The Kingdom of Deception

Chapter 13

Amara was jolted awake in her cot when the conscripts flooded the dormitory later that evening.

"How are you feeling?" Katara sat on the foot of her bed. She grunted as she sat up.

"Healing, I guess," she offered a weak smile. "What happened to you?" She caught a glimpse of a slice on her arm.

"Fallon got me with a sword during sparring," she told her.

"They let you spar with sharpened weapons?" She was exasperated.

"We wore armor but it got through," she shrugged.

"At least I have that to look forward to next weekend," she responded sarcastically.

Juliet and Eros leaned on the railing for the top bunk of her bed, wanting to check on her as well. Avren remained distant.

"I appreciate the concern, but I don't want to talk about it," she finally told them after being hammered with questions.

She was finally allowed to eat food which their Praeceptor brought to the dormitory. Eyes followed him as he walked over to hand deliver her dinner. They didn't exchange words, they barely even looked at one another. She noticed that his knuckles were dark and swollen but he jerked his hands away from the tray and left.

Her stomach was in excruciating pain both from hunger and the stitches. She shoveled the food into her mouth before accompanying it with the pain medication she was given.

Eventually she found herself before her reflection in the washroom. She stared downward, not wanting to really look at herself. She was afraid of what she would see.

Slowly she raised her head, first noticing the stitches over her cheek. She was pale and appeared utterly worn down. Her hair was matted and when she raised her hands to fix it she paused to stare at the wrapped hand that had been mutilated. Somehow it didn't hurt as bad as her abdomen but it didn't feel great. She tried to move her fingers but couldn't. She dropped her hand in defeat.

She dreaded having to relieve herself, even if just to pee. The stitches inside of her were so unbelievably painful. She found herself crying as she sat on the toilet. She was thankful that the rest of the conscripts were sleeping and that she had the shared washroom to herself.

She examined her stitches in her abdomen, her entire stomach was swollen and heated. She couldn't even touch the skin.

"Meet me in the watchtower," came Cathmore's voice in her mind. She sniffled and wiped her tears.

"Why am I here?" She demanded. She found him watching the horizon, his back to the entrance she just pushed through.

"Why are you here?" He countered, not even looking back at her.

"What happened to your hands?" She pushed. He dropped his head slightly to examine them. The knuckles were dark and bleeding.

"Nothing," he reassured.

She was just about to scoff when she was briefly distracted by a shooting star dancing across the sky, he caught it too. She had never seen one and she scanned the sky for another.

"Fine," she resolved herself to his need to be broody and secretive. She turned to leave, still unclear as to why he told her to meet him.

"I need to explain the concept of a silent pardon," he spoke coldly, freezing her at the top of the stairs.

"Okay?" She turned slowly. "Tell me what you did first," she gestured at his hands.

"I went to see the pig-man. I intended to kill him," he mumbled. "I settled instead on bashing his face in and having him thrown into a human prison."