It’s something.
Maybe tomorrow we’ll get to wash up.
“Let me check your cut.” Crimson gives up her vigil at the bars and turns towards me. Despite the early evening and the sun not having set, it’s dark enough to need the candlelight.
She was right about the strange healing. Sure, I’m not leaking blood anymore, but it doesn’t feel good or strong. Like the fibres of my skin haven’t knitted back together, and they’ve only been helped along, still weeping from being severed apart.
Crimson lifts the lamp, and I move my dirty shirt for her inspection.
“It’s not right, Ten. Same as my wrist. They haven’t healed us, not properly.” Her eyes scan my wound, and I tense as I shift up onto my elbows. The pull of the muscle screams along the section of skin Ever nicked. “I’m assuming they can’t heal us like Perrin or the other healers, rather than that they don’t want to help. Otherwise, why try at all?”
There’s no point in answering her. She’s right. And we can’t do anything about it. I’d rather be half healed than still be bleeding.
I sense her frustration gathering like a storm, rolling in and ready to crack. To her credit, she doesn’t strike. “I’m taking the lamp. I refuse to think there isn’t a way out of here.”
“Crim, wait.”
But she’s already gone. Once she’s got a thought or idea in her mind, you can rarely shift her direction.
I spend the time alone to focus on my own energy reserves and try to find the connection between me and Ever. It’s there, a tie, telling me she’s present, but after earlier, and what we attempted with sharing her memories without the bridge of touch to help, it feels like that’s all I can rely on without her being physically nearby.
I drag myself up and stand at the gate to look up at the sky as soon as the sun has dipped beneath the horizon. The light lingers, but I wait as it darkens before my eyes, throwing the outline of the trees into ominous silhouettes. The guard, ever-present and just out of reach, is here as he has been since we were escorted back.
Night comes, and at some point, when I can see Aslendrix in the sky, Crimson returns. The candle is burnt out, and she doesn’t say anything, just lies down on the cot next to mine.
Food and water are delivered in the morning, earlier than we wake, but there is no summons to train—a small mercy. Italso means I can’t check up on Ever. The connection could be stronger today, but I don’t force my thoughts to her.
By mid-morning, Crimson is going out of her mind. With nothing to do, she’s left to dwell on all the choices that led to this. I can feel her emotions, rising and falling just as quickly. We can’t practice or spar in these tight quarters, and neither of us is healed enough or well enough to, either.
So, we wait.
Food. Water. No conversation with the people who drop off our rations. They both wear a necklace, not hidden well enough beneath their clothes, so I assume they’re Kirrian, either given duties here in Nehandun to help and support the people, or rallied by Fenix and those he follows.
We wait.
There’s a white light, a familiar glow as night arrives, reminding me that the full moon will be soon. But as I wait, a shadowy figure slips from the darkness towards the gate locking us away.
“What are you doing here, Kalan?” It’s hard not to recognise his stance and stature.
“I thought I’d come to check in.”
“You sold us out to Fenix,” Crimson accuses, marching right up to the bars. I’ll feel sorry for him the next time she’s loose with him.
“Did you really think I’d be able to walk you right into their camp, grab Ever, and leave?” His laughter is far too loud not to draw attention, but he doesn’t seem fazed.
“So why are you still here?” I don’t need the answer because I already know.
Ever.
“Did you have anything to do with her being upset a few nights ago?”
“How did you…” He narrows his eyes at me, and I just shrug. So, he’s the cause of what I felt. At least, what he said was.
“She didn’t take your talk well, then?”
He bristles then and turns away from us.
“If you’re staying, which side are you on?” Crimson calls.
