arms and neck as a different sort of heat builds in my chest.
Varic’s expression is strained, and I send him a tendril of my love to try to help. His face contorts, making no indication he’s received it—and that’s all it takes to propel something from me—some unfamiliar wave of power that slams against the door to our carriage so hard, it latches itself shut, making it so those inside it must witness my wrath through a small section of glass.
My magic expands within me, rippling and roiling beyond anything I’ve experienced in years. Invigorating me with a tingling sensation different from the way Varic’s shield feels, as if something is imbuing me with a strength not even Cirrin’s healing can bring.
I am filled with the wish for nothing more than to use this newfound energy to strike His Majesty down so that I might tend to Varic—when that same sorcerer sends me a thread of concern and resolve through our magic.
His Majesty grabs hold of Varic’s chin, and I swallow against the bile rising when he twists the weapon in his chest. “You will explain what you were doing and why you felt it was worth breaking your vow to my little witch.”
I send Varic my own concern, and his eyes flick over in warning. He shakes his head while I gaze back in wonderment, when any sorcerer experiencing what he is should be on the ground, writhing.
Emperor Aldritch releases Varic’s chin before turning around to sneer in my direction. “I ordered you to enter your carriage.”
“An order I will comply with the moment you release him.”
Varic slumps, and guilt strikes my stomach as I conjure every bit of fear to send—no. Not fear. That only powers the tyrant. I abandon the threads I had gathered and weave calm and contentment, then imbue the Emperor with those instead, with the intent of tricking him into releasing us, unsure how much longer Varic can maintain whatever he is using to keep the Emperor’s power from causing him harm.
“You will do as I say, or else there will be consequences.”
My heart leaps from the venom laced in his tone before Lars’ promise resounds in my mind—“We will make sure the contingencies His Majesty claims to have in place can never be acted upon.”
I turn back to meet Lars’ gaze, which brims with concern for Varic and me. My cheeks lift in a shaky half-smile, entirely confident he would never lie about this. None of my Guards would dare make such a claim without having found a way to subvert His Majesty’s contingencies. And wouldn’t they stop me if it weren’t accurate? Wouldn’t they be stepping in if they had any doubt that my actions now could hurt innocents? While I cannot fathom how their plan can work, I trust them, with every part of my being.
So I spin back around to pin the Emperor with a glare and imbue him with more threads of complacency, showing him how I will not allow him to hurt Varic. Not after he just came back to me. Not after all that we have endured. Even though I do not know what may come from this decision, I will place my trust in my Guards and their promise.
“There are always consequences, Your Imperial Highness. Every action we take begets them.” My voice comes out cold and venomous, startling even me as the Emperor stares back with a furrow in his brow. “Now, if you will release my Lead Guard, we will both climb inside my carriage, as you have commanded.”
His Majesty turns back to Varic, who sends me a look of warning just before the fucking snatcher drives the weapon in further.
Varic drops to his knees and I rush toward him.
“Don’t,” Varic whispers.
But not even his caution can stop me from releasing more of my power into the Emperor. I pulse thread after thread of peace and calm into the sorcerer whose strength is but a fraction of all I contain. My magic reduces His Majesty’s wards into nothing as my power proves to be too great a match for him.
Though I must be careful. I cannot ignore how he feeds on the fear and fury of all those he forcibly controls. My magic extracts the anger he directs toward me and every other being he blames for his self-made misery, capturing as much as I can until my body shakes from the effort. Yet I cannot stop. No matter the toll. I need to siphon all that strengthens him—to protect Varic in the only way I can.
“You will not succeed in manipulating me, witch,” he sneers as he turns to face me.
“But isn’t that my entire purpose?” My voice no longer sounds like my own, though it is not hers, nor the ancients speaking—but a version of myself I have not yet been introduced to. “Isn’t manipulating your mood exactly what you command me to do? Isn’t the act of manipulating you, and those with whom you interact, the entire reason you have appointed me as your Imperial Grand Witch?”
An exhilarating hum thrums through my body, playing the notes of a song only I know, building higher with the power coursing within my being. This is it. I can feel it.
I am in my element, and nothing and no one can take this from me. Not anymore.
Varic’s chest still rises, and I send him threads of my care and compassion. Then I shift my focus to deftly replace every thread of anger the Emperor feels with tendrils made of satisfaction and contentment, manipulating him for his own good, as well as our own.
“Isn’t that what you always tell me? That a witch’s worth lies in her contribution to our glorious Empire? And with my responsibility being to you, and the mitigation of your moods, I will maintain my vow to you, Emperor. Regardless of your command to the contrary.” Panic flares within his chest, and I siphon it. I greedily steal his power from him as I feed on his fear while my words act as a distraction.
“And since my magic detects you are riddled with distress, I will take it from you. Just as I vowed in the sacred scroll, locked away inside the Temple. The one you made me sign with my own lifeblood, stating how I will tend to your mood and contain your anger. I will be the witch you’ve made me, Emperor.”
His mouth drops open as I pull, push, force, and hold. I will not allow him to hurt Varic—even if he is being kept safe through forces I do not understand.
This tyrant who has no awareness of the rage he has stoked within me. Who will never know the anger of a witch who has been forced to hold the hand of a spoiled Prince. Who has been made to take on the role of a false queen and to give my own blood as a blessing. To worship their Goddess and survive yet another explosion, only to be taken captive by the same royal whom I was made to dance with before an audience.
