A Deadly Bite

1.1 || Useless

Everything tastes of death.

The thought wraps around my neck like a noose, jerking me from the depths of sleep. I inhale sharply, and that familiar sensation lodges in my throat, clogs my lungs. Squeezing my eyes shut, I lean back, sucking in another breath in an attempt to calm the skitter of my heartbeat.

Bark. There's bark at my back, the gnarled shape of a tree trunk. Not the scratched stone of a cell. Not the shaded interior of a tent, either.

A shudder writhes through me, coiling into an ache that yawns deep in my chest. The scent of death isn't fading. It wraps around my torso in a weighted blanket, sticking to my skin in a cold sweat. My neck stings with the ghost of a blade at my throat. I clutch at my heart, half expecting to find a sword lodged there, stealing my life away.

No. It broke free. It shattered, a thousand shards, each marked in a deadly black.

"Monster."

My nails dig into my sides, failing to scrape at skin beneath through the thin leather that shapes my gloves. "No," I whisper, hardly hearing the word. "No. My name is Nathaniel." The statement isn't any less a lie than it has always been, but it's become something of a morning ritual, a firm plinth on which to root myself and draw the line between dreams and reality. Past and present.

It pains me to think that these nightmares are now a routine occurrence. It isn't always the same memory, yet Edita's dying gasp always lurks at the edge of my unconscious, seeking for the right moment to pounce. Edita, Tyler, Camdyn. Oswin. The names circle my head, each a knife to deepen the ache in my chest.

My flame can't harm others as it did then. Its killing touch is no longer active, not with the silver-lined gloves that enclose my hands, trapped in place by metal binds. I'm safe now. I grit my teeth, forcing the clinging grip of death to retreat.

Safe. Trapped. The two still intertwine, as different as my life has become.

With more effort than it should take, I wrench open my eyes. It's dark. The sky hadn't yet turned when I drifted off. Or perhaps it was just turning, the sun setting, the clouds lit in a haze of fiery amber. Sarielle doesn't like the idea that I've missed so many sunsets in my years spent in Polevis's castle cell. We watch every one we can, now, together.

Sarielle. Wakefulness sings like lightning into my veins, jolting me to my feet. Last I remember, she was sitting beside me, my head laid on her shoulder. She is absent now.

Spinning, I sweep the camp, the pale shapes of tents like ghosts drowned in darkness, searching for a spark of light amongst them. If she retired early, someone else should have taken her watch. But all is dark. The night is empty.

Until I hear the clash of blades.

Hand flying to the hilt of my dagger, I take off running, boots skidding over the muddy ground as I traverse the upward slope. Every step is unsteady enough to send me flying over, but somehow I manage to maintain my balance enough to clamber to the crest of the hill, ducking behind the rocks that spill from the mountainside towering above. The sounds of battle are in full swing now. Bracing myself, I peer through a crack in the rock.

There aren't many figures in the dip below. I pick out Sarielle immediately. It's clear she's been taken by surprise; her golden hair is loose, and her white tunic is covered by no armour. Her cutlass tangles with the twin blades of a darker shape, his navy form almost blending into the night.

Neyaibet. I draw back, breath caught in my throat.

Dalton is there too, dressed in matching white, along with another soldier I can't identify in the dark. Pushing through the claws of fear crawling over my skin, I steal another glance through the gap. There's at least three navy-clad soldiers. More could be hiding in the gloom. I press my back to the rock, vulnerability squirming in my stomach.