Half-Sight

12 | orphan

12. ORPHAN

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I WAKE TO a blinding headache.

The world swims slowly into existence. A bitter herbal smell tickles my nose. Freshly washed linens. Lanterns buzz overhead. A warm haze of gold rests over the air, and something soft is wrapped over my clothes, like a cloud. In fact...

I push myself up. The instant I do, a sharp needle of pain lances from my ribs up my spine.

"Ouch," I mutter under my breath. A fluffy blanket slips off my body. I'm wearing a black robe, and a thick weight wraps around my entire torso. Bandages.

The blur around me finds shape. I'm wrapped in a thick bedroll in an unfamiliar room. Tatami doors float into existence, and outside, I hear the pattern of rain. There's a low table not far away. Steam wafts from a quiet pot.

A sleepy hum sounds behind me. I'm so startled I jump, then release a regretful hiss of pain.

In a somewhat boyish fashion, Ren rolls sleepily onto his side in a separate bedroll a few feet away, his body facing me. I blink with surprise and confusion, too lost to believe he could be here next to me.

How...

I can't help but savor the vulnerability of this moment. He's so close I can make out the details of his scar—the ragged edges working their way across the narrow bridge of his nose, no longer sneering but rather a simple line in sleep. His brows are relaxed, his skin clear of creases, his lashes lowered. Despite the sharp angles of his face, I catch a youthful curve to his cheeks.

An early morning blue glows richly outside the screen doors. The calm air of the room sinks into my skin.

I haven't waken up like this in years. To open my eyes and smell something hot and steaming, waiting for me. To feel someone's presence nearby.

It feels like home.

With effort, I sit up fully. Ren stirs with another hum.

His eyes meet mine, bright against shadow. I go still, so caught off guard I forget to breathe.

No words leave his mouth. Instead, surprise and relief overwhelms his face so completely I read it as easily as if he'd spoken.

He pushes himself up as if I'm the only thing he can see. "Hina."

I don't know what to say, stunned by the expression on his face, so similar to the way he looked at Bohai the night Bohai was sick on his couch. As if Bohai was all that mattered.

And then, just like that, everything rushes back. Daizo, the auction, the white mist, the screaming crowds.

Bohai, gone.

Panic rises into my throat. Bohai. I don't even realize I've shifted until pain flares from my side. "Where's—"

A hand touches my arm. "He's not here. I searched everywhere."

"I—"

"Daizo took him," says Ren for me. His voice lowers. "I know."

I look away. Unwarranted, tears well up, and I lie back down, closing my eyes. "I lost him."