Fires of War (War and Deceit #4) - Erin O'Kane Page 0,122
where I rest in his arms.
Pain wakes me. Sharp, piercing pain that feels like my back is being shredded. My muscles spasm as I arch, anything to try and ease the agony. I gasp, that’s all I can do, my breath stolen from me with the strength of the convulsion.
“Shh, try to relax your muscles, it will pass,” a familiar voice instructs as something warm is pressed against my spine. The relief is instant, and I feel like I can breathe again, my memories returning.
Slowly, I try to do as I was told and work on relaxing my muscles one by one, sinking into the warmth of the pad behind me. Once more in control of my body, I open my eyes to find I’m lying on some soft matting, facing a plain wall. The gentle sounds of people moving around behind me indicate we’re not alone.
“Wilson,” I whisper, and the person closest to me freezes. Gingerly, for fear of triggering another spasm, I turn on the mat and see my friend kneeling by my side. My eyes instantly fill with tears, but I refuse to let them fall, instead, I smile tentatively up at him. “Hi.”
He seems different. Still Wilson, my friend, but the weathered, harrowed look in his eyes is new. I’ve seen that look before. I still see it sometimes when I gaze in the mirror before I remind myself that I got away, that my life is different now. He appears older too, but I suppose living rough without the comforts of the castle will force you to grow up pretty quickly.
He lets out a large sigh but leans forward and cups my cheek with his hand. “Hey, Clarissa.” His smile is all Wilson, his dimples making me beam all the more. When he pulls his hand away, I scan the modest room we’re currently in. About the size of a simple pantry, it has basic white walls and no windows. The only entrance is the door directly opposite of where I’m currently lying, a hanging cloth the only barrier to separate the room from the rest of the city. There’s a pile of padded mats around the space, suggesting that several people sleep here at night, but it’s quiet and tidy now. Other than Wilson and me, there are two other people in the room, both women who are trying to keep busy, but I notice a few scared looks thrown over at me by the younger of the two. Then I spot the baby at her breast. Blowing out a troubled breath, I look away, realising she’s probably terrified.
I use my arms to push myself up into a sitting position, hating how much effort the simple movement took. I brush my hand over my face, pushing my hair back, and I realise the crown my aunt gave me is missing. My eyes widen for a second. I’m distressed I’ve lost it, not because of what it was, but because of who it was from. Taking a deep breath, I lower my hand, balling it into a fist and resting it in my lap. In the grand scheme of things, a lost crown isn’t something to be upset over. I’m still alive, and from the frantic pulling in my chest, so are my mates, and they’re trying to find me.
“Where are we?” I keep my voice low so as not to startle the two ladies. I shift uncomfortably on the mat, my muscles aching and protesting. “How long have I been out? And how did you get me away from Rhydian?”
“As soon as your hand left the barrier, it reformed, trapping Rhydian behind it,” he replies with a shrug, but his eyes sparkle, and I know he finds it satisfying that the prince was stuck behind his own barrier. “Somewhere safe in the city,” Wilson tells me, watching me with careful eyes as he passes me a chipped cup of water. I accept gratefully, sucking down the cool liquid.
“It’s better you don’t know just in case.” His somber words make me pause, and I meet his eyes over the top of the mug. He means just in case things go wrong and I get caught. Just what has my friend been through while I’ve been gone? As if knowing what I’m thinking, he smiles sadly at me. “You’ve only been out for about an hour, so we can catch up with your friends. One of your elves is wreaking havoc in the slums.”