I just haven't figured out what these orcs want from me yet.
But I will. And when I do, I'll be ready to run.
4
RAKK
Morning air bites at exposed skin as Kaelen and I run the perimeter drills under Gorrak's watch. The old bastard stands at the training ground's edge with arms crossed, barking corrections whenever our footwork falters or our formations slip.
"Again!" His voice cracks like a whip across the yard. "You think dark elves will wait while you catch your breath? Move!"
Kaelen doesn't complain. He never does. Just resets his stance and launches into the next sequence—blade work this time, flowing through defensive patterns with the kind of precision that comes from thousands of repetitions. His movements are cleaner than mine today. More focused.
I'm distracted.
Have been for three days now, ever since we brought the human woman back from the canyon. Ever since I touched her wrist and felt the full weight of everything she's survived crash through me like a physical blow.
My magic hasn't settled since. It hums beneath my skin constantly, a low-level awareness that won't shut off no matter how much I try to suppress it. Every time someone walkspast the healing chambers, every time a door opens or closes anywhere near that section of the base, something in my chest pulls tight with the irrational need to check on her.
To make sure she's still breathing.
"Rakk!" Gorrak's shout snaps my attention back. "Your guard's dropped. Again."
Kaelen's practice blade hovers an inch from my ribs. He pulls back slowly, amber eyes studying my face with the kind of knowing that comes from years of friendship.
"Where's your head at?" he asks quietly, too low for Gorrak to hear.
"Here." The lie tastes bitter. "I'm here."
"Sure." He doesn't believe me. "That's why you've left yourself open three times in the last sequence."
I reset my stance without responding, rolling my shoulders to loosen muscles that feel wound too tight. We run through the drill again. This time I keep my focus on Kaelen's movements, on reading his body language and anticipating strikes before they land.
Better. Still not my best work, but good enough that Gorrak only grunts disapproval instead of shouting.
We drill until the sun's fully risen, until sweat soaks through my training leathers and my muscles burn with exertion. Physical exhaustion helps. Gives me something to focus on besides the constant hum of magic beneath my skin, besides the pull toward the healing chambers that's becoming harder to ignore.
"Adequate." Gorrak's assessment lands somewhere between insult and grudging acknowledgment. "Tomorrow you'll do better, or you'll run the canyon twice before breakfast."
He dismisses us with a wave, already turning toward the barracks where the younger warriors are beginning their own training. Kaelen and I head for the washing chambers in silence,the kind of comfortable quiet that doesn't require filling with meaningless conversation.
But he breaks it anyway.
"She's awake now." He doesn't specify who. Doesn't need to. "Lola says she's drinking the herbal water but still won't speak."
"That's good." My voice sounds steadier than I feel. "The infection was severe. Zurkar wasn't sure she'd recover."
"Zurkar's always sure." Kaelen glances at me sidelong as we walk. "You've been spending a lot of time in the healing chambers."
"Helping Zurkar with supply inventory. Winter preparations."
"Right." He doesn't push, but skepticism bleeds through his tone. "That's all it is."
I don't respond because anything I say will be a lie, and Kaelen knows me too well to miss it. Instead I focus on washing away sweat and dirt, on scrubbing my skin until it's raw and clean and maybe that'll be enough to scrub away the constant awareness of her presence.
It isn't.
By the time I've changed into fresh clothes and headed toward the mess hall for breakfast, that pull in my chest has intensified into something almost physical. Like a rope tied around my ribs, tugging me toward the healing chambers instead of food.
