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She righted herself, tipping her head back against the wall. Her hairline was damp with sweat, face wet with tears. She took a drink from a waterskin, rinsing the vomit taste from her mouth, before she bit down on the leather once more and brought the knife to her skin.

Razik’s roar of fury as he flew out of this cave.

His cry of agony when the bolt hit him.

Falling from the sky.

Not knowing where he was.

Knowing he was in unbearable pain.

Those things were what she focused on as she cut and dug and screamed until, finally, she threw the arrow piece across the cave, hearing it clatter as stone met stone. She had a tunic ready and waiting, and she pressed it to the wound, her chest heaving as she panted. Her vision was blurry, not that she could see anything in the darkness of the cave. Her entire body was cold and clammy.

But it was out. The shirastone was out. Now it was a waiting game.

Turning to look at the cave mouth, she found it just as pitch dark beyond. She’d been right. She’d woken in the evening.

She had lain everything out as she’d unpacked it— the tunic, jars of antiseptic and ointment she always traveled with, bandages. She’d even managed to cut strips off another tunic to tie around the wound once she cleaned it.

Her hands were trembling violently when she was finally done, and she slumped back against the wall. With the last bit of strength she had, she reached for Razik’s pack, dragging it across the cave floor. There was no careful unpacking this time. She shook the pack out, hearing various items scatter across the ground. She was trying to find a spare tunic to pull on, having had to cut her tunic off to bandage the wound as best she could. Her fingers brushed against a cloak. He must have removed it while he’d been exploring the cave, trying to decide if it was a good one. What the fuck made a cave a “good cave” anyway? What was so special about his cave in the Nightmist Mountains?

That was her thought as she tugged his cloak over herself, closing her eyes.

But those weren’t her last thoughts as unconsciousness finally won out.

No, those thoughts were of Varlis.

Dead.

Varlis was dead.

Sorin, Cyrus, and Rayner had all offered, at one point or another, to track the male down and kill him for what he had done to her. She’d declined, not wanting to waste another moment on the piece of shit. She’d built herself a perfectly fine life despite what he’d done to her. That had been the best form of revenge she could think of, and it had worked. It had clearly infuriated him to no end that she not only lived, but thrived. That she had risen to such a level of power within the Fire Court with the flames the male loathed.

But that had never been the real reason she had denied them his death.

She didn’t need a male to avenge her or go after the Earth Fae.

If anyone was going to kill Varlis, it would be her, and she would make damn sure she looked him in the eyes when she did it with her fucking fire.

* * *

She drifted in and out of consciousness. At one point, she glimpsed blue sky at the cave entrance through bleary eyes. The next time she remembered anything, it had been dark again. This time, it was either early morning or late twilight, a few stars visible.

But that was a spark in her blood, and thank Anala for that. With a shuddering breath, she managed to drag up enough power to warm her body and start a small fire.

Then she slipped into nothing again.

* * *

The cry of a hawk jolted her awake, and she cursed under her breath as she shifted. Her entire body ached. Her shoulder from the shirastone and the digging and cleaning she’d done to the wound. Her head from dehydration. Her ass and back from sleeping against a cave wall. Why Razik willingly chose to sleep in a cave over his rooms most nights was beyond her. There was no way in the realms that was comfortable, even if he slept in his dragon form.

That was sunlight shining into the cave though. Between that and the fire still burning, she could make out the general layout of the space. It wasn’t overly large. It would have actually been perfect for what they’d been looking for. A small hidden area to come up with a plan.

Tucking her chin, she could see the make-shift bandage around her injury. The tunic was just starting to show spots of blood. Which was good. She’d clearly slept for at least two days, if not more. If blood was just now reaching the outer layers of the bandage, she’d packed the wound well in her semi-lucid state.

Gathering the supplies close to her once more, she cleaned it out and applied a new dressing before searching for food and the waterskin. She worked Razik’s cloak around her shoulders, her torso still bare from the waist up, save for the band around her breasts. Then she forced herself to get up and walk around a bit while she chewed on dried meat and nuts, her stomach revolting a little at the food. Small bites. Protein for energy. Little sips of water to rehydrate. Just like before.

Only he had been there taking care of her before. He’d never made it obvious that’s what he was doing. He had this way of taking care of her without her realizing that’s what he was doing until long after he’d drawn her into some stupid conversation and she’d eaten half a piece of chocolate cake. It was annoying and foolish and the only way she’d ever let a male care for her in that way. That he’d figured that out so quickly…