A Blaze in the Dark (A New Dawn #1)

Chapter 18 - Alex

Times are hard. The voices of discontent growl as their stomachs rumble louder. A Jade Islandic Fire Magician arrived at court yesterday, seeking an urgent audience.

Abby was dead.

With shaky rhythmic movements, Alex stroked the nose of the beautiful black mare with an equally black mane. The Scorian horse stared at her blankly, blowing warm air out of her nose, while the Stable Master jabbered on in the background, "... during the winte' moons, we fed he' oat and beet pulp, but..."

Alex inhaled a sharp breath that got stuck in her throat. Yanking Abby out of her mother's lifeless embrace had been pointless; she might as well have died surrounded by those who loved her most. It would have been easier for Nick too. He had lived on a high of hope, and fallen so deep in the depth that Wrath had created for him.

"... of course then this needed to be adjusted." The Stable Master patted the saddle on the shelf behind him, its leather glimmering in the hue of sunlight.

Alex bit her lip, her stomach tumbling down to her toes. Less than ten feet between her and a potential way out.

She could not. Not because it was the King's horse she was petting—she did not care—but because the attack on Laneby had been a cruel test of the God of Pride; one that she had failed. She hadn't been able to save Fox. She hadn't even tried to save Abby. If she left now, she would lose Seb and Nick too.

The black mare tossed her head, as if she too wanted to refrain Alex from abandoning her friends. Besides, running away wouldn't stop the pain that the Gods were inflicting on her.

She laid her hand on her stomach and swallowed an excess of saliva as cramps raged war in her body, spreading guilt through every vein. Lord Brandon would be so disappointed in her. Strutting around with her bow and shooting a tree to grab a man's attention was not the way of the warriors. The Captain had spared her no glance. His officers had mostly avoided her. And now Nick would probably never talk to her again.

"Eve'ything al'ight, Missy? Ya look a little pale."

Instead of the Stable Master's friendly eyes, the hateful scorn of the magician flashed before her. Bile quickly rose at the back of her throat. She sank down on the straw and reached for a nearby bucket. Thick tears sprung from her eyes as she hurled out chunks of the half-digested cheese sandwich she'd had for lunch.

"No-no, Missy, 't is no good. Meh clove's. Meh fresh clove's fo' Lady Fa'ah." The rest of the Stable Master's yammering was deafened by a second wave of nausea covering more slime over the man's clovers.

There was nothing she could do to stop it. The Gods were having her in their power now. She was the piece of worn-out cloth they tossed around as they invented new ways to turn her life into a living hell. Since she was a pathetic excuse of a warrior and an even more terrible friend, she deserved nothing less.

She wobbled as she finally managed to sit up without heaving. A sharp whistle pierced her throbbing head.  "Mike, clean out this bucket. Can't give this to no beastie no mo'e."

"Aye, Master Dicky. I'll go and get new clovers for Lady Farah too."

"Do that." The Stable Master slid his arm under Alex's body and picked her up, throwing her over his bony shoulder. "Come, Missy, lemme get ya out of he're. Give ya some ai—'"

"Put me down!" The abruptness of the man's actions gave room to Wrath. She slammed her fists onto his back, her voice scraping against her painfully sour throat. "I'm almost a woman grown, not some infant that needs to be carried. I can walk."