The Toxicant Throne (Book 2, The Culled Crown Series)

Chapter 3

The Healers' Tent.

Third Corps, Vayelle.

The nursing shift happened an hour before dawn. The girls were always very quiet as they dressed and left the tent, off to tend to the camp's sick and hurting. They worked in pairs, but one would always return to the tent fifteen minutes before the shift switch to wake up the next two girls. It was fluid and practiced, as if this were something that had been happening forever.

The other girls easily slept through it, but even on the quietest morning, I couldn't. I barely slept as it was and sleeping at night was impossible. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of the dark. It felt like a breathing thing, as if it somehow had mass and could reach out and suffocate me—I was terrified of not being able to breathe.

I dreamt of Larkin and Viera. Of vines that filled my mouth and snaked out of my nose. I would wake up and open my eyes into darkness so deep, it felt like a weight on my chest. I slept in small bursts and lay awake for long stretches. I watched the tent grow lighter, listened as the girls around me slept soundly.

So, when Swara came strolling into the tent to wake the next two healers, and came to my cot instead, I was already awake. I sat up in the small rickety bed and peered through the dark at her. Each flicker of the small lantern in her hand felt like an internal tug on my own flame. It silently sang to the fire in my blood and I wanted, more than anything, to sing back.

Swara kept her voice low, trying not to wake the other girls as she said, "Captain Callahan is outside the tent. He said for you to get dressed. He's got a job for you."

She stepped back to give me space to stand and offered me her hand to help me to my feet. I pushed the thick blankets from my legs and grabbed her cold fingers. Without a word, Swara pulled me to my feet. For a second, we just stood in the darkness looking at each other, still clasping hands.

In the light of the lantern, her eyes looked like molten gold.

I started to pull away but she held my hand firm, her thin fingers digging into my skin so forcefully it hurt. One side of her mouth pulled up in a small, self-satisfied smirk as she deftly rotated our joined hands until mine was palm up—my mark faintly visible in the fiery glow of her lantern.

Swara let go of me quickly and stepped back. I balled my hand into a fist, but it was too late, she'd seen. Her mouth opened and closed, stunned.

Finally, she said, "I thought I saw it last night, but I wasn't sure. And then..." She swallowed and tugged at the apron of her uniform. "I thought Fritz was lying earlier. He tried to tell me but—but I didn't believe him. Damn. You really are goddess-touched."

"Please don't tell anyone."

"They're telling everybody at breakfast. Fritz told me a few hours ago. He was patrolling and he stopped by the medical tent. He told me..." She trailed off and shook her head. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit."

"I'm sorry for not telling all of you. We weren't allowed it."

She eyed me up and down. "And it's true that you're really Benson's sister?"

I nodded.

"Good goddess." She tugged at the end of her braid. "Well, damn."

I chewed my bottom lip. "Swara, is Callahan actually waiting on me or...?"

She nodded and thumbed towards the door. "Yeah. I just—I wanted to see if Fritz was kidding."

"He wasn't."