“Why? What’s happening?” Keely’s sleepy voice sounded confused.
Another low groan permeated the camp.
“What’s that noise?” Alanna demanded, truly terrified that someone was being hurt.
Keely sat up beside her. “That’s Val.”
“What do you mean, that’s Val?”
“He does it every night. It’s why Rafe shares a tent with him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, her voice thick with outrage.
“It wasn’t my place.”
“It wasn’t your place!” she repeated, horrified. “I needed to know!”
“Why?” Keely demanded, half awake and suddenly annoyed. “Why not leave the man some dignity? After all, you made him stand outside your door and listen to your pain for months.”
Bard.
It was as if she’d tripped and fallen into a drift of dirty snow, the same freezing slide of bitter cold down the back of her neck.
It was exactly what she had done. It had seemed to make sense at the time. Now it just made her want to vomit.
“What did I do?” Her voice was a broken whisper as she flung off her bedding and pulled on her boots.
Keely sighed. “You can’t do anything now. The man was tortured for days. Leave him with Rafe; he’ll get him settled again.”
“No. It’s my fault that he was tortured, Keely. I can do something about it. And I will.”
She probably looked ridiculous in only Tor’s shirt and her lace-up boots, hair loose and wild, but she didn’t care. She threw a blanket over her shoulders and strode out of the tent, ignoring Keely’s half-amused, half-horrified gasp behind her.
She ran down to the tent that Val shared with Rafe, pulled open the front flap, and let herself inside.
Someone had left a lamp on, and the soft yellow glow showed Rafe rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he sat beside Val, one hand resting softly on Val’s shoulder just behind his furled wing. A thick blanket was pulled up over Val’s chest, but the harsh frown on his face was clearly visible, even in his sleep, as he let out another long, rough moan.
She hadn’t thought about what she was going to do. Or say. And she found herself standing, half-dressed, suddenly wishing that she didn’t look like such an idiot.
But Rafe simply gave her a gentle smile, his eyes soft and kind. “I’m glad you came.”
She blinked, surprised. “Are you?”
Rafe dipped his head sadly. “He calls for you.”
Bard. Her throat closed and she fought back the desire to cry. “What should I do?”
“You could let him know that you’re here.”
She pulled off her boots, knelt down next to Rafe, and took Val’s big, calloused hand into hers. “Hi, Val.”
His body shuddered, his wings twitching behind him, but he didn’t wake.
She ran her fingers over that dark ridge between his eyebrows, and then, unable to think of a better idea, started to sing. It was just a child’s lullaby that her nurse had sung to her many years before—the same one that Keely had been singing in their tent earlier—but, as the words wrapped around them in the gentle warmth of the tent, she was sure she saw a slight softening in Val’s stiff body.
He mumbled something, and she pressed herself closer, still singing, and he let out a long, slow sigh.
“Do you want me to stay?” Rafe’s words startled her; she’d almost forgotten that he was there.
