Hierarchy (Book Four of the Torrent Skies Saga)

Chapter Five: Good Intentions

The spell of teleportation left Katerin so drained that she could hardly keep her eyes open as she made her way back to the manor. Lugaria and Agrata escorted her to the gates, and Corbin was speechless as he looked her over on the way to the door.

Before Katerin could open it and slink out of sight, Fykes was in the doorway, his eyes filled with horror.

She braced, expecting him to shout or curse her, but he only wrapped her in a gentle embrace, his hands shaking as he pulled her close to his chest.

"Where did you go?" he asked, his voice near to cracking. "Brazen has been in a fit..."

"I need some clean clothes," she said, fighting back the urge to cry and leaving her voice as cold as possible. It seemed all the hurt she felt welled up as soon as his arms greeted her. "Then we'll talk."

She left Fykes on the doorstep, paying no attention to his questions, or Lugaria and Agrata's answers. Fykes would ask where and how they had found her, and they would tell him all they knew. But they could not tell him of the knife in Mordai's eye or of how Kryrial left the cabin barely scratched.

They could not tell him of loss and fury, nor could she.

Her and Fykes' bedroom was much as it always was. An organized mess. With a struggle she hated to admit even to herself, she tossed her ruined clothes aside and settled for a robe she did not have to fight to put on. She sat at her vanity and blinked. Seeing her face in the small mirror was shocking. The blood Agrata had cleaned away revealed swollen cuts, dark bruises, and wrinkled burns.

The stark contrast of the Mark of the Storm Barer on her cheekbones was dimmed where her face was purple and blistered. Her hair was a mess. What had once been long, elegant and wavy, was now a jagged nightmare of black. No two hairs were the same length, and the back was the shortest of it all. She had never thought of her hair too much, but now she held her comb for a long moment, before giving up the notion to weep.

Pain was a constant. There was nothing she could do to escape it. Though, she knew she was okay. Lugaria and Agrata had done enough to leave no threat to her life, but it did not change the fact of how useless she felt. How weak. When she closed her eyes, she remembered Kryrial gripping her face, and she remembered the look in his eyes. It still chilled her.

What had she been thinking, going to the cabin? She never could have saved him, for that had never been within her ability. Looking back it was obvious that Kryrial would be there and obvious that he had so easily bested her. What stung was how obvious it became that he only injured her enough to prove a point.

She was not enough. Not against him.

Not enough. The thought stuck around like the smell of a rotten egg, and only when a knock echoed on her door, did she pull herself from the dark upset it caused.

"I'm a little busy," she said, doing her best to emulate Sulea's composure, and dry the tears on her face. She hoped whoever it was might leave.

Graiden stepped in, for once not wearing any kind of uniform. His eyes were downcast. "Katerin, I know you may not be feeling like company, but you're injured."

"Graiden," she said, surprised. "I'm fine. I'll—" Before she could react, he was sitting on the floor beside her, with one hand on her uninjured shoulder and all the concern of the world in his eyes.

She could only blink at the outpouring of kindness. "I—" She began. But she could not speak. There was no way to voice the things she wanted to say.

Graiden shook his head. "You don't need to tell me." He patted her shoulder. "I'm just glad you're alive. Can I stay?"

His question was voiced gently. Katerin gulped, but nodded.