Page 37 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)

Healing Waters

T he faint smell of lemon and citrus nudges me awake.

Bright lanterns line the sides of the infirmary, illuminating a large, open space where slender white beds line the walls in intervals.

The glass ceiling is vaulted, and old wooden beams cross overhead in heavy, sloping lines.

Plants are draped every few feet, giving the space a strange, organic feeling.

I blink away the grogginess. I am lying in one of the beds, the crisp white sheet pulled high up onto my chest. I scoot upward, conjuring the events of the night in my mind.

“Ouch!” Pain lances through my ribs.

“Akemi! You are awake, thank the Goddess,” Ramona sits at the edge of my bed and rests a hand on my leg. “Leaf! Castor! She’s up!” she calls over her shoulder.

I smile at the sight of my friends circling my bed despite the painful itching of healing skin. My stomach rumbles with hunger. “How long have I been out for?”

“You were pretty beat up, Akemi. Couple broken ribs,” Leaf says, confirming my suspicions.

“You’ve been out for two days since the first task,” Castor adds, handing me a bowl of soup. “You are probably starving. It’s already midday.”

“Thanks,” I say, cradling the bowl of steaming carrots and potatoes between my palms. I slurp down the savory liquid and almost immediately feel relief.

I didn’t expect to be out for days after the task.

Well… I suppose I wasn’t sure exactly what I expected.

After another couple of sips, I take in the status of my friends.

They appear mostly unscathed besides Leaf’s swollen eye.

“What happened to everyone? Did we all have the same first task experience? I was transported to a field with a roc!”

Everyone takes turns sharing their battle stories.

Leaf was chosen by Lord Clayoq of the Forest Tribe—to his apparent horror—but ended up battling a ghosthound from the Jord territory.

It took him extra time to finally beat the ghosthound because it solidified only moments before attacking.

His bruised eye is proof of how close he let the hound get before removing the ribbon.

Prince Laden of the River Tribe selected Ramona as his champion—to her great pleasure. She tries to sound nonchalant, but I don’t miss the slight blushing in her cheeks when she mentions the prince’s name. Leaf becomes extra interested in the lint on his shoulders while Ramona gushes.

Both Ramona and Castor were transported into water tanks with shapeshifting kelpies. As I suspected, Castor was first to return with the ribbon. As a Moon’cher—and three-Stone at that—he is a very skilled swimmer. Yet we both know the real reason why he was back first.

Our eyes lock, and from that one look, I can tell that Castor did not report anything about the tampering his father did with the kelpie tank.

Two other champions are being treated in the infirmary besides myself: Artemis, who was selected—to everyone’s surprise—by Tofina of the Forest Tribe, and Leo, champion of Lady Neda, whose blistering skin is wrapped with salves from his encounter with a fire monkey.

I groan just thinking of how much time I’ve lost from studies and training for the next task. Even though I don’t want to know, I find myself asking anyway.

“What are our rankings?”

“It’s not so bad,” Leaf tries to console, handing me a piece of folded paper.

I try not to let the anger and disappointment flush my cheeks. At least I’m ranked higher than Leo and Artemis, who are also currently lying in an infirmary bed.

“I cannot believe they took off points for that tiny scratch I gave the kelpie,” Ramona whines. “If you ask me, it was the least damage I could have done.” She twirls a dagger between her fingers.

I finally peel my eyes from the piece of paper. “Congratulations, Castor.”

His expression remains neutral, like he’s ignoring the giant way his father just rigged the entire first task. So this is the game we are playing, huh.

We stare at each other in challenge.

Ramona breaks the tension, dropping a few books on my bed.

“Homework from Elementation—Gregorio is asking for ten pages by next week—your Old World History textbook for tomorrow, and a few other books I bought from our room.”

While I appreciate her bringing me supplies, there is no way I’m staying here another night. “Thanks for the books, but let’s go back to our room. I want to sleep in my own bed.” I start to stand, but white hot pain stabs in my torso. My vision pulses.

Frustrated, I sit back down.

“Easy does it, Cadet Nox.” A woman in all white walks toward me and sets a gentle hand on my shoulder.

Her eyes are narrow, and small smile lines frame her mouth.

Her skin is peppered with age, yet her movement is graceful.

A large silver name plate pinned to her ironed coat says Panacea, Moon’cher Healer .

“You are going to stay one more night under our care. You only just woke up, and I’m afraid that you need more time to heal before we release you.”

“But I have to get back to class tomorrow or I’m going to fall even more behind.” I have to get back to training for the Summit.

“We will reassess your condition in the morning, dear. This decision was finalized by the Elder Superior himself.”

Of fucking course.

Castor’s downcast eyes are all the confirmation I need to know that he won’t be stepping in to discredit his father’s orders.

“I understand.” My words come out bitter.

The Moon’cher Healer leaves, and soon thereafter Ramona, Leaf, and Castor head out to dinner and train. As the night descends, my only company is Leo’s snores, flickering orb lights, and the… glowing lily on my bedside table.

It’s the same type of lily that he touched down in the hot springs.

The Lord of Terraguard doesn’t care about me. He just needs his champion healed so he can win the advantage to negotiate the peace treaty deal first. That is what all the royals want out of the Summit: the ability to write new laws in favor of their territory for the next twenty-five years.

The vase is small and circular, clear with a wide opening on the top. A singular closed bloom floats on the surface of the water. The petals are the lightest shade of pink and pulse with light, as if hiding a glowing treasure within.

I absolutely do not think it’s beautiful. Not a kind gesture at all. The Underworld Lord probably sent one of his Coredivers to deliver the flowers anyway. He doesn’t owe me anything; perhaps he already regrets picking such a weak champion.

As if my words conjure it, a stabbing pain rolls through my side. I hiss through my teeth. I swear the floating lily glows brighter, taunting me.

Enough .

I carefully swing one foot over the side of the bed, tugging the infirmary gray robes against my chest. My slippers are quiet on the stone floor as I sneak through the shadowy room between the rows of beds.

I know the path by heart, walking steadily until I’m deep under the castle standing in front of the softly bubbling spring. Miki brushes against my ankles. He’s been purring since joining me in the library, happy to saunter next to me down to the caves.

My body begins to hum at the thought of being submerged in the hot water. In the distance, I can hear the persistent dripping echoing in triplets, like a siren calling me into her depths.

I untie the waistband of my robe and wince in pain as I shrug the shoulders down my arms. Tears well in the backs of my eyes, half from the pain in my ribs and half from the emotion bottled deep within. I should be proud of making it into the Summit. Hell, making it into the Watch.

So then why do I feel so exhausted? So much closer to and yet so incredibly far from completing an impossible task? It’s like I’m crossing a ravine, balancing on a rotting beam that could break at any moment.

The fall doesn’t scare me. It’s the fact that no one is at the bottom to help me pick up the pieces.

“Here, let me,” a deep voice rasps. The Lord of Terraguard comes out from the darkness between columns of rock.

He is wearing a loose black shirt, half unbuttoned.

His white hair is tousled, silver eyes strained and dark, like he hasn’t slept.

The flare of a cigroot burns in his mouth.

In a few powerful strides, he stands behind me, his chest a solid wall behind my head.

He smells of leather, seabreeze, and smoke.

I stiffen at his proximity.

His voice is gentler this time. “I know you are hurt. Let me help you.”

I try to think reasonably, but I’m finding it’s rather difficult between the pain and the huge Underling standing only an inch behind me. I either let him help me, or I continue to pretend like shrugging off this robe isn’t straining seven different muscles and further injuring my ribs.

I give in, just this once, and sigh, “Fine, Lord Atlys. If that’s what you want.”

“I want you to call me Atlys,” he whispers into the crook of my neck, eliciting an eruption of shivers from the crown of my head to my toes.

“Atlys.” I turn my head slightly to the side, looking down at my shoulder where one of his tattooed hands now rests. “You and I both know I need to heal faster so that I’m ready for the next task.”

“Yes, little human.”

“A human named Akemi,” I snap, annoyed.

“You are as fiery as the sun,” he says approvingly, slowly lifting off my robe. His hands glide down my arm, leaving a trail of fire in my veins. And for a moment, I believe him, that perhaps there is a part of me that is as hot as the sun.

Next, he unties the cotton strings at the back of my beige infirmary dress. The fabric falls in a puddle around my feet. I hear Atlys suck in a quick breath.

I stand fully exposed, facing away from him, though I know he is looking.

I can feel his eyes scan my bruised ribs as if he is judging each mark, evidence of how dreadfully weak his champion really is.

I step out of my slippers, trying to muster a semblance of strength, only to find my knees weaken and give out.

Atlys is there to catch me. Swinging one arm under my knees and another around my back.

And, sun burn me, tears begin to fall down my cheeks in earnest. I’m not sure if they are from the pain I feel coursing throughout my body, embarrassment of this whole situation, or my failure to place better in the first task of the Summit.

Exhaustion curls over me in waves.

I rest my head against Atlys’ chest. He looks furious. Jaw clenched, eyebrows knit in concentration. Tiny pebbles dislodge from the ceiling as his power rumbles throughout the cave. Essences of his shadowed wings begin to form behind him. Still fully clothed, he carries me into the water.

The Source ripples around him. No, from within him.

I wonder if I should be terrified, but I only just relax further into his arms—the arms of my enemy.

“Rest, my Sunrise,” Atlys whispers. “Let the water heal you.”

He holds me as I cry.

He holds me as I heal.

He holds me, even still, when I am dreaming.