Page 152

YOUR SIDE

I swim back to my consciousness, breath by ragged breath. A cough rips me out of my sleep, and I sit up to cover my mouth, blood spattering my hand.

A woman hands me a glass of water. “Here, drink.”

Wheezing, I take the glass and sip. My throat burns, as if I swallowed fire and it singed every nerve spanning my throat and mouth. As the fog of my sleep wears off, I realize the woman is the same rebel I set free. Except now, her skin is clear of blood and dirt. Her long black hair sweeps over the crusted gash I sewed up on her forehead.

Handing her back the glass, I scan the room around me. I’m in a bed, surrounded by rows of other empty beds.

But this isn’t the healer’s quadrant.

In fact, I don’t recognize where I am. And I don’t see anyone else in here other than the rebel woman.

My heart picks up its pace as I try to piece together where I am. And why I don’t remember where I am. I fumble at my sides for a dagger, a sword, anything.

The words cascade out of my mouth. “Where am I? Why can’t I remember? Who are you? Where are my friends? Where is my dragon? ”

“You’re okay. You’re safe,” the rebel woman whispers. She holds out a hand to calm me. “Your dragon is being tended to. I can take you to her, if you wish.”

“Daeja?”I check.

A heavy sigh of relief blasts my mind. “You’re okay! How are you feeling? You almost died—”

“I...think I’m okay? Where are you?”

“Outside and safe, don’t you worry about me. Let’s focus on you.”

I inch forward with a wince.“I’m coming to see you.”

“The two leggers say you’ve been critically injured. Stay. I’m not leaving you. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

I turn my attention to the rebel woman. “And what of Cole? The captain with the red hair.”

“He’s talking with our leader, Sethan, who just came in from the north.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Archie and Marge? The man with us when I cut you free, and the Spoiled?”

“They are both fine. He sustained minor cuts and bruises. But fine.”

A smile warms my face, and I cover my mouth again as another cough sneaks up my throat. More blood specks my palm.

“You had a lot of smoke inhalation. Fire like that isn’t good to breathe in. And you were wounded in battle…it’s nothing short of a miracle you survived. You should rest,” the woman says and tries to gently push me back down.

I brace against her touch, adamant I won’t go back down. A deep ache sputters in my side at the flex, and glancing down, I find my torso is wrapped in thick bandages.

I glance back up at the woman. “Listen…”

“Tawny.”

“Tawny,” I mirror and hold out my hand. “Katerina.”

But rather than shaking my hand, she takes it to reluctantly pull me to my feet and steadies me. She cups my elbows with her hands, allowing me to brace against her.

“Thanks,” I whisper, grabbing her arms and grimacing at the way my muscles scream against the confines of my skin.

She dips her head in response.

My hands shake as I grip her biceps tighter, my body weak and threatening to collapse at any moment. “Why haven’t you killed me yet? Am I a hostage? I thought rebels didn’t take prisoners?”