“For Tides’ sake,” she mutters. “I don’t have one.” The waterwielder pries my mouth open with two fingers, then shoves the bread inside.
I’m tempted to spit it out just to spite her, but I haven’t eaten a morsel in three days. With the iron shackles, I can’t sense the well of my power in my chest, but I imagine it’s flickering weakly. Begrudgingly, I eat the remaining pieces of bread she feeds me. When I’ve finished, she wields a thin stream of water from her canteen and guides it into my mouth.
“Why didn’t you let me die?” she asks, brows drawn together. “When I was bleeding out.”
Because I never stopped loving you. I don’t think I ever will.
Rage and hatred swirl inside my chest, a storm threatening to burst, but I can’t discern if I’m angry at myself for my weakness or her for her betrayal.
“You’re mine to kill,” I force out. The coldness in my voice isn’t feigned. “I’ll die before I let you leave this world of your own choice.”
She slowly meets my gaze, her eyes hard.
“Why are you helping me?” I repeat.
“You’ll die if I don’t. Father has plans for you.”
The waterwielder heals my broken ankle and toes in silence—two warriors had taken turns stomping on them.
When she’s finished, she sets her palms to my chest again. A soothing numbness radiates through me.
She’s easing my pain.
“Stop,” I snap.
“You’re in pain.”
“I saidstop.” I muster as much hatred into my glare as I can manage. With one eye still swollen shut, I doubt it’ll have much effect. “The pain reminds me I’m still alive. And if I’m alive, I can still kill you.”
She turns away quickly and storms off.
And I’m alone once more.
Chapter Fifty
Icanbreatheeasier,andit fills me with rage.
The waterwielder sits beside the other healer in the camp, watching the warriors run maneuvers with the general, while Tormik observes with pursed lips. He seems like a man who is never pleased.
I know the type well.
The other woman tended to minor injuries the warriors sustained during training, but the waterwielder sits as though in a daze.
For what must be the fifth time in an hour, her eyes find mine.
They widen when a warrior breaks away from formation during a pause between maneuvers and stalks over toward me.
Time for my first beating of the day.
The warrior is tall and lean, a twisted black scar cutting across his clavicle—he’s faced an earthwielder.
“You murdered my father,” the man spits, ice-blue eyes frosted with malice. “His name was Tommak. Do you even remember him?”
I make a show of pretending to think about it. “I remember him. Tall grunting brute with a round belly? Squealed like a pig when I—”
The man hauls back and punches me in the abdomen, the blow cracking against my lower ribs. The air rushes out of me, but I still grin through the pain. “Your father’s corpse hit harder than you do.”
Blood flies through the air as he punches me in the face, its copper tang bitter in my mouth.
