Page 77 of Burn Her They Said
Drusilla carries on with her duties as if nothing has changed while my vision blurs and I try to ignore all that goes on around me, desperate for the ability to crawl back into the recesses of my mind. Instead, despair coils around my organs when I cannot separate from the world around me, taking in too much, from the sensitivity in my hearing to everything that touches my skin. This level of alertness refuses to wane despite my lack of energy to sustain such vigilance.
I pull in a deep breath and hazard a glance in the mirror. Moonlight casts a subtle glow over Varic’s profile, with shadows drawn from the curve of his lashes, highlighting the angle of his cheekbones and the ridge in his upper lip.
Sighing, I tear my gaze away, yet it does nothing to remove the power his presence has over me. Fear blossoms in the center of my heart, coursing out through my veins to infiltrate every part of my being, terrified of what is to come should his mere existence render my mind incapable of distancing from the present. A trick I have needed to survive this long, and one which I will wither even faster without. I am certain of it.
“Something’s off with you,” Drusilla muses.
“Oh?” I ask, the surprise in my tone obvious.
“You keep moving around when normally you’re as still as a statue.”
My spine straightens, and I drop my hands to fold in my lap; then impossibly bright brown eyes find mine in the mirror, and all it takes is a split-second gaze for the trail of heat to climb up my neck.
Her observance breaks something in me. With the stillness she’s come to expect acting as evidence of how dead I have become of late, only speaking and moving when governed, sanctioned, and approved.
No more, a voice says in my mind, sounding like the concerted effort of more than one being’s vocal cords.
“Hmm? What did you say?” Drusilla asks, turning back to face me on her way to the bathing chamber where I am meant to follow, left with nothing to help me endure her rough touch with all the lathering, scrubbing, rinsing, and drying of this shell we call my body. With nothing to aid me in detaching from reality when she dresses me in unnecessarily revealing nightclothes, before ensuring I am in bed with all five of my Guards surrounding me.
Suffocating me. No semblance of privacy.
Day after day after day.
“Come,” Drusilla quips. “Hurry up.”
I swallow a sigh and pivot to follow her, then halt when I catch Varic’s expression as his eyes burn with an inferno raging behind his irises. His ears are bright red, while his knuckles are white where he clenches his fist over the grip of his sword at his hip.
If looks could kill, he could murder her right here and now—which is so out of character for him. I can’t seem to reconcile it.
Varic turns to find me staring at him, and the heat in his gaze singes from a single glance.
I need to get used to this.
Yet, those splotchy red patches grow like vines on my skin. Flushing every time I make eye contact with my Lead Guard is too much on top of everything else we have to contend with.
Drusilla taps her boot impatiently, glancing from Varic to me. “This flushing pattern—” she says, pointing at my chest. “I’ve only seen it on you a small number of times before. It’s never been this persistent, though. It’s almost as if it might have something to do with your new Lead Guard.”
“That’s enough.” Varic storms across the room, and my heart slams into my breastbone when his form curves down to peer into my attendant’s light gray eyes while his own appear to darken. “You will treat her with the kindness and respect she deserves.”
Drusilla lifts her chin in contest. “I do not command you in your duties, and you will not?—”
“You will treat her with the respect she deserves.” He straightens to tower over her as I deflate in my frustration, because he doesn’t understand. Hendry tried, and she will only work harder to prove she can get away with treating me cruelly now that he has challenged her like this.
Drusilla scoffs and disappears around the corner of the bathing chamber where I am to meet her. I stall to send Varic a look of warning as an urgent knock snaps his attention to the wooden doors behind me. His boots squeak as he storms across the gray marble floor where he waits for Malin to undo each of the locks before prying the door open.
“The Imperial Grand Witch Tasch is required by the Emperor,” an unfamiliar Guard’s voice claims.
Varic raises his brows, and I roll my lips inward to cage the laugh brewing from amusement with his lack of formality since Hendry was never so expressive.
“May I inquire as to what Imperial Grand Witch Tasch is required to attend?” Varic asks.
“Emperor Aldritch requires her in his chambers,” the Imperial Guard says.
Varic takes a deep breath and nods to the rest of my Guards.
“I am still dressed in formal attire. Does—” I begin to ask.
“Come as you are, witch,” the Imperial Guard says, and my eyes narrow at the sorcerer who stands awkwardly, hiding his right hand and garnering my suspicion.
