Mercy (Zuko)

Chapter Eight: The Admiral's Demands

The next several hours pass by slowly before I see anyone again. I can hardly distinguish between night and day, the only indication being a faint surge in my body that makes me think the moon has risen. During that time I didn't sleep and I hardly moved. I just berate myself for ever leaving the safety of Jeong Jeong's camp. I don't know what I was thinking, wandering off when a Fire Nation colony was just a little ways away. I wasn't thinking straight after embarrassing myself, and my pride made me frustrated.

The door opens suddenly with a loud creak and a masked soldier stands in the threshold, bathed in the flicker of flames from the sconces in the ship's hallway.

"Get up," he says to me. "Admiral Zhao wants to see you."

Even if I want to get up, I'm not sure I can. I'm disoriented after the days I spent without food on top of however long I've been here without water. The light from outside of my door makes me wince, and the steady pulsing that comes from the back of my head flares up again.

The soldier doesn't have the patience to ask again and marches over to me. He pulls me up by my arm and drags me through the ship. He climbs a set of stairs that I trip up, then pushes me into an open doorway. Zhao is sitting at a table that's set with two cups of steaming tea. A row of windows are behind him and the natural sunlight is like a breath of fresh air; I speculate it's around midday.

"Take a seat," Zhao offers politely.

I don't fight him and gratefully sit down. The soldier that took me here gave me no sympathy and marched along at a fast clip I could hardly keep up with.

"Have some tea," he says then, gesturing to the cup in front of me.

I hesitate, looking between his cold, falsely cordial eyes and the teacup. I haven't had any water and my head is throbbing. I don't care if green tea makes my dehydration worse at this point, I just need to feel something soothe my dry throat.

I pick the cup up and take a tentative sip. My heart aches as I realized it was ginseng, the kind that Iroh always served me.

"Kohina, is it?"

I look back up but don't answer. This makes Zhao chuckle as if my silence is humorous.

"Zarok did say you were quiet," he muses. "But that's no matter. He also told me something else that's quite interesting."

My grip tightens on the cup.

"You," he leans closer, "are a Water Tribe healer." He waits for me to say something; for me to react, but I won't. Denying it would be fruitless. He's already seen me waterbend and he would never take my word over the word of one of his own.

"Well," he says after a moment, leaning back, "I have a proposition for you—"

"I won't help you," I murmur, quiet yet firm.

Zhao stared at me for a second before scowling. "I don't think that's a very wise idea, little girl."

"I don't care!" I spit, angry now. "I'll never help you."

Zhao scoffs, a twisted grin splitting his mouth. "We'll see about that. You know, Zarok told me something else that was very interesting..."

I frown.

"You are quite fond of that brat, Prince Zuko, aren't you?" he asks rhetorically. "And you also seemed quite trusting of the Blue Spirit."

My eyes widen. He remembers... Does he know that Zuko is the Blue Spirit?

"Oh, yes," he says, as if reading my thoughts. "Don't think I haven't caught onto his little scam."

Wait... I narrow my eyes. He's not certain. He wants me to confirm it. It's a clever tactic, but luckily I was able to pick up on it before I said something damning.