60. Rorax
Rorax was alive, and she was damned angry about it.
Her whole body shuddered in pain as shivers wracked through her. Again. Nausea rolled in her stomach, even though she had already emptied it into a chamber pot by her bed at least six times.
She’d successfully gotten the book and even helped save the little girl, but by the time they came out on the other side, apparently, she’d been dead. Or, more accurately, she had stopped breathing. There were only two healers and a Life Healer stationed in Karduru and between the three of them, they had somehow brought her back.
Rorax shivered again and had to fight a roll of nausea the pain brought with it.
Ayres had been roaring as soon as they touched the ground for a healer to bring her back to her body. It would have been very thoughtful of Ayres if it hadn’t left her half alive and in constant agony when she could have been peacefully dead. She had to grudgingly admit that eventually she would be thankful, but right now she wanted to kill him for it. She had never felt so awful in her life.
A soldier appeared above her, holding out a small bowl of soup.
“I already told you.” She snarled up at him, ignoring the soup. “Bring me the Lieutenant.”
The soldier ignored her snarl, since it was nothing more than an angry, raspy whisper, and placed the soup next to her bed. “Can I get you some fresh water?” he asked. Together they eyed an untouched cup of water already next to her bed.
“No. You can bring me the Lieutenant’s head,” she snapped, wincing as she felt the stitches down her side pull painfully, and her stomach roiling in complaint.
The soldier snorted and shook his head. He tipped the cup into her mouth, forcing her to drink. “No can do. The Lieutenant is out cold, too. Can’t strike a man when he’s down, but maybe when he wakes up.” The soldier winked down at her and set the cup on the table next to the other. She promised herself she would punch the soldier into next week when she got the strength to stand up.
The soldier”s eyes grew warm. “You saved her, you know. The kid.”
A growl escaped her, and she slowly sat up in bed, her head spinning. She poked the soldier in the chest. “I shouldn’t have saved either one of them. Ayres or the girl. I could have died.” And she would have sacrificed her brother to another lifetime of torment and captivity. If she died, Darras would have no hope of ever being free.
Shame and regret seeped through her. She thought for a moment about walking over to Ayres herself and slitting his throat, but she was already woozy just from sitting and her stitches probably wouldn’t hold. She would most likely bleed out before she even got there.
Accepting her only plan of action, she collapsed back into her bed. Her head was spinning so much she knew she wouldn’t make it back to the chamber pot if she threw up again.
The soldier stayed for a moment, mumbling something unintelligible, before walking away and leaving Rorax to slide comfortably back into unconsciousness.
When Rorax woke up the next time she felt much better. Her head was clearer. Her chest and stomach still ached where the three arrows had struck her, and her thigh still burned, but she no longer felt nausea climbing up her throat relentlessly.
She tucked her fingers under her shirt hem and slid her hand up and across her torso to find where her stitches had been on her stomach and the upper left side ribs. She found only smooth, unblemished skin.
“You’re flashing me.”
Her head jerked up and around so fast, her neck twinged. Ayres smirked from where he sat lounging in a wooden chair in the corner of the room.
She felt bad for the poor chair legs as she narrowed her eyes at his hulking frame.
In Rorax’s exploration of her wounds, her shirt had ridden up to reveal the undersides of her breasts. She didn’t bother to cover them as she glowered at him.
Ayres was in a sleeveless shirt he must have been wearing under his armor, and she could see every single muscle in his strong arms as they draped over the back of the chair.
“I am going to kill you,” Rorax threatened.
His smirk grew into a grin, and she ignored the way it made her stomach a degree or two warmer.
“I heard from one of the soldiers that when you woke up the first time you kept saying the only thing that could help you heal from your wounds was my severed head as a decoration on your bedside table.”
Rorax finally tugged her shirt down and narrowed her eyes to him. “It’s still the only thing that will help.”
Ayres tipped his head back and barked out a laugh, making the thin gold chain around his tattooed neck glint in the candlelight. Rorax hungrily eyed his fully exposed neck and the trapezius muscles framing it. Gods, even his throat made her hot. He tipped his smiling face down and it was so gorgeous it made her feel violent. What was happening here? Why wasn’t he glaring and scowling at her? He seemed more relaxed than he’d ever been before. The angry, mistrustful glint in his eyes had softened, just a bit, and the soft feeling in Rorax’s chest told her she liked this new development. She liked it a lot.
She turned her head so she wouldn”t have to look at him. “Go bother someone else. I’m trying to recover.”
She could almost hear his eye roll as he continued to grin at her. “No,” he said simply. “Come on, Little Crow. We have things to do today.”
Rorax groaned. Her body ached, and as she tried to reach for magick to pull for her knife, she didn’t have any. “I need more sleep.”
“Nope,” She heard the chair groan in relief as he stood up and took a few steps toward her bed. He tapped her calf with the back of his hand. “The Guardian has summoned us to the castle. We need to be there in six days.”
She grudgingly opened one eye and peeked it up at him. “Why?”
“Your next trial, Rorax.”
She jerked her head around and looked at him with wide eyes. “What?”
The corner of his lips turned up, and his charcoal eyes were surprisingly warm as he stared down at her. “We’ve been at camp for a week.”
Rorax blinked up at him.
A whole week spent asleep. She still felt like freshly chewed meat, she barely had enough strength to summon her knife sitting by her bed, and yet she was expected to participate in a trial? Anxiety pooled in her stomach, and she swallowed, her throat tight. She knew the risks when she’d offered to help Ayres, but to be so unprepared for the next trial left her unsettled.
Ayres sat down on the edge of her bed, but she was so distracted she didn”t even think about kicking him off.
“Hey,” he murmured, his voice lower and softer than she’d ever heard it. She eyed him warily. “You saved my life.”
Rorax opened her mouth to growl at him, but he cut her off. “You saved my life, and because of that I won’t let you compete alone and without any help. I’ll call for the House of Death’s top healer to come give you an overhaul, make sure everything is in the best shape it can be.”
“Are . . .” she croaked. “Are you sure?”
Ayres’s lips twitched. “Don’t look so surprised. You are my Contestar. It’s my job to help you.”
She closed her mouth and narrowed her eyes.
Ayres hit her leg with his elbow. “Alright, Little Slug. Go take a shower. I could smell you from two rooms over.”
“Little Slug?” Rorax grumbled. “I like Little Crow more.”
He moved to stand up, but she reached out and gripped his arm.
“What happened . . . to the little girl?” Rorax’s heart gave an uneven thump.
Ayres smiled at her again with that unfamiliar warmth. “She’s fine. Her parents are from here, Karduru. They have been reunited.”
Rorax let out the breath she’d been holding and sighed quietly in relief. “I expect answers on the ride home about what happened. There is no way I could have survived if we had traveled by ordinary means. If you have enough power to transfer, why didn’t we just start there?”
Ayres looked down at the hand on his arm. “My magick . . . the more I feed it the harder it is to control. It’s addicting. And I . . . I’d not want you to know. I did not trust you with the knowledge of just how much magick I hold.”
“Why?” Rorax eyed him. “Are you the Death Harbinger?”
Ayres rolled his eyes and clucked his tongue impatiently. “The Death Harbinger is a myth, but if it was real, you would need to be part of the ruling family for Marras to give you the gift.”
Rorax scoffed and released her grip on his arm to lay back against her pillows. He might not be the Harbinger, but her instincts told her he had even more magick than he’d shown her. “It’s a gods-damned miracle I haven’t slaughtered you in your sleep yet.”
The corner of Ayres’s mouth pushed up. “It’s not too late.”