Page 76 of Fires of the Forsaken
And, boy, did I feel like a used-and-abused piece of sparring equipment. My skin had turned almost the same shade as my eyes (the apparent source of Quinn’s wrath). I wascoveredin bruises. A heavy layer of gooey, seeping blisters coated my palms. They stung when I sweated. Throbbed whenever I tried to hold something. And ached the rest of the time. The big toenail on my left foot had turned black and was about ready to fall off, the result of me dropping my weapon on my toes.Repeatedly.Pretty sure I had a couple of broken toes too.
I was a hot mess.
But thank GodQuinn always Mind-Melded the concussions away. He didn’t dare let a head injury leave me dazed—that might’ve dulled some of the pain.
I pressed my forehead against the windowsill, watching as the sun rose over the trees in the distance. If only I could be like Rapunzel. And have magical glowing hair long enough to double as a rope. I’d use it to climb to freedom and—
And…what?
Assuming Quinn’s lackeys didn’t hunt me down, and I got out of the city, where would I go? To the woods? I’d be dead in a week. Or less.
It was a fate I’d be facing soon enough, anyway. Once Quinn booted me out of Niall.
I jolted when my bedroom door swung open.
Judging by the softthumpingto my right, the sudden movement had scared my guard too. And, well, she wasn’t exactlyfriendly,but I kind of liked this guard. She was about my age and had a fun laugh…when she wasn’t stuck babysitting me, of course. But I’d seen her staggering back to the castle after a night in the bar many times. And she had the mostgorgeouscomplexion. Clearest skin I’d ever seen. Paired with her chocolate-colored hair…hmm. If I’d been at my workstation at the salon, I could’ve had this woman ready to dazzle on the red carpet in less than an hour.
I missed my job. So freaking much.
“Are you listening?”
I blinked because—holy shit—Cheriour was standing right in front of me.
The hell had he come from?
Maybe Quinn hadn’t fully magicked away my last concussion. Either that or I was sleep-deprived. Probably the latter, since I still hadn’t gotten the nerve to use the ick bed.
“Not really,” I grumbled. “And unless you’ve come here to tell me you’ve got a one-way plane ticket for me to go home, I don’t care.”
He sighed but didn’t rise to the bait. “Quinn has ended your training sessions.”
“Oh good. So he’s kicking me out early?” It was an effort to keep the tremor out of my voice.
“No. With the news of certain events, Quinn needs to focus his attention elsewhere.”
“‘Certain events?’”
“Yes.”
“Care to elaborate on what that means?”
“No.”
“Okay then.” I shrugged.
“I train with a group in the mornings. But, based on what I’ve seen of your sessions with Quinn—”
“Oh, you mean the hour a day he spends beating the snot outta me?”
“—you aren’t ready to join my group,” Cheriour continued. “Therefore, I will give you a private session this afternoon.”
“Cool. So are you gonna teach? Or use it as an excuse to batter me around?”
Cheriour propped a hand on his hip. “Quinn…is fighting his own demons. And is too proud to admit his judgment is skewed. I’m sorry.” He said this on a long, tired sigh. And I wondered, maybe foolishly, if he’d spent the last two weeks arguing against Quinn on my behalf. Because he looked almost as exhausted as I felt. “You’ll not receive the same treatment from me,” Cheriour said. “But if you’re not willing to learn, I won’t waste my time.”
Relief crashed into me so hard, I almost slid right off my throne. I could’ve hugged him then. My savior. And a fucking saint.
Instead, I gave him a thumbs-up…
