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Story: The Bones of Benevolence
OF A WALLED CITY’S SCUM
’NEATH THE HOLIEST MOON
THE PROMISED WILL COME
A DAUGHTER DIVINE
WITH BLOOD OF OLD CREED
AND THE WORLD WILL FORGET
THAT ON PAIN THE DEMONS FEED
HER BLOODLINE EXPOSED
BY HE WHO EXACTS PAIN
CURSED TO WALK THE REALM
WHEN EVIL COMES AGAIN
Chapter 33
The ram’s head mask had fallen from Miles’ head when he hit the dirt face down. I was crouched over him, his labored breathing the only sound in the forest as my eyes darted between the arrow in his back and Calomyr —Belin. Belin had shot Miles with an arrow.
“Why did you shoot him?” I spat through my teeth, slowly rising.
“Petra.” My name fell from his lips as both a command and a plea. He stepped forward, concern on his face. “He had you against a tree. He was hurting you.”
Raw anger clawed at the back of my chest. So much time I’d spent longing to look into those eyes again, so many years lost pining for the soul I thought had been the other half of my own.
But all I felt in this moment was pure, icy hatred.
I took a step toward Belin, a barricade between him and Miles. “He was teaching me to fight!” I hit my knees again, my hands landing gently on Miles’ back. “Help him.” Tears flooded my eyes.
“He had you against a tree,” Belin repeated, sputtering. “He was–”
“Fuckinghelp him.”
The Lieutenant’s face was still pressed to the dirt, his fists clenched in pain. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re going to be okay.” I pulled his dark hair away from his neck. “You’re going to be fine.”
Belin kneeled down on the other side of the Lieutenant. “I need to snap the arrow,” he told Miles.
The arrow quaked with every breath Miles took. “Do it.”
Belin gripped the arrow’s shaft as gingerly as he could. “On the count of three. One, two–”
Miles cried out in pain as Belin broke the arrow, leaving just a few inches sticking out from the wound. I blanched at the sound of his agony, desperate to take it away. I hated that I cared about his pain, suddenly longing for the old Miles, for the Miles who hadn’t told me of his guilt, of the responsibility he felt toward my fate. It would have been a hell of a lot easier not to care aboutthatMiles.
“He needs a healer. Help me turn him to his side,” Belin ordered quietly.
“No,” Miles moaned.
“The quicker you’re up, the quicker we can get you to a healer,” Belin answered.
“No,” he repeated.
“It’s going to hurt, but you have to do it,” I said quietly, trying to sound as comforting as I could manage.
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