Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 62 - Leavi

Voices whisper through hazy dreams.

"It's a Kadranian woman."

Snow crunches. Sleep slips gently from my embrace, and I beg it to come back, clinging to the solace it offered.

"Wait. Isn't that the Consort's coat?" A shadow shifts over me. Cold seeps into my pants, but thick fabric warms my arms. "Girl looks half frozen."

"Can't know it's the Consort's just because it looks foreign. Leave her; she's not one of ours."

Consort repeats in my head like a broken gramophone. "Riszev," I moan.

"You sure of that?" someone mocks. The shadow grows darker, closer, and I shiver for the sun. "Keep searching for survivors. I'm taking this one in." Strong arms scoop me up, and the world bobs like a boat on the river. I sink into its depths.

When I emerge, everything is warm and muted. A blanket wraps around me, and downstairs, muffled voices call to each other. My head is thick and fuzzy.

I push my eyes open. The shockingly familiar, peaceful upstairs living room of the infirmary greets me. The cracked door pipes in heat, and a pillow cradles my head. Worn couch cushions give as I shift.

I hiss and fall still. My side hurts, my skull pounds, and my muscles are stiff and sore. The pain brings back flashes of memory—snow and blood, fear and pain, fire and a long, wet crawl across the ground. Riszev's limp, outstretched hand.

I bite back a sob.

"You saved my life." No ears hear my words; somehow that makes the pain deeper. She should be here. She should be musing in the armchair, and any moment, she'll shatter the air with some arbitrary remark. She should be in the tower, observing the battlefield. She should be waiting in her room for me to come brush out her hair.

I cry until sleep overtakes the tears.