Page 153 of Daughter of No Worlds

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I shiveredand eyed the two Syrizen across the room through the open curtain. They were on the opposite side of the boat, but I could feel them staring at me, a sensation that was no less uncomfortable due to their lack of eyes. Ascended, they were creepy. I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my bare chest.

“Can you close that, please? I don’t like having an aud—” The rest of the sentence was lost in a clenched hiss between my teeth as Sammerin touched the skin around my wound.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Really? I wasn’t even close.”

Tisaanah drew the curtain closed without looking away from me. “It smells very bad, too” she observed.

Despite myself, a smile twitched at my mouth. Tactful as always. Sometimes I wondered if I should be insulted that I never got any of that saccharine charm that she produced for everyone else, but I’d come to realize that this was really the greater compliment. No counting her dancing steps with me.

“Thanks, Tisaanah.” I glanced at Sammerin, who now stared at the dark patch of my skin with stony concentration. “Whatisit, exactly?”

I still hadn’t been able to figure it out. It definitely wasn’t a burn, but it wasn’t quite a cut either, and it hurt worse than nearly any other injury I’d ever received. That was saying something.

And, embarrassing as it was, Tisaanah was right — it had really started toreek.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Sammerin said. Tisaanah wandered back over to him, concern in her eyes. Concern and a shrouded touch of guilt.

“It’s noth—” I started to say.

And then the whole world went white and my body folded in on itself.

“Mother of bleeding fucking hells!”

It was a solid ten seconds before I could even draw a breath, let alone open my eyes.

“Sorry. It’s better without warning.” When I did, Sammerin was gazing at his hands, rubbing his fingers together. “I needed to feel it.”

“Creative cursing.” Zeryth had pushed aside the fabric and was leaning against a wooden pillar, watching me with lazy curiosity. “You have a way with words, Maxantarius.”

“Fuck you.” I was in too much pain to even wish that I could come up with something more inventive.

“And delivered with such enthusiasm.”

“Don’t you have something better to—”

“This isrot.” Sammerin spoke quietly, focused only on his fingers. Zeryth and I both lapsed into silence.

I glanced at Tisaanah, who stared back at me with wide eyes.

“Rot?” I echoed.

“Rot. Decay.” He shook his head, still staring at his hands, then my wound, perplexed. “I can’t even speak to the flesh. It’s dead.”

“Like an infection?” Tisaanah asked, hesitantly.

“An infected wound will start to decay if left unattended long enough, but this isfarbeyond that. Was it like this from the beginning?”

“It’s gotten worse, but—”

“Was it black like this?”

“Yes.” Tisaanah answered for me. “It looked the same.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Sammerin muttered.

Neither had I.

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