Page 24 of Adtovar
“He’s resting,” I snapped, coming to stand in the doorway, barring Bozzo’s entrance with my best glare.
“I heard he was injured... bleeding.” Bozzo’s beady eyes narrowed, and his skin slicked with goo.
“He got cut,” I admitted. There was no use denying it. Everyone had noticed the blood. No doubt, the guards who carried Adtovar to his cell reported the seriousness of the injury. “It was shallow, though, a couple of stitches, and he’s as good as new.” I lied smoothly.
“I would like to see. Wake him up.” Bozzo ordered, taking a step into the room.
“No.” I held my hand up, placing it on a roll of flesh in his chest area and flinching from the sensation. It felt like touching warm Jello covered in crude oil. “He needs to rest,” I insisted.
A growl rumbled from Bozzo’s lips, although the sound was more like a gassy kitten than anything threatening. “Wake him.”
I didn’t budge. “Adtovar is your guest, isn’t he? Not one of your slaves that you can boss around. He might not appreciate being woken.” I moved closer to Bozzo, breathing through my mouth to escape his fetid scent. “And I certainly won’t be happy.”
I raised a finger, tapping the end to a blob of flesh that sufficed for his nose. “And we’ve gotten along so well lately. You wouldn’t want to do anything to make things... explosive.” My grin was sly. I knew how to make gunpowder now.
“Fine,” Bozzo hissed, taking a full step back, his turd-colored flesh paling. “But I expect him to fight ready tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is resting day,” Emmiait crooned in a sing-song voice. She was right. Thankfully, there would be no fights tomorrow. Adtovar could heal.
Bozzo attempted to growl again. A louder noise, not anywhere near threatening. Fric turned his head to hide a grin.
“He’s going to lose, you know,” Bozzo grinned at me, brownish teeth that looked like they belonged to a baby shark flashing.
“I’ll put my money on Adtovar.” I lifted my chin defiantly and intensified my glare. “And my magic.”
Bozzo blanched and gave me one last pathetic attempt at a stink eye before turning on his heel.
“Do you think he’ll be back?” Meeka asked, when the sound of footsteps finally dissipated.
“No,” Sureeta snorted. “He’s afraid of Maddie.”
“Let’s hope, “I sighed, sinking into the lone chair. It felt even more rickety than the one in my cell.
“Why don’t you go get some rest?” Kysia suggested. “We’ll take turns staying with Adtovar.”
I appreciated the offer, but the idea of leaving Adtovar’s side was as impossible to me as breathing water.
“Thank you.” I grabbed her hand, giving a squeeze. “I’m so grateful for your help... for all of you. But I think I better stay in case his wound opens up. He might need another application of gunpowder.”
“Then I better leave this here,” Emmiait said, laying her precious firestick on the bedside table.
“Thank you,” I caught her gaze, hoping she noticed my deep gratitude. I knew how much her gesture meant.
I let my gaze flicker over each precious face. “It’s almost dinnertime. Why don’t you all go get something to eat?”
Not a single female moved.
“Plus, you can take the opportunity to make everyone believe Adtovar isn’t that badly injured.”
The idea of planting gossip seemed to motivate them.
“You are sure you don’t want us to stay?” Lafalia moved closer to my side. “I will sit with you if you like.”
“You’re still healing.” I patted her cheek. “You need food and rest, too.”
“I’ll check on you later,” Sureeta promised, herding the others toward the door.
It took a couple of minutes for their footsteps to fade, as though they walked slowly, expecting to hear me calling them back at any moment.
