Like fire we burn

Chapter five

Shadow

It didn't matter which way Shadow turned, or even if she lay still, everything hurt. Every movement pulled and tugged at her back.

She awoke countless times to find one of her guards in the chair against the opposite wall. Sleep dragged her under too fast to bother communicating with them beyond a nod or a shake of her head, though she wanted to demand they give her some peace. Did Seth not know how dangerous it was to be left with only the Elite as company? There were things she'd brought from Aste'ra that would have him sliding his blade across her throat.

Days and hours passed, the monotony near unbearable. Dreams haunted her sleep, but reality wasn't much better. Alaric was bound to have noticed her absence now. There would be bounty hunters on her tail again – and though she'd covered her scent trail, she knew they would catch up to her eventually. One of them always did. Gradually, she became stronger as someone forced her to down a foul-tasting liquid twice a day. She assumed the slim brown hands belonged to the female that had stitched her up and changed her bandages.

She could smell the Elite in the room now; immortal storm clouds and iron. Familiar. Dangerous. She cracked open her eyes.

The gold light of afternoon streamed in from a panel of windows above the bed. Her sheets were a crisp white and twisted around her. The bed itself was made to fit wings, though she kept hers tucked against her body out of habit. She didn't know this place – didn't know if she would encounter trouble. The cabin wasn't large, but it would easily accommodate her stretched wingspan. Even the doors had been made with wings in mind. It was all wood, though stones lined the fireplace and floor. Easy to burn down – either these cabins weren't a permanent fixture, or they'd been built last-minute with limited resources. A desk was turned so it could face both the bed and the door. Her bag had been dumped near the foot of the mattress, though there was a narrow closet to her left, just before the heavy canvas curtain.
Shadow's back ached dully, but it was mostly healed now. The Elite – Tyrin – had taken position at the desk, papers littering the worn wood. He was watching her with those wolf eyes, utterly still. She pushed herself into a sitting position and he didn't twitch. He looked ready to pounce.

"How long have I been here?" She croaked, reaching for the mug of cold tea on the bedside table. She took a cautionary sniff of it just in case, but nothing odd leapt out at her.

The muscles in his back shifted as he leaned his elbows on the desk. "Three and a half days," He said. "But you were out for the three-day journey here too."

Six days wasted.

She swallowed down the snarl of annoyance. Something in her expression seemed to amuse him, because he added with a cruel smile, "Only the War Leaders know of your arrival, don't fret."

Shadow sipped at the cold liquid for a while, mulling over her situation. She hadn't seen the outside of the cabin yet, but she was willing to bet that if she could slip away from the Elite, no one would be able to stop her from leaving. But maybe she should stay and let Alaric rage a bit longer. She was still dressed in the pants she'd worn in Aste'ra, but her shirt had been replaced. Running now wouldn't be impossible.

"Where are you going?" Tyrin demanded as she swung her legs over the bed and took a few shaky steps towards the door. "You are weak and injured, Sage. Don't be stupid and force my hand."

"Don't call me that," She growled half-heartedly, discretely leaning against the wall. A blink and he was in front of her, an intimidating wall of coiled tension and muscle blocking the doorway. He was dressed in a simple cream shirt and flexible trousers, boots polished clean. A knife dangled from his belt and she idly wondered how quick she'd have to be to steal it. Tyrin shifted subtly on the balls of his feet. A warning.