A Deadly Bite

13 || Control

I wake to a sharp pain shoved into my abdomen. It ebbs after a moment, distant and slippery as the swirling scraps of a winter forest that surround it, but still I gasp with the force of it, clapping my hands over my ribs. My chest heaves beneath them. My eyes snap open, staring blankly at the blurred wooden panes of the wall.

My skin is sticky, coated in sweat and rolling with chills. I lie there, dizzy, aimless alarm tumbling into my tangled thoughts and shooting through my veins, scrambling for some attempt to ground myself.

"Your mind is a tortured place."

I freeze. Harlow's voice cracks through all of it, a thick layer of frost gathering around my pounding heart. Clamping my teeth together to seal in a fresh wave of panic, I stare determinedly at the wall, as if denying his presence will make him go away.

"You dream so darkly and so vividly," he continues, so close behind, impossible to block out. I hear the catch in his breath as he sighs. "I wish I could have found you earlier."

False care stains his tone, splashed haphazardly over the words and drying into their corners, a grating itch that seeps into the air. It curls my toes, my skin sitting uncomfortably over my bones. I pull my knees in to my chest. "Go away." My voice barely breaks above a murmured whimper.

"I'm trying to protect you, Nathaniel."

The temptation snags me like a hook, tugging me in his direction. Rolling to my other side, I snap half-upright, my hand sinking into something soft as it flies out to keep me steady. A pillow. My nails dig into it. "I don't want your protection."

The sheets draped over me crinkle in the wake of my movement, sliding down my torso. Surprise trickles through as reality drains into place. I'm laid in a bed. There are no chains to bind me, no bars to trap me in. This is a simple tavern room, identical to many I've stayed in with the regiment, furnished only with the bed, the bedstand by its side, and the wooden chair that Harlow sits rigid on. The door behind him is closed. My gaze pounces on it regardless, wandering past him and over his shoulder. Chains or not, this is a cage, and my skin tightens with the sensation of it closing in. I suddenly feel light-headed.

"You're safe here," he says, too stiff to be any real comfort.

Gingerly, I ease myself into a sitting position, shaking with the effort. Each thudding pulse embeds itself in my skull. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I keep them shoved back, desperate to hide my fear from him. Once again, he has caught me, and I'm too weak to escape. How much time has passed? Are Sarielle and Fiesi still searching for me?

"Where am I?" I manage.

"A tavern in Kavas." His hands are folded in his lap, the picture of civility, though his eyes are calculating as they study me.

Kavas. We passed through this town on our journey south. It sits on the fringe of the mountains, teetering on the border between Oscensi and Akurin. It's the perfect place for him to build a base. There could be a whole army guarding this tavern. The cage shrinks, stifling my breathing as it presses up against my ribs. "How long was I asleep?" The question rushes from my tongue.

"Only a few hours. We haven't long since arrived." He leans back a little, the chair creaking as his back rests against it. "I thought it best we have this discussion somewhere comfortable."

He could easily be lying, yet his plain, matter-of-fact tone gives no suggestion of the possibility, smoothed by simple logic. He has no real reason to lie to me about any of this. No matter where I am or how long I've been here, I can't escape.

I swallow hard, and as I do so I'm suddenly aware of the collar tight against my neck. I'm sure it rises higher than I remember. I touch a hand to it, catching its soft, smooth material between my fingers, as my gaze drops to scan the rest of my tunic. My throat closes up. It's dyed a rich midnight-black, a silver band wrapped snug around my waist, the tunic's seams edged with sickeningly familiar thread of the same colour. Its sleeves end just before my elbows. I grip the collar harder, the roaring desire to tear every inch of it to shreds coursing through me. My blood is sharp in my veins. "Let me go."