Page 94 of Burn Her They Said
I changed my mind. I can’t wake up to a world without them. I won’t make it.
I need this dream to last. I can’t handle the anguish that will come when I wake to find them dead. My sobs grow louder—stronger—and my cheeks feel wet with tears.
“You did it, Cirrin! She’s okay!” Fray exclaims.
Hysterical laughter tears through me, sniffling. In this way at least, I can keep them with me. I never wanted a life with Guards by my side at all times, but now that they’re gone, I want nothing more than for them to exist beside me forever.
“Tasch? Are you awake?” Cirrin asks, rubbing circles over my shoulder with warmth and pressure which feel too real for me to believe this is just a dream.
I sit up abruptly, dazed and blinking, then wait for my vision to focus. My hands roam to grasp the closest thing—a warm hand wearing a smooth metal ring on the pinkie finger.
My jaw drops, and my eyes finally adjust enough to see Cirrin sitting on the bed before me.
His kind brown eyes stare back at mine, though he’s so full of concern and stress, his deep brown skin is etched with more severe lines than I’ve ever seen creasing his forehead.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Cirrin runs his hands up and down my arms when I jolt forward, pulling him into a desperate hug as my cheeks wobble against his chest, too weak to do anything but melt into him as he pats my back gently.
“Shh shh shh.” He shifts, lifting his hands up to cup my face with a smile before shaking his head as I smile back, tears spilling.
“You gave us quite the scare, mei waella.”
My heart leaps at the sound of Varic’s voice, and I am shocked I don’t snap back immediately to be able to see him. Yet something slows me down, and I extract myself from Cirrin’s grasp in slow motion, only to whimper as I turn and capture the exhaustion radiating from Varic’s expression.
Repressing the urge—the incredible sting in my muscles which scream for me to run to him. Every part of my being which yearns to crush him to my chest and breathe him in. To shove him down on the bed and pin him beneath my hips to make sure he never leaves me again.
I need to feel him. To know that he’s real. He’s alive. He’s here. And he’s mine.
“You’re alive,” I croak.
Varic’s cheeks wobble as he presses his lips into a line, glancing from Fray to Cirrin, then Lars.
“How? Wait.” I scan the room, heart sinking. “Where’s Malin?”
Lars’ smile means Malin is alive, and his gaze drifts to the doorway just as Malin walks in. My heart lurches with shock at how good he looks, with only the typical amount of stray hairs having found their way out of his top-knot.
“You’re awake,” he says, and I snort.
“Good to see you, too.”
He nods in response, and I stare at where he shows off with his purple magic trailing in just behind him, swirling beneath a tray carrying a pitcher of water and a glass for each of us. He sets it on a side table near Fray, who lounges on the opposite side of the quaint room in what must be one of the many safe houses hidden across the Empire. My heart clenches at the way Fray reclines so far back his long legs stretch out from the dark brown leather chair angled in the darkest corner—which I hope to be the reason his pale skin appears grayer than usual.
His hand trembles as he reaches beneath his collar, tugging on my heart as he gently pulls on the black leather cord until he frees the green glass vial. He noticeably deflates, releasing a breath once his fingers make it all the way around the vessel, verifying it’s still intact.
“What is it with you and that thing?” Malin scoffs.
“Have you forgotten every other time I have explained it to you?” Fray asks, narrowing his eyes as he tucks the vial back. “I swear to you, there will come a day where it will be useful, and you will regret ever having teased me about wearing it, or caring if it is intact.”
Malin opens his mouth to answer when Fray cuts him off.
“Here, let me ask you a question. How are you able to tell when someone’s using unsanctioned magic again?”
Malin’s eyes fall closed as he drops his head back, emitting a rare groan in response.
“I have explained this to you,” Malin complains. “Countless times.”
Fray shrugs, leaning forward to brace his forearms over each thigh.
Cirrin moves closer, propping himself against a bedpost as I sit farther back on the mattress, while Lars pours water into each of the glasses before Malin grabs one with his telekinesis and delivers mine in a swirl of purple mist.
