Page 62 of Burn Her They Said
He forces out a breath and shakes his head. Then his eyes seem to glaze over, and damnit, I’ve already lost him again.
Risking his ire, I squeeze his hand with the intention to do so all four times when he swivels to pin me with a warning.
“Please, Tasch. You don’t?—”
“You’re right. Because you refuse to tell me its meaning. So if you would please inform me, I could know whether or not I mean to impart this sentiment I am pressing into your skin, the same you have done to me for as long as we have known each other.”
His chest rises and falls, while a sense of triumph fills my ribs with the fact he just pulled in what seems like a deep breath.
My eyes flick from the uneven ground to him, waiting for any indication of whether or not his panic is still present.
“I…I can’t,” he says, and I nod.
“Then if you will let me finish what I was saying earlier.” I tense my hand around his and hold it, giving him the pressure he’s always needed in times of stress. “Look at me. Look at my eyes, Varic. Describe them to me. Please.”
I keep my head turned toward him then pull in a sharp breath now that his pupils have nearly overtaken his irises—and not just from the dim light around us.
He stares at me so intently we fail to notice the terrain and stumble over the sudden change in elevation, though our tight hold on each other’s hands keeps us upright, and we never break eye contact.
“The clear blue of the ocean, brilliantly lit by the midday sun,” he whispers.
Tingles light beneath my cheeks.
“What else,” I barely manage.
“The brightest blue,” he says wistfully. “Aquamarine.” His tone has shifted. Resolute.
“The gemstone?”
He nods, seemingly distracted from our surroundings.
I spare a tendril of curiosity to detect his fear has dissipated while amusement and wonder return through our connection.
His brows knit with focus as the tunnels curve around the first Emperor’s elaborate crypt, followed by the highly decorated memorial for Mythsea, the Dragon for whom First Emperor Aslo returned her precious egg, which earned us the right to this land.
The shrines take up so much of the confined space that no one should see us holding hands, yet when the pathway opens wider, he squeezes me quickly—all four times—before we release each other, and my heart aches with the need for more.
Varic glances behind us before turning back to me. My heart leaps when he reaches across the short distance to graze the side of his pinkie finger alongside my own.
Warmth spreads within my chest, and tingles scatter up from the contact—intensifying the urge to grab hold of the leather harness crisscrossing his chest and shove him into a dark corner.
Guards shove open the old wooden door to the small landing leading to the top of the Stairway to the Stars, whose spiral design is considered treacherous even for those more surefooted than me. Varic’s eyes rise to the higher ceiling, with his entire being relaxing now that plenty of space exists around us.
We take the wide staircase in sets of three, with Malin, Cirrin and Lars walking ahead, while Fray and Varic fall in on either side of me. Varic offers his hand, which I refuse, needing to prove I can handle a staircase such as this without assistance.
Failing to do so immediately, as I misjudge the first step and catch the toe of my boot on the edge when the muscles in my leg buckle. Varic swoops down to grasp hold of my waist to keep me from falling sideways.
My voice cracks as I offer him my thanks, to which Varic nods as he helps me straighten, removing his hands now that I am stable.
Fray offers his arm to steady me while issuing Varic a self-satisfied smirk.
I shake my head at their apparent rivalry and pivot to look at either wall in study of the marble reliefs depicting different scenes from the time of the Dwarf King’s reign. Flames dance over iron sconces, casting a glow over each of the historical moments carved by the dwarves, whose king so famously commissioned this staircase to be built for his wife, the Witch Queen, with the intent for the staircase to carry her to the top of the mountain so she might lie beneath her beloved night sky in relative safety from their enemies.
The staircase remains unfinished, as the landing to the secret entrance was the last level completed before the dwarves were forced to flee due to the prejudice of sorcerers and witches, who, in their hatred of the interracial couple, assassinated the Witch Queen while she slept in the clearing beneath her beloved stars.
It is said that in his bereavement, the Dwarf King had this section of the mountain cordoned off to preserve the memories of their union, with only two scenes having been desecrated, appearing as if someone chiseled away certain details.
Without thinking, I raise a hand before Varic’s chest to run my fingers along the damage over which the culprit might have felt so compelled to destroy—or hide—from themselves or us. My favorite scene is the one with the royal couple standing before the arched windows inside what appears to be a bedchamber, where they look at each other with such devotion, while everything below their shoulders has been obscured by chisel marks.
