Neither of us moved. Instead, we simply stared at the flap of leather, knowing what our next decision would set in motion.
“Are you prepared?” I asked, stroking my hand down Solace’s back. She stepped toward the hut, shrugging out of my comfort. My hand hung in the air for a moment before I fisted it at my side.
Aloof. Closed off. Haughty. All words to describe my sister. Though, at this moment, I could tell she was in pain. What she had to do in order to set our well-laid plans in motion would not be easy on her, and I didn’t envy her position.
With a gentle sigh, Solace extended one thin arm and gently pushed back the leather flap before entering the hut. I rolled my neck, hearing satisfying pops, before releasing my own huff and following her inside.
Chapter 9
Solace
The first thing I noticed about the tent was the smell.
Oh, stars, the smell.
I held my breath in my lungs, hoping it would alleviate the stench that coated the inside of my nose. My eyes watered as I fought the urge to gag. Kaos lost that particular battle, if the sounds of dry heaving behind me were any indicator.
I closed my eyes, the darkness of the tent suddenly complete, while I desperately attempted to block the noises of my brother.
“Can youstopthat?” I hissed at him through my teeth, still not daring to inhale through my nose.
“I . . . can’t . . . help . . . it!” Each word was punctuated by a retching noise, his words and breath labored as if he had just run for miles rather than walked the few hundred yards that made up the main road in the camp.
Slowly, my senses adjusted to the rankness that permeated the small space, and I wiggled the fingers on my hands as I continually fought the urge to be sick.
In and out. Shallow breaths. Focus on something other than that smell.
I opened my eyes after a few moments, forcing myself to find the source, or sources, of that gods-awful odor. At first, nothing immediately jumped out, but slowly, aided by the minimal light that filtered through the cracks between the leather flap and the door frame, the picture of filth became clearer.
There was a chamber pot in the far corner of the hut, furthest from the door, shrouded in darkness. But the glint of sunlight showed that it was overfilling, flies and maggots drawn to whatever was left inside.
“Kaos, open the flap. Or detach it,” I called to my brother.
“Gladly,” he muttered and, moments later, light—and blessed hot, fresh air—flooded the small space. What I saw made my heart briefly clench in pity even while I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
Half-eaten meals were left to rot and mold on plates scattered haphazardly around the hut. All manner of bugs and creatures were drawn to the leftovers, some so covered in maggots that I couldn’t decipher the food beneath the wriggling white mass.
Kaos, clearly seeing the same things I was, heaved again. The sounds of his hacking nearly emptied my own stomach.
But neither of those horrifying discoveries was the sole perpetrator in the cause of the horrendous smell.
Directly across from the door was a bed. Even with the light streaming in from the now missing door flap, I could barely make out a body-sized lump in the middle of the bed. Despite the extreme heat, the form was covered in furs.
I took cautious steps toward the lump, trying to assess for signs of life, but I couldn’t ascertain even the rhythmic inhale that would denote breathing. I delicately placed my hand on what I assumed was the shoulder of the person in bed and faintly felt a shudder ripple through the pile of furs.
“Solace,” they rasped from somewhere deep within the covers. “You came.”
I will always come, daughter.My voice reverberated through my mind and into that of my last remaining descendant. Her broken whimper was the only confirmation I received that she even heard me.
“She’s dying,” Kaos intoned with little inflection as I rose from her bedside.
The smell was worse by the covers, and it was clear that care for my descendant had been severely lacking lately. The scents of sweat, urine, excrement, and sorrow were woven into the very fibers of the furs. It was a miracle she hadn’t died from her own stench.
“Yes,” I said simply, not removing my eyes from the form of the Last Keeper.
I strode wordlessly from the tent, not bothering to see if Kaos would follow, but knowing he would.
Like a lost puppy.
