Arina
EVERYTHING HURTS.
A yell rips from me as I toss my pillow at the door when it shuts. The pillow hits with an unsatisfying thud and slides to the floor. The singular small act has drained me of strength.
I’m desperate to run to the door to see if I’m locked in, but I can’t.
I take one more sip of tea. It’s got all the right herbs in it and dulls my senses enough that I am able to sit at the edge of the bed and sift through the bundle that he tossed my way as he was leaving.
What I find inside is a little surprising. An extra set of leathers, my brush, black hair ribbons, and lip oils. Things I use every day. Things he couldn’t have retrieved without going in my house. In my room.
The item I find at the bottom of the pack is the most surprising of all. Neatly settled in my leather sheath is my dagger. There’s no sign of the violent way it had torn through Dolan’s skin. It’s cleaner than it had been before the tournament even. I tuck it under my pillow for now.
There are no windows in my room. A torch sticking out from a hole carved into the wall above my bed is the only light, and I worry it will burn out while I’m alone.
This is a nightmare. I’m a murderer. Queen Daphne is still in danger. And I have to get back to Phillipa.
I suck in a deep breath, and even that simple movement makes my ribs ache.
In the quiet, I evaluate my wounds and the amount of healing it will take to be back on my feet. If it’s left to only me, it will take days to fully recover. Healers can heal themselves, but it is a much slower process than having another healer assist, and the extent of my injuries will drain me over and over again.
I finish my tea and lie back down. The torch is still burning, and I would rather fall asleep while there’s still light.
This deal we’ve made can work in my benefit. Nobody has ever been able to find the Rhiza’s hideout. I’m inside it now, and I can either escape with no information, or gather all I can and come back with reinforcements.
I’ll show him a fucking snake.
Raiden
She certainly sleeps hard for someone paranoid enough to keep a dagger under her pillow. The dagger that I very recently discovered might be the answer to most of my problems.
I stand at the end of her bed and clear my throat, hoping not to frighten her. I’ve kept her torch burning through the night, and I think that’s helped her get some decent rest.
She stirs, not yet fully awake.
Normally, this is when Iblurback outside, but now I stay. It’s time to practice coming out of the shadows.
She sits up with a gasp, throwing her hands wildly to her side and looking around the room expectantly.
Those emerald-green eyes land on me, flashing from panic to recognition before she reaches under her pillow, only to find the dagger she’s expecting to be there is missing.
“Were you planning to stab me, you crafty little snake?” I almost laugh at the way her eyes turn to saucers. She’s not used to being caught unprepared.
“I wasn’t planning anything, but you’re a fool if you expected me to not at least try defending myself.” She pulls her sleep-mussed hair into another long braid, and my hands itch to chop it off. It takes effort, but I refrain from saying anything.
“Which is exactly why I removed the dagger. I saw the way you threw those blades. For a healer, you certainly are violent.” I find it ironic that she was born with the gift of healing, but the rage that stirs within the blood pumping through those pretty little veins makes her vicious.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she grinds out between clenched teeth.
“I know everything about you, Arina Chiron.” I move closer to the bed, but she doesn’t even flinch.
“What do you want?” she demands, eyes narrowed to slits.
I inspect my gloves, pulling a piece of dust from one of them. “I came to see if you were feeling up for a little tour.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Haven’t we gone over this? There is no refusing me.”
