72. Rorax
The sound of pelting rain drops against the glass windowpane woke Rorax. She forced her eyes open and noticed it was almost light outside. Rorax looked around her room. Her brain felt fuzzy and the sheets in the bed were damp and sweaty.
She was in a room, but she wasn”t in her room.
The next trial would take place north of the Northern Castle, in the Cracked Sea.
It was a twelve-hour dragon ride to the Cracked Sea from the Northern Castle, so they were staying at the largest fortress on Jerickson’s Road for a week to make sure enough of the Guardians court, including healers, emissaries, and soldiers, could be brought to the fortress.
It had been their first night there and they had celebrated hard.
Fuck.
Rorax was so late. Cannon and Ayres were going to scalp her. She stumbled out of the small feather bed, groaning. Her head throbbed and the floor seemed to rush at her even as she tried to steady herself.
What had she been drinking last night?
The castle here was small but had battlements large enough to accommodate the Guardian’s court.
The keepers of this castle had thrown a small party to celebrate the arrival of the Contestars, and the party had eventually devolved into a late-night poker session in the Great Hall with herself, the prince, Jia, Milla, and Kaiya. Elios and Allurah had even made an appearance.
Cannon shook his head at them and went off to bed. Ayres, however, had taken it upon himself to come into the hall to tell Rorax that if she was late for her training session in the morning, she would pay.
Rorax groaned. Whatever punishment Ayres and Cannon would give her would surely make her sore, and the next trial was tomorrow.
Her head throbbed and she rubbed at her temples. The Death Prince had made her try a bit of his special moonshine he had apparently been brewing himself, his golden eyes glinting with pride. She couldn’t remember much more after that. Maybe that was why she felt so shitty this morning.
Rorax tried to pull on her favorite fighting bra, but the bindings . . . her fingers . . . they shook too much to pull them taut around herself. She shoved the bindings back into the small bag she had packed, and instead pulled out the easiest bra to put on, nothing more than a bralette. At least she would have a little support there.
She pulled on her fighting leathers, having to pull extra tight around her chest, and hauled up her boots. Her fingers were shaking so much she ended up just tucking the laces in the sides.
She could stop and see a healer, but if she got caught trying to soothe a hangover Ayres would never let her forget it, and her pride wouldn’t either. Today would be a good lesson on how to fight even when you made terrible decisions the night before. She didn’t remember drinking enough to feel this shitty, but her memory of last night was vague at best.
Rorax opted to leave her hair knives behind and instead swept her hair in a ponytail, forgoing her usual war braids as she grabbed her sword and left the room.
As soon as she stepped outside, she gulped in the fresh air, but it didn’t really help. The rain was falling in sheets now, making it even darker than it normally was at this hour, but she could still make out Ayres, Cannon, and surprisingly, Lamonte standing at the end of the bailey already sparring. A few other soldiers were out exercising as well.
Rorax steeled her spine stalked up to them.
Lamonte spotted her first and jerked his chin up at her. “Good mornin’, sunshine. They were takin’ bets on if you’d make it out this fine day,” he said, all cheer and smiles.
Her stomach rolled, letting her know that it in fact did not want to be out this early. She gritted her teeth. “Morning.”
Ayres put his hands on his hips. “You got that deep in your cups two nights before a trial?”
“It’s tomorrow; I thought I would have time to work through it,” she grumbled, swallowing down bile. “The prince had me try his moonshine.”
Cannon clicked his tongue and signed, You should know better than to drink anything the Prince makes himself.
She couldn’t argue with that, so she didn’t.
Cannon sighed and signed again, I’m glad you made it. We will start slow—a one-on-one with Ayres, then we’ll get some of Lamonte’s men to reenact a siege scene with you.
Rorax nodded and deposited her cloak next to the wall, pulling her blade out.
When she turned to face Ayres, his eyes went a little wide as he took her in. “What’re you wearing?”
Rorax looked down at her fighting leathers, then back up at him, with a tired grin on her face. She hadn’t been able to bind her breasts down this morning like she usually did, and he had noticed.
His eyes lingered hungrily on her chest before looking up to meet her gaze. She could have sworn he was blushing, but she couldn’t tell for sure through the rain and before she could make a snarky remark, Ayres attacked.
They weren’t even at it for five minutes before he knocked her on her ass.
Rorax got back up slowly, rubbing her backside with her palm as Ayres snarled at her again. “Pathetic, Rorax. You let a night of drinking render you utterly useless.”
She snarled back at him, but her heart wasn’t in it. She felt so hot, like her insides were burning up, and she desperately wanted to throw up. But she wouldn’t do it in front of Ayres.
K??n save her, what was in that moonshine?
They began again. It took Ayres even less time to deposit Rorax back onto the ground.
Rorax lay there for a moment, feeling the blessedly cold cobblestones and rainwater beneath her cheek.
She slowly raised her head to find Kaiya who had appeared across the courtyard, watching Cannon’s hands as she wrapped her white braids into a ponytail at the top of her head. Whatever Cannon signed to her made her frown. Rorax thought Kaiya had likely had just as much to drink as Rorax, but she didn’t look like she was on the verge of death.
“Get up,” Ayres snarled from above Rorax.
She got herself up slowly on trembling arms.
As they began again, Rorax lasted for another few minutes before Cannon came over, called time, and started signing at Ayres to direct Lamonte’s men.
Rorax ignored them and walked to the gate, stepping outside over the bridge so she could feel the breeze on her skin. The sky was ominously gray and cloudy, but she was thankful for the cold wind as it whipped her hair around her face. She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the rain, sucking in deep breaths while she untied the top of her leathers so she could expose her neck to the rain. She was so hot, so hot.
“Heard you were a little hungover from last night,” Kaiya mocked, stepping closer to her.
Rorax peeled one eye open and scowled at Kaiya from the corner of her eye.
Kaiya laughed and shoved her with her elbow. It was just a little, playful shove, mild compared to what the tall woman normally dished out, but the force of it sent Rorax reeling.
She stumbled over her own feet, tripped, then toppled over the side of the bridge and into the moat surrounding the small fortress. Her face smacked the water first, but she didn’t care. Didn’t care about the blood she could taste in the back of her throat from her nose, or the yells she heard from above her. She didn’t care about any of it.
The minute her skin hit the water, she felt instant relief. She sighed, releasing little air bubbles out of her mouth.
The water felt phenomenal against her skin. Her whole body relaxed, and for the first time today she felt like she wasn’t burning up from the inside out.
Even as her lungs started to protest and burn from the lack of oxygen, she refused to surface, refusing to move her limbs away from the liquid cold.
Just a little bit longer, she pleaded with her lungs.
Rorax jerked as something big hit the water next to her. A hand grabbed the belt at the back of her leathers, and she started to struggle.
No, not yet, just a little longer, please!
She felt herself being thrown up and out of the water, onto the bank of the moat. She spluttered and coughed up water, dragging air back into her lungs.
“Rorax, what the fuck is going on?”
She didn’t answer for a few seconds, trying to make sense of the question. “Nothing. I just . . . I just need to cool down. And . . . and then I’ll… I’ll get up to spar.”
“Kaiya! Go get a healer. Something’s wrong.”
Rorax pressed her cheek against the grass, feeling the cool blades and the rain hitting the side of her cheek, but it wasn’t enough. She was still too hot. She wanted to feel that cool rain kiss her everywhere.
With hands she could barely feel, she started stripping. She tore at the bindings and ties that held her in her leathers, and she desperately tried to peel them away from her skin so she could feel the rain.
She opened her eyes, to see Ayres’s face above hers. “Water, let me get back into the water,” she rasped.
Ayres gritted his jaw as he gripped the leather armor she’d just shed in a tight fist. “No, no more water for now. We’ll go take an ice bath in your room.” He jerked his head up and handed her clothes to someone she couldn’t see as she turned her head to eye the moat forlornly.
“Take her armor and go get her another gods’ damned shirt,” Ayres commanded. “Then meet us in my room.”
A shiver racked down her spine and every muscle in her ached, even as it felt like her skin was on fire.
A cool hand touched her forehead, and she closed her eyes, leaning into it and groaning.
“Rorax,” Ayres hissed, and even with her eyes closed she could tell he was furious. “You’re burning up.”
She felt a palm slide under her shoulders and another tuck under her knees to lift her up. Her head rolled around on the back of his arm making nausea crawl up her throat, so she used her arms to clutch around his neck. He jerked her up close to his chest. He must have taken off his shirt when he dove in after her.
She liked the warmth coming off him and burrowed deeper into his arms. Rorax worried for a moment he would tell her to let go, but instead he squeezed her tighter, and she relaxed.
She rested her chin on his pectoral muscle. He had the nicest pectoral muscles she had ever seen on a man before, and the thick sinew running on the side of his neck was ridiculously attractive.
His chest rumbled from underneath her breasts. “Thank you.”
You’re welcome, she thought, her eyes tracking up the golden chain that always rested against his tanned skin.
Without thinking she pulled herself up, slowly, opened her mouth and let the tip of her tongue trace over the skin and his tattoos on his chest until she reached his collar bones where she bit the crook of his neck softly.
She pressed the flat parts of her teeth against the flesh and gently bit down there, tasting his flesh for a second before releasing him. The hands around her tightened factionally.
It wasn’t hard enough to mark, just enough to claim. She sighed, resting her cheek on his chest. Ayres had the best tattoos of any man she had ever seen.
He grunted again.
He climbed the stairs and when he reached the top, she moved her face into the crook of his neck, her nose and lips pressing into his warm skin.
She stayed that way until he deposited her onto a soft bed. Her eyes flew open, taking in the white sheets.
White was a dangerous color for a sick woman.
“If you puke in this bed, Rorax, I’ll throw you into the chicken coop and make you sleep there for a week.”
A faint smile crossed over her lips. He wouldn’t do that to her.
Ayres grunted again, and she fell unconscious.