Page 91 of Fires of the Forsaken
“Bug guts,” Kaelan chuckled.
“Har, har.”
“Addie, take a breath,” Cheriour said, although he wasn’t looking at me anymore. His eyes roamed over the others as they completed their exercises. “I'll talk to Quinn about mending your ankle. Do you need healing, Kaelan?”
“I’m fine.” Kaelan rubbed at his temple. “I’m alright, Addie. Honest.”
And he seemed to be telling the truth. His eyes were clear. He wasn’t wobbling or slurring his words.
I should have been relieved.
I’d done something right. For once. And I hadn’t hurt Kaelan. All was good.
But...
Across the field, Quinn tilted his head, leveling me with an indecipherable look. It wasn’t mean, or smug, or disappointed…oranything.Just a long, blank stare. But it left me feeling cold.
26
Mustard Mill
“I’m sorry…what?” I gaped at Cheriour as he leaned against my bedroom doorway.
“You’re coming with us,” he repeated calmly, even as his right fist twitched against his thigh.
“Coming with you?”
“Yes.”
“To-to fight the monsters—”
“Wraiths.”
“—attacking Sinadrin?” It felt like someone had stuffed a wad of cotton down my gullet.
“Sanadrin,” Cheriour corrected. “But yes. You are to ride with us. When you return, Quinn will allow you to stay, and he’ll remove all restrictions.” He glanced at the sallow-faced man who was acting as my guard for the day.
“IfI return,” I said.“If—as in, what’s the likelihood of me dying? Fifty percent? Seventy? One hundred?” I raked my fingers through my hair as fear bubbled inside my chest. “What the fuck? Seriously!What. The. Fuck? I got one lucky shot during yesterday’s training, and you lunatics think I’m ready to fight at Helm’s Deep?”
“I don’t—”
“You know what—no. Don’t say anything.” I paced, shaking my hands, pulling at my hair, doing anything,anythingto ward off the terror that sizzled through my veins. “I’ve gone along with all this shit so far,” I hissed. “With your stupid training, and dirty bacteria baths, and shit food. And I’vetriedto limit my complaining. I really have. But now you want me to—no. Nope.Hellno.”
“Addie—”
“No! I’m not going with you.”
“Addie.” His voice dropped. A warning. One I blew right past.
“Fuck you!” I cried. My brain kept flashing between different images: the Wraith who had wanted to mow down on me when I first arrived. The field I’d woken up in, and the sheer number of corpses. And battles I’d seen in movies and TV—that scene inBraveheartwhere William Wallace took an arrow to the chest was hitting differently now.
Cheriour grabbed my arm to stop my pacing. His grip was gentle but unyielding. I tried to jerk away. He held fast. “Let go!”My voice sounded funny. High pitched. Wobbly.
“Be still, Addie. Listen to me,” he hissed when I tried to pull away again. “An attack is imminent. And many of Sanadrin’s soldiers are still assisting Jabbart. Wemusthelp them. If Sanadrin falls, the rest of Victarion will follow.”
My throat constricted. Spasmed. What could I even say to that? “I’m sorry this world is falling apart. But…Ican’thelp you!Whyam I getting dragged into this?”
Which was (apparently) exactly what I said out loud.
