Tainted

Chapter Forty

Rogue breaths an audible sigh of relief.

The sound stings in a way I wasn't expecting.

"That happens after Seftis's brew," he says.

"Mhmm." I don't have anything to add, so I quickly stand, intending to walk away, but the motion makes my head spin.

Rogue's at my side in an instant, his hands lightly steadying me.

"Thanks," I say curtly, "but I can take care of myself." I turn and walk away toward Tanymede's tent. I have to return her dress.

Every step sends another pounding blast through my brain. I hate Frapa. I hate Glitter Gulp. I hate bread.

This last revelation is the worst, but it's the taste I remember more before throwing up.

Tanymede's pacing back and forth in front of the tent's entrance. When she sees me approaching, she runs toward me and catches me around the arm.

"What did you do?" she asks. A fleck of spit flies out from her tongue.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I stammer. Dread pools in the pit of my stomach. Did I do something else last night? Something I don't remember?

Tanymede's fingers cinch tighter on my arm. I can feel tears of pain welling behind my eyes, but I don't twist out of her grip.

"Why? Mira, why would you volunteer to go on Rogue's foolhardy mission to the prison?"

Oh. That.

"Because I have to do something to help," I say. "All I've done is hurt people. I need to do something that's the opposite of that."

Tanymede stares unblinkingly at me. Her expression is so rigid, I can't read a single emotion from her skin.

"I wish you hadn't," she says finally, defeated.

I shake loose from Tanymede's grip. My arm feels numb where she held it.

"Why?" I ask.

"Sani was like you," Tanymede says softly. "She was kind and beautiful and laughed like the world would never end. But no one saw that side of her. They just saw the word on her skin and felt that she was theirs to take.

"She wanted to save the world, but the world killed her. When I look at her now, I don't know who's looking back. But it's not Sani. It's not my sister." Tanymede's voice is rough. She pauses and closes her eyes.

I wonder if she's reliving a memory that's no longer there.

"I don't want the same to happen to you," Tanymede says.

I'm touched. Her care is unexpectedly kind, and I don't know what to say.

"It won't," I say, trying to convince her. "I'll keep myself safe."

Tanymede sniffs. "Then you'll need these." She disappears inside her personal tent. I hear her footsteps weaving between furniture. She pauses, picks something up, and wends her way back outside. In her outstretched palm are twin obsidian blades. They gleam like beetle's backs and seem sharp enough to slice a single strand of hair. Beneath each blade is a mahogany hilt stained a deep red, eerily close to the color of blood.

The knives are breath-taking.

"Take these," Tanymede says roughly.

"Oh Tanymede, I can't."

She fits them into the sheaths on either side of the knife belt. "I want you to have them," she says. "Besides, it would break my heart to see dinnerware shoved into this gorgeous knife belt. It needs proper blades."