Page 61 of The Eyes of Tamburah
“But…the floor invited me.”
“I’ll pass along your regrets,” he said dryly.
Cradled against his warm muscular chest, Shyla felt safe, which was a sure sign of her utter exhaustion. At least Rendor hadn’t tried to kill her. Yet. She lasted about two steps before she fell asleep, rousing briefly when he laid her on a cushion.
“The captain certainly has a way with women,” one of the guards teased.
“Shut up,” Rendor growled.
* * *
The snap of a lock woke Shyla. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she peered at her surroundings. She was alone. A couple violet-hued druks hung from the walls, revealing that she wasn’t in one of the Water Prince’s lavish chambers. Utilitarian and neat, it was three times the size of her room. Everything was bigger than her room, why did she insist on comparing spaces to it? A desk and a number of low tables occupied the main space—probably an office. Rendor’s? Figured he’d have a sleeping cushion. He seemed the type to work late. The sand clock read angle three-forty-eight, only twelve more angles until the sun started its jump.
She sat up. Her entire body ached. A bandage was wrapped tightly around her chest. Underneath it pain burned. She rubbed a purpling bruise on her right shoulder, and remembered Jayden’s solid punch. Blood stained her clothes. Both her elbows and knees were scuffed. As she’d suspected, the stitches on her leg had pulled apart. Each new discovery increased her pain, so she stopped her inspection.
Instead, she found her pack lying next to her. Rummaging through its contents, she located the vial. It was intact. One less worry. Water sloshed in the skin so she took a long drink, then chewed on a roll of jerky.
The meal revived her enough to attempt to stand. Her leg muscles protested the motion. Groaning, she clambered to her feet. The floor remained steady underneath her. Progress. After that she confirmed that the door was indeed locked. Whether to protect her or detain her, she’d no clue. Wiped out by even that small effort, Shyla returned to the cushion.
What was she going to tell Rendor? She rubbed her left wrist. Would he even believe her? One thing she did know. She wasn’t going to reveal the location of the communes to him. Dyani’s lifeless eyes stared at her, reminding her that children lived there. And what about Jayden, the Vagrant Prince? She grunted. That title suited him. She still couldn’t believe he was going to kill her! To be fair, it was only after he believed she was spying for the Water Prince. Jayden did rescue her from the deacons. Guess she would call them even and hope to never encounter the man again. And if she did? She wouldn’t pull her punches next time.
While waiting for Rendor to return, she considered how much to share with the captain. Sometime… later…metal rattled, rousing her from a light doze. Rendor appeared, carrying a tray of steaming eggs. She sat up. Was that tea? Timin followed Rendor into the room and she bit back a groan. It was angle zero.
“Are you purposely trying to kill yourself, or are you justthatlucky?” Timin asked with a hefty dose of sarcasm. He carried a leather satchel.
“Nice to see you, too,” she shot back.
“I’m sure. Now, lie down and let me take a look.”
With a sigh, she reclined on the cushion. As Timin rummaged in his bag, Rendor set the tray on one of the tables. He leaned against the edge and crossed his massive arms. His scowl was fixed firmly in place and his hard gaze promised no mercy. But he brought food. Shyla focused on that as Timin cleaned her wounds—which covered most of her body—and inspected the damage underneath the bandage and on her thigh.
“Someone stitched up this knife wound. An expert job, until you managed to rip them all out,” Timin said. He tsked over the slice on her torso and the bruise on her face. Then he rubbed the numbing paste on her torso and thigh, repaired the damage, and covered her new stitches with clean bandages. When he finished, he said, “Try not to get into any more trouble.” He stared at her. “At least for a couple sun jumps.”
“No promises.”
Timin shook his head. “She’s all yours, Captain. Try not to upset her, she needs to rest.”
“No promises,” Rendor said.
She stilled—that didn’t bode well for her future.
“I don’t know why I bother,” Timin said as he left.
Rendor straightened and tilted his head at the tray. “Eat.”
Although her appetite had soured, once she tasted the velbloud eggs, she dove in and cleaned the plate. The ginger tea warmed her and she clutched the cup for strength. Rendor remained standing. Almost looming—no, definitely looming in his I’m-big-and-bad-and-you-will-tell-me-everything stance.
Before he could start, she asked, “Did you stop torturing those people?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Yes, it is. They were—”
“I’d worry more about yourself right now,” he said. “You were missing for four sun jumps. The Water Prince is livid.”
Four! That was… Wow. “Banqui?”
“Still alive. For now.” The threat was clear. “Start explaining, Shyla.”
