I just wanted to say…Tia’s voice filtered into her mind.Be careful out there.
Then came Pinaria’s tear-streaked face, followed by Arnza’s quiet, worried expression—images flitting through her mind like ghosts.
Her chest tightened, and she sat up.
“What’s wrong?” Dorias asked, trailing warm fingers over her bare hip.
“I don’t know,” she muttered, grabbing the nearest tunic and slipping it over her head. “I just… I need to see Pinaria.”
The air in the tent felt stifling, heavy with the scent of leather, sweat, and blood. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her racing thoughts, when Dorias’ arms wrapped around her waist. With effortless strength, he drew her against his chest, his warmth both grounding and unsettling. His lips caressed the curve of her neck, each kiss igniting a slow burn within her. “Come back to bed, Furia,” he murmured, voice low and coaxing. “You can see her in the morning.”
Katell stiffened, her hand freezing mid-motion as she glanced over her shoulder. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“What?”
“Furia,” she said, the name twisting in her chest.
Dorias raised a brow and leaned closer. “Isn’t that what I’ve always called you?”
Was it? Katell hesitated, her thoughts spiralling as her memories slipped through her grasp like sand through her fingers. Everything was jumbled, disconnected.
“Katell,” Dorias continued in a soothing tone, as if calming a skittish horse. “I worry about you. Laran’s Tears can muddleyour memories, and you used more than three during the battle today. Against the northerners.”
That’s right. She’d fought a giant of a commander who’d appeared from the shadows and healed just like her. He’d called her a demigoddess.
But hadn’t she also been injured?
She looked down at herself, but there were no bandages. No aches in her body, either.
Yet everything felt so odd.
She got to her feet and threw on her cloak before tugging on her boots at the entrance.
Behind her, Dorias let out a low, exasperated grumble. “Katell…”
She straightened, adjusting her cloak with sharp, deliberate movements, trying to silence the storm in her mind. “I’ll be right back. Don’t wait up for me.” She didn’t give him time to protest and slipped out of the tent, her heart pounding with a sense of urgency she couldn’t explain.
The camp was quiet, shadows cast by the dying embers of scattered fires, and the murmur of sleeping soldiers surrounded her.
When she reached the girls’ tent, she hesitated, then pushed the flap aside. The faint scent of herbs wafted out, mingling with the heavier musk of sweat and damp earth. Inside, the dim glow of a lantern illuminated the modest space.
Pinaria sat cross-legged on her sleeping mat, fingers working through her braid as she loosened it. She looked up, startled by Katell’s sudden entrance. “Kat! What’s wrong?”
“Are you all right?” Katell stepped closer, scanning her friend’s face and frame. There were no streaks of tears, no trembling hands—only the familiar sight of Pinaria winding down after a long day.
Pinaria tilted her head in confusion. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve just been chopping wood all evening.”
Katell’s frown deepened, unease prickling her senses. Arnza had taken over Pinaria’s wood-chopping duties days ago in exchange for her cooking his dinner—a trade they’d kept private, but one Katell had known about because they’d needed her approval.
Something was off.
“What about Arnza?”
Pinaria blinked. “What about him?”
Katell hesitated, doubt clawing at her resolve. Had she misremembered again? “I just thought…” She trailed off, rubbing her temples in frustration. “Never mind.”
Pinaria got to her feet, eyebrows pinched in concern. “What is it?”
