Page 261 of Burn Her They Said
He slumps over once he’s safely placed it on the ground, and my heart stutters with his dire need for healing. Where the fuck is Cirrin?
Fray holds me tightly to his chest, and I send Malin more focus and concentration. I spare him a speck of hope when my body shakes uncontrollably in revolt. A warning of what’s to come should I deplete my magic much more than this.
“That’s not a good sign, Tasch,” Fray warns, heating my cheeks with his admonishment.
“I held the Emperor and his Guards back as long as I could!” Drusilla’s voice carries from somewhere behind us.
Lars, Fray, and I all turn in confusion as my attendant deftly climbs over a small pile of stone, and my brow furrows as her black dress appears to be far cleaner than the rest of us.
“We’ll keep Malin stable,” Imelda says, rushing up just behind Drusilla as if they’ve been working together—especially with the knowing way her big brown eyes cast up to mine.
“There are other witches holding them back as long as they can, but you need to go now, Tasch,” Drusilla warns.
Lars’ blue eyes stare at me in question while offering each of them a hand to steady their descent. I remain frozen in place, assuming this has to do with them holding hands in a circle of witches at the bottom of the stairs. Perhaps they learned some new magic in Annovia. Could they be responsible for the ceiling caving in, only to make it seem like an attack planned by outsiders?
“He will come looking for you.” Drusilla’s pale brows rise as her gaze shifts from me to Fray, then back. “You need to go. Now!”
Fray nods to her, then reaches into the side compartment of his leathers.
“No!” I yell as he draws out the leather harness, then winds it tightly behind my back. He switches off which hand braces me, and the hooks click as he secures them on the opposite side.
“We cannot leave until we find them!” He wraps both of his arms around my back and ignores my command as he propels us up with nauseating speed.
No. No. No. This can’t be happening.
“We have to make sure they’re alive!” My heart lurches, and our surroundings meld into one giant blur when I snake my hand out of his grip to reach toward the last place I saw them.
The air grows colder the higher we fly, and I try to focus as heavy sobs rend from me. I blink as the haze dissipates the higher we rise, and furrow my brow at the now missing dome which once capped our Throne Room.
My chest constricts from the nothingness which hovers where stone once rose so high above our heads every time we were made to stand on that stage. At how it has all now crumbled and plummeted to the ground within.
Where Varic and the rest of my Guards are trapped.
Where I have no way of knowing if they’ve made it, if they’ve survived.
Because if Varic were alive, he would have stopped at nothing to find me.
He would have shielded my body. He would have been there beside me.
He would have responded when I screamed.
Chapter Eighty-Six
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Varic
Screams pierce my eardrums, and my vision has vanished.
Where is Tasch?
I can’t see a damned thing as I feel around, with grime and grit stinging my palms.
Why aren’t Fray and Lars bickering, or why isn’t Malin making commentary?
Words stick—tacky like tar—entrapped in my mind and throat.
I need to scream. I need to know what in the fuck is happening.
