The White Shadow

13. Alone And Afraid

You were attacked, but the shadow overtook you all. But the shadow overtook you all—overtook you all . . ." Reina's voice echoed. Firmin opened his eyes.

     She was gone. His room swam in and out of focus, as he vaguely remembered being dragged over the ground, away from the bandit camp. He blinked and tried to sit up.

     "No, no, no." Roxanne was suddenly there, pushing him back against the pillow. Her voice distorted and Firmin shifted his head, hoping his hearing would adjust. "Lie down."

     Firmin looked up at her face, her smiling face. "Why are you here?" he asked, not able to fathom that maybe he'd survived, that seeing Reina and feeling better wasn't just a phase of passing into death. "Why am I not . . . dead?"

     "I don't care," Roxanne sobbed. "I don't care what you say, I am happy you are alive."

     She leaned over the bed and wrapped her arms around him.

     Firmin didn't move. He quickly stopped smelling the scent of lavender and whatever other perfumes Roxanne wore, and inhaled Reina—pine, dirt, flowers, and honey, imagining it was Reina holding him. He closed his eyes. Took in a steady breath.

     When Firmin opened his eyes, Reina was gone. Even as he accepted the embrace and put his arms around Roxanne—a close friend of another time—he looked past her shoulder. At the wall of his room. And he felt alone.

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"Their camp, only a night's walk away from my estate?" The duke stared at Firmin.

     "I don't suspect any survived, if so, they would have likely left," said Firmin. He tried to remain still as Aethelu stitched up his wound. She'd heavily implored the duke to do this when Firmin wasn't conscious, for his sake and hers, as Firmin could hardly hold still, even with the numbing oils and the drugs. But Buhemonte had questions he wanted immediate answers for.

     "Where is he?" The door opened and Gethin stormed inside. Aethelu jumped and jerked on the string. Firmin winced. His trainer's eyes fell upon him. "How are you well?"

     "Do calm down, you oaf," said Aethelu, just as she finished pulling the last thread of catgut through his skin with a needle. "Our patient is not well."

     "Just alive," said the duke. "Miraculously. But why were you found so close to the estate, commander? I do not understand. You said their hideout was farther away. I am convinced you did not travel back yourself given your condition."

     "I do not know," said Firmin, sitting up straighter in his bed. Aethelu exhaled sharply in annoyance. "I lost consciousness eventually, thank God. Perhaps they thought me dead and wanted to taunt you with the loss of your commander."

     It sounded like a weak excuse, and by the yet confused expressions of everyone in the room made he knew they didn't accept it.

     In reality, he wasn't certain. The dream of Reina coming to his rescue had felt so real—more real than any part of his life had. Perhaps it was true, and she had been the one to carry him back. It was the only explanation he could think of that made him being alive right now even possible.

     But he didn't want to let anyone know he might have encountered the shadow. The duke would be even angrier and would have deemed Firmin a failure all the more. Why he really cared what the duke thought about him was a mystery to him, but Firmin just remained quiet.

     "I do have one question for you, commander," said the duke, arms crossed as he studied him closely, "that you have not yet answered.

     "Yes, Your Grace?"