Chapter 50. Eloise
Eloise
My eyes flutter open on my pillow and I wince. There’s pain in my arm and the orange glow of the setting sun is making my head feel like someone punched it. I can just make out the plaid sheet on … wait, no, this isn’t my pillow.
I spring up in the narrow bed and curse, disoriented. I’m in a bedroom? No, a large square tent.
“I wouldn’t move too quickly if I were you,” a female voice says, and I whip around to find Sage sitting at a round wooden table pouring herself a drink.
Her copper armor is long gone and she’s wearing green cargo pants, a black tank top, and fingerless climbing gloves.
Her silky hair is wound into a high bun and her green eyes stare with a discerning gaze.
“We have a healer in camp,” she continues. “But she’s overworked and her magic is often drained. She mended your broken arm, and the cut on your forehead, but it’ll be sore for a few days.”
I launch to my feet and immediately regret the fast movement. My vision wavers and I have to grab the bed to keep my balance.
“Like I said, I’d stay put if I were you.” Sage sips her drink.
“Like hell I will,” I reply, instantly furious. I reach for my magic. But it sputters and slips from my grasp, weak from the healing.
I stride for the tent door, pulling it back. But what I find on the other side throws me. No guard. No weapons. Just a sea of tents like Sage’s in a clearing surrounded by trees. Not to mention she hasn’t cast a spell. She’s not attacking me. I can’t make sense of it.
“You brought me to a Lawless camp?” I demand, trying to get my bearings. I grab my left arm and wince; the pain is dulled but definitely has the feeling of a healing not quite completed.
“Actually, I brought you to my home. You’re welcome,” Sage says so confidently that she reminds me of Grayson.
“If you think I’m saying thank you, you’ve got another thing coming,” I reply.
She sighs. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never find your way back to the University. The wards are spellworked to repel and disorient. You can try if you want, but I give you two hours before you come back and tell me I’m right.”
My fists clench because as much as I want her to be wrong, I suspect she isn’t.
“Or,” she says, “you could have some bread and cheese and a glass of wine and listen to what I have to say.” She pushes a plate across the table that reminds me of the snacks I eat with my family.
I see red. “You think I’m just going to sit down with you and drink wine? Your spell sent a glass dagger into my best friend’s chest! Not to mention you broke my arm and—”
“It wasn’t my spell that made the glass explode,” she counters. “It was someone from your side who used unstable ice. And yes, I broke your arm; it was a calculated risk in getting you out of there. Just the same, I’m sorry about your friend. I never intended on anyone getting hurt.”
I stare at her, both thrown that she apologized and more frustrated than I’ve ever been.
But despite what Grayson told me, I need to hear it from Sage.
I need to be one hundred percent sure the Lawless didn’t kill my grandad.
“Charles Riley,” I say in a tight voice, watching her like a hawk for the slightest tell.
“He made weapons for the Guardians in the third tower in Maine.”
Which is why I’m not prepared when she suddenly stands, her chair tipping with the motion. “What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me,” I reply coolly.
Then suddenly she’s standing in front of me. And she’s angry. “Tell me how you know that name, Mage,” she demands, pronouncing the last word with disgust.
Now I’m both suspicious and pissed she called me a Mage, even though I’m technically training to be one. “I could ask you the same thing, Lawless,” I say, matching her challenge.
She takes a step toward me, her hands moving to her sides in a fighting stance. And I step toward her.
Which is also when the tent door flies open and Grayson Stone appears on the other side.