Chapter 9
Casyl was brought into his tent on a stretcher. He’d been unconscious when they carried him in and placed him on the bed behind a partition at the back of the tent.
“He’ll be fine,” Ruven had told her. “He just needs to rest. He’s barely slept in days.” His attention returned to Amelia. “I’ve heard you’re quite the hero.”
Amelia flinched. She’d killed someone. The words repeated in her mind. She’d killed a man. Ruven had acted as if that was something to be proud of.
“I can’t believe I did that.”
“Look at me,” Ruven ordered.
Her eyes slowly met his.
“You did what you needed to do.”
“I felt the blade hitting bone. It shouldn’t be that easy to end a life.”
Bones. She’d excavated countless skeletal remains over the years, but she had only ever known death by what it left behind.
“It’s not that easy. That’s why you feel like this.”
“I killed the Mind Warper,” she said aloud, slowly.
“Well, it was about time that you repaid the favour,” Casyl said, sitting up in his bed.
He was shirtless, with a bandage wrapped around his waist. A tattoo curled over his shoulders and down his torso, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers.
Heat rose to her cheeks.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“I’ve been better,” he said. “I’ll be fine by tomorrow. We heal quickly,” he added, noticing her confused look.
She picked at the blood dried around and beneath her nails. Her hands were raw from scrubbing. No matter how thoroughly she cleaned herself, she continued to find traces of his blood. It haunted her.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
She opened her mouth to say she was fine, but she couldn’t find it within herself to lie.
“Like I don’t know who I am anymore.”
He nodded slowly, his expression softening.
A soldier lifted the tent flap and entered. He was wet and covered in mud.
It had rained not long after they’d left the enemy camp, dousing the tent fires, and it hadn’t stopped since. Ruven had told her that the enemy camp would no doubt consider it an act of the gods.
“Report,” Casyl said to the soldier.
“Yes, sir. There’s no further movement in the enemy camp. They’re not making any plans to mount an offensive. The fires have been put out, but they’ve taken many casualties. Their numbers have dwindled.” The soldier dipped his head and backed out of the tent.
“What now?” Amelia asked.
“Nothing for now. We’ll monitor them,” Casyl said.
“Shouldn’t we mount an attack and finish them now?” Ruven asked.
“No.” Casyl winced as he tried to get comfortable. “I have no intention of allowing the men to become easy targets stuck in that mud. We have the advantage. Let’s keep it that way.”
Ruven stood up to leave. “I’m going to check on Tharos.”
“I’ll come with you,” Amelia said, earning a raised eyebrow from both of them.
They left the tent together and headed towards another large tent. He wasn’t in the medical shelter, as she’d expected, but in the quarters he shared with Ruven.
Tharos sat in a chair, inspecting a map. He rose as they entered, pausing when he saw Amelia.
“You’ve got a visitor,” Ruven said.
“Amelia.” Tharos inclined his head.
“I just wanted to see how you were,” she said.
“I wasn’t badly injured. Not physically, anyway.” He inclined his head. “Thanks to you.”
She raised her brows. “You’re welcome.”
“Maybe I should give you two some privacy,” Ruven teased.
They both glared at him.
“Is Casyl ordering an offensive?” Tharos asked.
“No, we’re waiting it out.”
He frowned at that. “But now would be the perfect time to strike. We could wipe them out and end this. I’ve seen their camp. Their numbers were already dwindling.”
Ruven just shrugged. “Maybe you should discuss this with him yourself.”
The three of them returned to Casyl’s tent. Ruven supported Tharos whilst Amelia followed.
“Why aren’t we calling an offensive?” Tharos questioned Casyl as soon as they entered.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Casyl said. “Look at us. Do you really think we’re in any position to lead an army?”
Tharos grunted and collapsed onto a nearby stool at the table.
“We need at least one day to recover,” Casyl said.
They had barely settled when Danae pushed through the tent flap carrying a large pot and a stack of bowls.
She passed the bowls to Amelia. “Here, set these down.”
Ruven moved the map that occupied the table, sliding the figures to one side to make room as she handed them out and they all took a seat.
Danae took a ladle and filled each bowl with a strange-looking broth. “It looks like swamp water, but it tastes like the gods made it.”
She pushed the bread towards Amelia.
“Thank you.”
“I hope Tharos found the manners to thank you,” Casyl said with a pointed stare at Tharos.
“In a manner of speaking,” she replied.
Tharos narrowed his eyes at Casyl. “Thank you, Amelia, for saving my fragile fae life.”
Ruven rolled his eyes. “And she did it all without using any of the training we’ve spent weeks teaching her.”
“She did it with her eyes closed!” Danae added.
“Yes, blindly running into danger.” Ruven laughed.
“It worked,” Casyl said.
“Ah yes, she saved your fragile life too,” Ruven mocked his commander.
Amelia flinched, expecting anger, but looked up to see Casyl smiling. Around these three, the commander’s sharp edges seemed to soften.
“You could have left me there,” Tharos said. His tone had lost its earlier mockery.
“Casyl would never have allowed that,” Amelia replied.
“I meant you. You didn’t have to help.”
She looked down at her bowl. “You would have come for me.”
A silence settled over the table.
“Unfortunately,” Danae said, pushing the bread closer to Amelia, “we probably would.”
“On orders,” Tharos muttered.
Casyl raised his eyebrows. “Speak for yourself. I’ve rescued her enough times.”
Casyl was still smiling.
Five bowls crowded the table among the maps and bloodied bandages. No one had questioned whether Amelia should have one.
*
When the others had left, Casyl stood and rummaged around the tent. Once he’d found what he was after, he eased himself into a chair with his legs up, nursing a bottle of the golden liquor.
“Pain relief.” He saluted her with the bottle. “Grab a mug,” he ordered. A drink sounded like a good idea right now. She needed to forget.
A cot had been made up near his bed.
“That’s mine. You can take the bed,” he said.
She approached and handed him both mugs. He poured hers full to the brim and ignored the other, preferring to drink from the bottle instead.
She sat down in the chair opposite him. They hadn’t been alone like this since the night at the Viewpoint.
“What is this war really about?” she asked.
He frowned at the question. “This is my father’s war.”
“But why do they want me?”
He sighed. “You’re a threat to this world, and they’d rather extinguish that than see what you can do.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. She paced around the tent, drink in hand. “I’m a threat because I can block powers?”
“That’s one reason.”
“The Mind Warper said that you’d destroy everything.”
He sat quietly, taking a swig from the bottle.
“It’s true, isn’t it? What are you going to do? Why have you trained me?” she asked. “Did you know you’d need me?”
He stood slowly and walked over to face her.
Her nails bit into her palms.
“I didn’t need you. I don’t need you,” he growled.
“I’d say otherwise.” She glanced pointedly at his wound.
Silence stretched between them. His breath came as a wave of heat against her cool skin. His attention dropped to her mouth, and she leaned towards him.
His forceful kiss took her by surprise, as did the ferocity with which she returned it.
She pulled away for a moment. What was she doing?
Her mind emptied of all thoughts as she threw herself back into his embrace, his hands sliding around her waist.
He lifted her onto the table, wincing a little from his wound. His mouth moved down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin.
The heat between her thighs increased. She drew him closer, wrapping her legs around him.
He was dangerous, like the unstable walls of a ruin she should have known better than to enter.
A soldier walked into the tent.
“Out!” Casyl yelled.
This was wrong. She drew back, folding her arms across herself. He turned away.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said with his back to her. He pulled on a shirt and left the tent.
*
Zandhro’s face plagued her dreams. The metallic taste of his blood lingered in her memory, turning her stomach.
Casyl hadn’t returned to the tent, unless he had done so without waking her. She’d taken the cot, refusing to sleep in his bed. There was nowhere else to go.
After pulling on her boots, she ran her fingers through her hair and peered through the tent opening.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Ruven said when he saw her. He stood talking to Danae and some other soldiers.
“What time is it?” she asked, squinting in the sunlight.
“Ah, you’ve no head for drink, have you?” He laughed. “It stopped raining!”
In the distance, she saw Casyl emerge from the tent Ruven shared with Tharos. Tharos trailed behind.
“You should go get some breakfast. Danae, will you show her where?” he said.
“Come on,” Danae said. “You’ve yet to try the wholesome battle ration breakfast.” She laughed as she led her through the tents.
Casyl, Ruven, Tharos, and some other warriors filtered into Casyl’s tent.
They must have Battle Plan.
Danae showed her the food tent and then disappeared.
Amelia ate her stale bread and honey water, wandering around the camp.
The moans of injured men drifted from the medical tent. Her feet carried her until she was in front of another large tent. The flap was closed. She peered in.
Men were lying chained to metal posts, wounded and blood-soaked. Their stench lingered in the air. Were they still alive? They wore the same armour she’d seen in the enemy camp.
The one closest to the door opened his eyes. He slouched against the metal post.
“You’re the girl they’re after,” he said.
There was no one about, and the others were still unconscious.
“Yes,” she said.