* * *
I screw my eyes shut and halt when we reach the bottom of the stairwell.
I need to catch my breath and remember I am not there any longer.
I’m here. It’s been six years. She needs me.
Snap the fuck out of it, Euclid.
I shake my head, desperate to eradicate my old commander’s voice, disrespecting me with the use of my inherited name—a tactic used to get under our skin, with the painful reminder of who you come from. Of exactly who made you the shaking, compliant being you are—defying an Imperial decree, requiring us to refer to one another by rank and given name, not the one passed down through generations, tracking bloodlines that have nothing to do with our power. Or at least, none that we have found so far. They separate us so there is no confusion, since Emperor Aldritch implemented the registry to ensure every living being in the Ampara Deicra Empire has a unique given name.
“General Varic,” Lars says, placing a hand gently over my shoulder.
“Mm?” I manage, looking into his blue eyes but not really seeing.
“Should I take her, or will you be able to make it up the stairs?”
I shake my head. “I have her.”
“Okay, you just looked a little?—”
“I said, I have her.”
Lars holds his hands out in front of his chest before falling in on one side of me, while Malin takes the other.
“The stairwell and hall are clear,” Malin reports, apparently using his heightened sensitivity to scan that far away—an ability I can scarcely imagine, since mine is to sense energy, but differently—far less exhausting than recognizing the proximity of every living being within a certain radius.
“Her heart rate has calmed from being in your arms,” Cirrin says, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently, either his way of alerting me, thanking me, or both.
I readjust my hold on her as we steadily climb the wide, gray stairwell with Cirrin and Fray trailing behind us.
Tasch stirs once we reach the midpoint and I pause, tilting my chin down with the urge to press a kiss to the top of her head in comfort. The feeling is so strong, I clench my jaw, requiring the pressure to keep from publicly displaying such an intimate gesture, wishing it were safe to provide her with all the care she deserves—to be able to rub her back or dry her tears—to tell her I will be right here, when that is not a promise I can make.
Though it may become one I make before her, the Dragons, and all of Ampara Deicra, with the way Emperor Aldritch looked at me the moment he learned her force Guard was lost to the attack.
Since a Guardian’s vow can be broken only by death, I never hoped for Hendry’s demise in order to be appointed to his role. And no matter how much I have dreamed of there being any other way I could have led mei waella’s detail—no matter how torturous it has been to watch those chosen, before I was of age and the strength of my powers known, be the ones to protect her in my stead—it is beyond tragic that because of Hendry’s death, I will now be afforded the opportunity to keep her safer than I can at the border.
Tasch whimpers while furrowing her brow, and I can’t help but think her distress must be from mourning him. Grieving the loss of one she has known most of her life, and must have expected to protect her far past this evening.
Yet even in witnessing this, and regardless of how selfish, I will emphatically accept the appointment to be her Lead Guard. Her safety has been my priority ever since the day she first stormed into that Godsdamned tent, when all I wanted was to no longer exist.
A deep pang of guilt strikes my gut with the thought of abandoning my unit. Each soldier and Sergeant who look to me for the truth when we are all well aware of the corruption contained within the missives sent from the Palace, only telling us what they want us to know, not what is necessary to keep us safe. Abundantly aware that our lives are not their priority. Not if a few casualties might gain His Majesty more land and resources.
The two Imperial Guards outside Tasch’s bedchamber glance from her sleeping form to my eyes, before turning to share some silent form of communication. Returning their attention to Tasch, they each bow before prying open the doors to her bedchamber.
My arms flex tighter around her as I pause before entering, staring down at the line in the marble which I am meant to carry her across, a physical marker of how close we have come to where I will be expected to lay her down. To release her. To let her go.
But I’m the strongest force sorcerer there is. They cannot make me take another step. I can blast my magic at everyone who tries to stop me as I carry her far, far away from here. Except…we have nowhere to go. A formidable line of Imperial soldiers guards the perimeter of the forest which is said to be filled with unknown creatures—a place I cannot guarantee is safer than anything we know to anticipate within these walls. And since I am not blood-bound to a Dragon, we cannot climb atop the back of one, nor do either of us know how to ride should they break the accords by offering to carry us. Ships are much too slow, and the carriages are stored in the stables on the opposite side of the mountain, accessible only by drawbridge into the Citadel?—
“Varic,” Cirrin says, his kind brown eyes settling my nerves. At least she has them—the Guards who have vowed to keep her safe, even if that term is relative.
No. It’s not enough. Not for her.
None of what I witnessed today is good enough for mei meida.
And I intend to change that.
Tears build no matter how regularly I blink them back, threatening to pour down my cheeks with every step bringing us closer to the four-post bed. Flames roaring in the fireplace cast an ominous orange glow over the black velvet curtains hanging where I am meant to place her, turning my stomach with the thought of her opening her eyes to an instant reminder of what claimed her friend’s life only moments before.
