“Salve for my leg,” I lied smoothly, gripping the jar tighter to conceal it from prying fucking eyes.
“Make sure you stay on top of that. You’ll be a good little kitty and go where we send you, and we’d hate to have to put a lame cat down.” Menace lit her dark eyes.
Of course that would be her only concern. We were all expendable, vessels to carry out their orders and nothing more. She returned her attention to the map.
The meeting finished without any concrete plans, which meant I still had time. I needed Delia’s insights. Despite trying to keep my appearance unbothered, panic wrapped my thoughtslike a python. Basemount was where The Kraanti had recently been holding up.
I’d yet to figure out what The Order had been waiting for, but I suspected for a long time it was to get their hands on that magic. The last known elemental wielders in Windguard resided within The Kraanti.
By the time I crossed the camp, the sun settled below the trees. The prisoners’ area had also fallen under my new spell. It looked exactly the same, the people unchanged from earlier, but the entire landscape fell under a dreary fog. The prisoners were empty shells of the people they once were. How had I grown to ignore it? To act as if it wasn’t absolutely appalling that they were kept in these decaying conditions?
I seldom made visits here regardless, and especially never at night. I hadn’t wanted to risk looking like I was hiding something by skulking in the shadows. But resolve bred with fury and forged new life.
Delia folded clothes near the fire. I regretted the decision I made the instant it crossed my mind, but I pushed through. I kicked the basket of folded clothes, spilling the contents onto the ground at her feet. She startled, her chains rattling as she flinched.
I bent down and picked up a shirt, waving it in her face. “Are you trying to pass dirty clothes as clean? Folding them so you think we won’t notice?” I yelled, briefly drawing attention from a few of those on patrol before they lost interest.
She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine. “I—”
I crouched, as if whispering something menacing in her personal space, baring my teeth. “They’re departing for Basemount soon.”
The fear that glazed her eyes was real, but perfectly complemented the relationship we portrayed. “Fox,” she whispered.
“They’ll be alright,” I tried to assure her, but the doubt spreading in my chest felt as sickly as the veins of The Eleven looked. My grip tightened on the jar in my hand. “Hey, has anyone in the camp taken…liberties with any of you?”
The way she stiffened made it feel as if I swallowed the fire blazing beside us. “Who.” I growled.
Her eyes targeted the southeastern posted guard.
“Shaved head?” I clarified.
She nodded. “Not me.” With a tiny gesture, she directed my attention to the beat up man I’d seen earlier in Garris’s tent.
Rage and guilt battled for first place. I’d walked right past him and ignored it. My stomach twisted over the fact that an injured person had become so commonplace that I was unfeeling at the sight. I stood, throwing the crumpled up clean shirt on the log beside her.
I scanned the camp, balling my fists and squeezing impatiently, as if so angered by Delia’s incompetence that I was itching for some way to take out my anger. When my gaze settled on a seemingly random target, I pointed my finger at him. “You.” I stalked toward him. He puffed on a homemade cigar, narrowing his eyes at me.
“What?” He blew out a puff of smoke into the cooling night air.
“Fighting ring. Half an hour.”
He grinned, his rotting teeth reflecting the state of his soul. “You’re on.”
52
Ro
I’d redressed some time ago, when I realized Dae’s version of “a few minutes” differed vastly from mine. Nearly half an hour had passed.
Braxius returned to snoozing, apparently dozing off when he heard what Dae and I started getting up to. Before the little blue reptile buried himself under the cloak again, I’d apologized profusely, horror heating my cheeks, when I realized what I put him through in the confines of this tent. But he’d said, “You humans, always so ashamed of natural things. Relieving yourselves? Shame. Naked? Shame. Natural urges? Shame. It’s a wonder you don’t burrow in the ground and hide away your entire lives.”
Interesting to learn that dragons held a sex neutral position. So unbothered. I asked that he spare me from any of his romantic dalliances. He simply curled up and ignored me, which made guilt nip at my heels because he was the only dragon I knew still existed. Sometimes I wondered if that weighed on him, but we had each other.
Dae barged into the tent, my heart stuttering at the abrupt intrusion. His speed and power were almost threatening. Within seconds, he was kissing me aggressively. Then tore away, leaving my head almost spinning. A tiny jar clinked down on the table. When he reached for the wraps he’d given me for the fight and began winding them around his own knuckles, I managed to form words again.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m fighting in the ring.”
