6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Kay
T he rebel captain looks so peaceful in her rest. Wayward strands of her golden hair escape her braid to create a halo, making her look like one of the saints depicted in the stained-glass window of a cathedral.
A saint wearing furs and sleeping on a straw cot, that is. I’m not sure if this one is her cot or not, but it was the first empty one I found for her after she passed out in my arms mid-twirl.
I can only hope she doesn’t apply her drinking-equals-kissing philosophy to sharing others’ cots.
The memory of how she introduced that philosophy has my left hand tingling where she pressed her lips to it— repeatedly. I try to wipe my knuckles off on my tunic, but the ghost sensation persists. How long will it haunt me?
Mayhap this is what my last bunkmate meant when he teased me about my abstinence potentially leading to distraction instead of building discipline like I intended. He kissed girls all the time for no reason and likely would think nothing of that interaction.
Gerta was supposed to be a man. All the reports indicated she was. Apparently, the soldiers who were robbed had the same mindset as those who once misidentified the Holy Empress as the Bandit King.
Whether it was foolish pride or just plain idiocy, it doesn’t matter. Failure is not an option, and such things are far from the most relevant concept for me to consider tonight, so I push it from my mind. Then I turn to scan my surroundings.
The cot I’m standing beside is one of five in this cavern that are far enough from the entrance of the cave that I can only just see the moonlight. The cavern is also deep and has a strange warmth to it even though the fire is outside. Mayhap there is some kind of hot spring flowing beneath us.
We’re not alone in this cavern. The largest man in the company is passed out on another cot. The elfling didn’t even make it to a cot and collapsed onto several of the furs that decorate the stone ground.
The remaining male lies near the mouth of the cave. He was shouting something unintelligible earlier but has since gone silent. Well, in that way at least. He has been making the sound of wood being sawed since he joined his companions in slumber.
As for the werwolfe, she ran off shortly before Gerta passed out. There was a strange gleam in the woman’s eyes, and I can only hope that whatever drive lured her away keeps her far from the cave.
My gaze falls back on their sleeping leader. I wonder how she came to take charge. All these rebels seem roughly the same age, though the elfling is possibly far older due to how little time affects them. If they hadn’t chosen to join the wrong cause, they could have been part of my graduating class for officers.
Yet here we are, so similar in youth and zeal, but separated by geography and ideals. But even the geography didn’t use to be so different. There was once a time I belonged to this tundra until it rejected me.
I really ought to stop stalling and just wake Gerta. What is coming cannot be avoided for a moment later.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, I gently shake it.
Her brown eyes open, and she sits up suddenly, a knife already in her hand .
“All is well,” I whisper, hoping she recognizes me enough to not plunge the blade into me. “I’m sorry to wake you.”
Gerta sheathes her knife into her belt. “Kay?”
“I wouldn’t have bothered you if it weren’t so desperate,” I add, keeping my voice low enough that I don’t have to disturb anyone else from their sleep. “But I fear the ale has gone right through me, and I need to relieve myself.”
For a long moment, Gerta stares at me sleepily before she glances away as she realizes what I’m saying. “H-how did we even get in here?”
“I carried you in, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate me carrying you back out .”
“No, I suppose I wouldn’t have liked that very much. Let me see if one of the fellows can assist with this little issue . . .”
I remain silent as she glances around, realizing that her friends are all drunker than she is.
I’m not, though. The Healer Bloodline Magic I was born with— diluted as it has become after generations of marriage to those with no Bloodline Magic— ensures that. Though I can no longer heal others like my ancestors once did, I am invulnerable to alcohol, enjoy greater resistance to cold, and heal at higher speeds than mortals without the same Bloodline Magic. Even my strength replenishes more quickly.
Gerta doesn’t know any of that, though, as she sighs. “I suppose this chain is long enough that I could give you some privacy— if you really need to do this.”
“Painfully so.”
“Come on.” Gerta slides off the cot, pointedly not looking at me. Her shoulders are bunched together like I have embarrassed her.
I quickly gather the chain and follow her, doing my best not to let it rattle too much .
We move through a cavern with a table set up in one corner and what appears to be a straw man in the other. A corridor leads from this cavern to another one that looks like it is used as a storeroom.
Then we pass through the mouth of the cave that is bare except for the gray furs strung over the entrance and pushed slightly to the side. Oh, and the man passed out on the ground, snoring away.
We make it past him without waking him. Then Gerta leads me around the dying fire and toward the pine forest growing between the mountain and the main road. Moonlight and the northern lights guide our steps.
“The latrines are just over here,” she whispers, even though we are out of earshot of her companions now.
Then again, mayhap we are not. The werwolfe is still out here somewhere, after all. Maybe she prefers to sleep closer to the latrines for convenience.
Gerta comes to a halt in front of a wooden plank as tall as I am that is stretched between two pine trees. “Here they are. You can, erm , help yourself.”
“Thank you so much,” I gasp, pulling her suddenly into my arms for a grateful embrace.
She stiffens in surprise, and I pull away before I can confuse her further with my jubilation.
“I won’t be long,” I add, ducking behind the wall and seeing at least four flat stones lain over what must be the latrine holes. “At least, I hope not.”
Gerta makes a strangled noise. I sense that she is regretting the romantic undertones of her gestures earlier.
She’s going to regret them a lot more before the night is out, I’m afraid.
Sighing, I grasp my belt and prepare myself for what I must do.