Page 4

I let out a quiet breath. “You make excuses for me.”

“I speak truth,” he says shaking his head.

For a long moment, neither of us says anything. The cavern hums with the distant sounds of the Zmaj, the flickering fire casting shifting shadows across the stone floor.

“You would have been a better Shaman,” I say at last, a bitter sort of amusement curling at the edges of my words.

“No. I would have been a terrible one,” Vapas chuckles, low and rough.

His lips twitch, but there’s no true mirth behind it.

I study him, the lines of his face, the steady composure he always carries. His lack of blame unsettles me more than rage ever could. Because it means he still believes in me.

I am no longer sure I deserve it. Yet somehow, they still follow me into the dark.

3

ELARA

“Mmph,” I grunt, clenching my teeth.

The cloth scrapes rough against my skin, biting down harder as the young guard jerks it tight. He looks up, frowning deeply, and shakes his head.

“It must be tight,” he mutters, then jerks the two ends of the cloth, causing my ankle to move. The pain is sharp and fast.

I throw my head back, tears filling my eyes, and do my level best to not open my mouth and scream. He grunts as if satisfied.

“Fuck,” I exhale, breathing heavily. My vision stops swimming and I see he’s studying the brace he built around my ankle. He nods in what looks like satisfaction then meets my eyes. “Oh great, you’re a sadistic son of a bitch too?”

“I do not know this word.”

“Which one? Bitch? Or sadistic?”

He shrugs. “Both?”

I shake my head. My ankle throbs with pain. It’s swollen to twice its normal size and there is a pulsing pain that matches the beating of my heart. He’s placed two flat pieces of wood on either side then tied them tightly in place with pieces of cloth.

“Is it broken?” I ask, instead of trying to explain Common words to him.

“Probably,” he shrugs.

“Probably? You don’t know.”

“I am not a healer,” he says, his voice calm, almost dismissive as if this should have been obvious from the beginning.

“Gee, who would have guessed that?”

He climbs to his feet with a huff. He towers over, staring with hard, narrowed eyes. His lips part, I wait for him to speak, then he shakes his head and closes his mouth. He turns his back and takes the single step between him and the door.

“Wait,” I cry out and he stops, one hand on the door. “Don’t… don’t leave me… please.”

“I cannot stay,” he says over his shoulder, not looking directly at me.

My stomach knots and drops at the same time making me feel sick. Cold chills race over my arms. He’s the only one who’s shown me an ounce of kindness or even a hint of dignity. As snarky as I was. I don’t want to be here alone, without him.

“Please,” I whisper, looking around the small cell.

It’s probably not even six feet square. The walls are close set black blocks and though I can see the seam where they meet, there isn’t enough room for even a fingernail between them. They glisten in the flickering light of the torch that is set outside the door, coming through the small barred window.