A Deadly Bite

5 || White Falcon

It's a miracle Fiesi doesn't react as I stumble through our room's door, sweating and panting, the hinges creaking in my trembling grip. He's more still than he was earlier, sprawled under the sheets. Perhaps he finally managed to burrow his way into sleep.

I have no such luck. Practically collapsing to the floorboards, I curl into a tight ball, making a feeble attempt to shut my eyes.

All that waits behind them is her face. Her wide, lifeless eyes. Her ghostly skin. I bite down on my lip, tasting blood, desperate to hold back the broken whimper that builds in my throat. I won't cry. It's useless.

The stinging scent of death clogs my throat in place of tears, leaked like smoke from the burned image of Edita. All I can do is screw my eyes shut and pray it doesn't choke me.

There's no way of knowing if I ever succeed in falling asleep. It feels like an age later when a knock on the door finally jolts through my suffocating silence.

Lifting my head, I scrub at my eyes, hoping my tears have dried by now. "Yes?" The break in my voice makes me wince.

The door cracks open to reveal Sarielle, the faded lantern light slanting her face in striped shadow. Her eyes are dimmed to a dusty grey-blue. "Hey," she says softly, one corner of her mouth lifting. "I see Fiesi hogged the bed."

I shift upright, rolling the stiffness from my shoulders. "I let him."

"Of course you did." With a sigh, she slips through the door and into the room. "Is he awake?"

All I can offer is a shrug. Perhaps I did drift somewhat close to sleep, for my thoughts are bleary, effort needed to tease them apart. My head is heavy, stuffed with cotton. I'm in desperate need of rest as it is, and yet I've squandered the entire night on futile longing and the taunt of ghosts. If only I knew the meaning of the phrases Fiesi uses to curse under his breath.

Sarielle has crossed to the bed, close enough to the lantern that her features brighten in full illumination, and now inspects him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She folds her arms. "He looks rather cute when he's asleep."

"I always knew you secretly admired me, Sarie."

He sounds even less alert than I do, but his voice still drips with satisfied pride. She doesn't let it falter her. As he struggles to sit up amongst his tight nest of sheets, she stretches out a hand, ruffling his hair until he ducks away. "Cute like a little child, Fiesi. You're adorable."

He scoffs, turning his back to her as he swings his legs over the bed's side. "I'm older than you are."

"A child is defined by more than his years."

He huffs, although gaze softens as it lands on me. "Morning, Nathan. You're worth talking to. Did you sleep alright?"

"Yes. Fine." The lie tastes sour on my tongue. I'm glad his attention hasn't fully moved to me.

"Good." He stands, stretching his arms above his head as he throws a glance over his shoulder at Sarielle. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company at this early hour?"

"We're leaving as soon as everyone's ready." She's begun straightening out the sheets, smoothing them out with practised movements. She tucks their ends under the pillow and briefly meets his eyes. "Unfortunately, you're the one we're relying on to lead the way, so I'd be grateful if you could attempt some haste."

He drags a hand through his hair. "Yeah, alright. Give me a few minutes."

It's reluctant compliance, but she accepts it, sweeping from the tidied bed back to the door. She waves a hand to beckon me. "Nathan, do you mind helping me with the horses?"