Her kind expression peers up at me in my mind, and I wish to tell her how every moment of every day, I want nothing more than to study her face. To hear her laugh—a sound which far too seldom charms my ears. To be her vessel. To contain all that she cannot handle.
I slam my eyes shut and swipe at the tears since I can’t risk anything dulling my senses. I pull on my influence and channel her by conjuring moments when she helped to calm me, comforted me, cared for me so that I might refocus. My breath hitches, but I refuse to hyperventilate. I cannot fail her more than I already have.
I storm down the hall to where that fucking tyrant was said to be resting. Because it has to be him—he has to be the one who found her.
Which means she is safe. He won’t hurt her. He is nothing without her power.
A storm brews in my chest, and the flickering static of lightning licks at my fingertips. The familiar thrum of my magic builds, stinging with the need to burst from my body and obliterate.
I blink away every image of what may have befallen her, because the one promise keeping me from releasing my power—the one promise preventing me from annihilating everything in my path—is the same one I made to her. That I would keep her safe, and she doesn’t need me to obliterate anything to get to her.
I will find her, and she will be safe. She has to be.
The Prince’s letter crinkles in my leathers when I twist to peer around the corner. My lungs depress when I find no sign of her, and I trudge on with the message I refuse to read serving as a motivator.
To ensure she has the opportunity to learn whatever the Prince would have her know.
Because I will find her. I will keep her safe. I will take care of her.
I will not let this be the end of our story.
I will not allow it.
Chapter Seventy-One
Duty
Varic’s absence seems to have detonated the structural integrity of my ribs, leaving an impossible weight to crush my heart and lungs, with every breath requiring too much effort. The thrum of my pulse is barely perceptible, and I hear nothing—neither inside nor outside of myself.
I pull on my magic and cast it outward, meaning to track him. My heart kicks harder the longer it takes, and I begin to give up hope when it thrums once it finds him—returning his amber-hued anxiety and determination. I siphon what I can of the fear he’s experiencing, stealing bits and pieces to feed myself. I need to maintain this tether on him for as long as I can. Needing to know if he’s alive, if my power will allow it.
What if he doesn’t make it to the Queen’s quarters?
White haze invades the edges of my vision, and the magic I send to him flickers.
What if he never comes back?
The haze grows thicker, crowding in until I can barely see anything.
What if I never see him again?
Every muscle in my body quakes, and I slam my eyes shut while everything in me pleads for the terrible images plaguing my mind to stop their assault. I shudder when the subtle hum of his intensity coursing back through my magic snaps. Losing my connection to him. Left without answers. Unable to sense him. Lost. Adrift.
Until the pain sinks in.
Claws and fangs belonging to every possible catastrophe that could befall him climb up the column of my spine and rip at my flesh to embed in my mind. I yearn for the ability to dig my fingers in and pry out all the monstrous torments. Feeling the dire need to throw each one to the ground like bloody leeches, so I might stomp them into nothing more than a mark of dried blood caking the underside of my boot and the fibers of the carpet.
I should have refused to let him leave this room.
Tension buzzes through the rest of my Guards as I force my power to remain connected to them at least, feeling as if they can send a static electrical charge from their bodies.
I should have agreed to let Fray fly me to the unknown Dragon den. Then maybe Varic would have stayed. Then maybe he would have been safe.
Cirrin’s hand mimics the motion of a metronome, raising his watch to check the time and letting it go to settle by his side, before he repeats the motion.
Fuck. I’ve fucked everything up with my stubborn nature again.
Malin stares forward at the door while Lars presses an ear to the seam between the molding, using his ridiculous ability to listen.
