Tainted

Chapter Twenty-One

A sound jerks me awake and a raw fire of pain blooms in my chest. I curl forward, gritting my teeth until it subsides.

There's rustling in the bushes next to me.

The guards, I think, my heart falling, they've found me. My hand moves to my hip, but my knife's not there. I look frantically around, desperate for some sort of a weapon, but there's nothing I can use. Nothing I can reach fast enough. So with my muscles straining, I curl my hand into a fist, and wait.

But it's not the guards who push through the vines to where I am. It's a tall gangly man dressed in a cream-colored waistcoat and well-fitted pants tucked into knee-high calfskin boots, and a short, dimpled boy wearing an oversized blue velvet robe.

The man has a full saber at the ready. My eyes widen in fear. I have nothing, save for the small scalpel still tucked into the pocket of my gown, but what good will that do against a saber?

The man leans forward. A shock of red hair covers his scalp, reaching the tips of his ears, and a disarming smile charms his lips. Freckles dust the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. He can't be much older than me.

He takes a closer look at my left forearm. "You're the Thief," he says, recognition flashing across his face. The dimpled boy gasps.

"Mira," I correct, my voice hoarse. I try to straighten my spine to meet Red Hair's gaze, but my broken arm twists and I flinch and hiss.

"May I?" he asks, indicating my arm. His voice is liquid and alluring, and I hate the flush it brings to my cheeks.

"What are you going to do?" I ask. I notice he's lowered the saber, but he hasn't yet let it go. If he comes closer, I might be able to surprise him and grab it out of his hand.

"I'm a healer," Red Hair says.

I look at him more closely.

"Are you old enough to be a healer?" I ask. My head is reaching an almost unbearable ache. I'm struggling to keep my focus. I can feel panic building in my chest. I don't know who these people are or what they want from me and I'm scared.

Red Hair's nostrils flare. "Yes," he says without inflection. Dimples looks to him, almost nervous.

Red Hair straightens. He sheaths the saber and watches me over the tip of his nose.

"You're supposed to be dead," he says.

I don't answer.

Red Hair jerks his head toward the prison. "They're looking for someone up there. Apparently, the warden's been murdered. Know anything about that?" He keeps his hand resting on the hilt of his saber.

Dimples looks back and forth between the two of us, his face pale.

I glare up at Red Hair. "No," I say. I don't want to tell him the truth, and I definitely don't want to tell him the lie. Hopefully, though, if they're still looking for someone, then the healer hasn't yet been found. I don't need another person's blood on my hands.

"You're lying," Red Hair says. His teeth are almost as perfectly white as Camden's.

The thought of Camden sends another pang through my injured chest and I wince.

"I can't help you unless you tell the truth. Do you know anything about who murdered the warden," Red Hair says.

My eyes are slits against the pain. I try to look at them both but bright spots keeping popping against my lids.

I try to take shallow breaths. Anything deeper stretches my stitches and hurts too much to bear.

If Red Hair wanted to kill me, he would've done it, but he sheathed his saber.

"I didn't murder the warden, if that's what you're asking," I say, sighing.

Red Hair nods, thinking. "Do you know who did?"

"Not who they claim. It's a set up." My head lolls on my neck. I feel woozy.

Branches crunch as Red Hair steps forward. He kneels down on my left.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Thief," he says.

"Mira," I mumble, my lips barely moving.

"I want to help you. The guards don't know who escaped, but they know someone did, and they're going to keep looking for you. They will find you. And when they do, they will not be pleased. I can take you back to Haven, away from all this, and I can fix you until you're ready to go home, or go wherever it is that you want to go. But I need you to answer something for me." Red Hair gently picks up my shattered left arm. It throbs and burns as he gingerly sets it on his knee, and I can't keep my eyes from streaming.

Red Hair reaches behind him with one hand, using the other to keep my arm in place, and breaks two twin branches off the nearby bush. He sets them on the ground, and lifts up a corner of his waistcoat, pulling at the satin undershirt beneath.

I watch as he tears a strip of cloth from his undershirt and places the branches on either side of my wrist.

"Let's clean this for you first," Red Hair says soothingly. He tears another strip of cloth from his shirt and uses it to gently brush away the dirt and mud from my forearm.

My Fate is misshapen from the broken bones, but it's still clear to read: Thief.

I keep very still as Red Hair stares at it, reading the letters.

"What a beautiful Fate," he murmurs. He runs a featherlight finger across the word. Tiny bubbles seem to pop under my skin beneath his touch.

No one has touched my Fate in three years. They've always been too afraid.

Red Hair picks up the other strip of satin and lashes it around my arm, the sticks keeping the bones straight and secure.

"This isn't enough," Red Hair says. "You'll need medicine, a better splint. I can help you, if you'll come with us?"

"Where?" I ask. I barely have enough air. I'm starting to shake again, and Red Hair reaches out to hold my shoulders steady.

"Haven," he says, looking into my eyes. "It's a place where people like you and me don't need to hide."

He lets go of my shoulders and pulls back the left sleeve of his linen shirt. Bending my neck, I can see that Red Hair's freckled arm is covered in pale, raised scars, crisscrossing every which way. But beneath them, a word is written perfectly in black, indelible ink. Rogue.

"It's a word deemed too 'negative' for this society," Red Hair says with a bitter smile. "But in Haven, it's a blessing."

A breeze flutters through the trees, carrying the sounds of guards...and dogs.

"Will you come with us?" Red Hair asks, pulling his sleeve back down to his wrist.

I need to get home, I think. But I can't go home, not like this. I can't fight, I can't protect myself. What if the guards come after me? What if anyone comes after me once they recognize my face? Red Hair did, he knew right away who I was. I need to be able to defend myself, and right now I can't. The Shadows are close by, I can feel them. I need Red Hair's help, otherwise I won't make it home.

I blink back the image of the glittering waters of the Laplands and swallow. "Yes," I say.

It's the only way, I tell myself. You can go home immediately after you heal. You can see your father again. Focus on that.

Red Hair leans forward. He's so close to me. His hair smells of rose and lavender, and I can see that his eyelashes are the same brilliant red at their roots, before they grow to be nearly translucent at their ends.

"Hang on tight," he whispers in my ear, a smile on his lips.

And then he picks me up, and the world falls away beneath my feet.