Like fire we burn

Chapter eight

Shadow

She paused at that word, one hand on the handle and the other pressed against the wood. Tyrin was striding for the Keep again, any trace of the disgust in his tone having vanished. It wouldn't do to terrify his future soldiers.                                           

She knew his name; knew his position in the Royal army. She knew exactly what would happen if he were to disappear. She'd planned it all out.                                   

The cabin was still as cold as when she left it. The chill made her joints ache like a woman four times her age. Aodhan had taken the letter she'd hidden under her pillow and was hopefully on his way back with a reply. She spent the hours bathing and taking stock of the cabin – sparse and unused as it was. None of her clothes had been taken or searched through, but her weapons were nowhere to be seen. She'd have to remedy that. There was still a slim dagger under the mattress, and although she'd hidden it, she'd bet good money he knew it was there. So why had he left it? Was it a test? Or did he not think she would dare use it?                                               

Was it an invitation to try?                                       

Just as she tugged on another pair of socks, a knock sounded at her door. She hopped her way over with a low growl and turned the various locks she'd installed. The luxury of having the ability to lock the door was an unfamiliar pleasure. Livia stood outside, in nought but a dark green dress and a pair of sandals. Her glossy parrot-green wings were folded neatly behind her, the apexes draped with copper chain. A bowl of steaming stew and bread lay like an offering in her hands. Despite the late hour, and the bone-weary exhaustion, Shadow stepped to the side to let her in.                       

"You didn't appear for dinner, and considering you lost so much blood—" She held the bowl up towards Shadow and smiled.                                        

"Why would you do that?"                                       

"I know," She said simply. "I know who you are, but it doesn't faze me. You seem nice enough and no one else will talk with a mere metal-weaver." Livia made herself comfortable on the bed and patted the blankets in invitation. Shadow stood with her mouth hanging open unattractively. Getting over herself, she joined Livia on the bed and pulled the plate towards her.                           

"You shouldn't be here with me," She said quietly. "It will ruin you."                   

"I need to check your bandages again after you've eaten," Was all Livia replied. Shadow wolfed down the food without tasting it, eliciting a laugh from the entirely too-comfortable female next to her.       

"I've been injured enough times to have figured out how to bandage my back."       

She was pushing, waiting for Livia to reveal the real reason she had come. No one willingly came near her once they knew who she was.                                    

Livia cocked her head to the side, the metal lining her ears catching the light of the fire.
"Nevertheless, I want to help."                                           

"Why?" The honesty in her gaze startled her.                            

Livia's brows drew together, the freckles dotting her brown skin folding in on themselves. "Stories are made exciting in the twisting of the tale. Yours has been told a hundred times, but not by you." She shrugged, frown melting. "I'm curious and lonely and bored. Indulge me."