Page 139 of Embers of Ruin

The answer, unfortunately, isn’t long.

I close my eyes and lean my head against the cool glass behind me. Somewhere beyond these walls, life continues without me. Training still happens in the courtyard. The Sacred Gardens are probably growing thanks to my touch. Thorin is…

I stop the thought before it can finish.

It’s becoming a dangerous habit, thinking about him. I shouldn’t miss him. I certainly shouldn’t find myself wishing he would stride through these halls with that infuriating confidence of his and tell me everything will be fine—that I’ve always been protected. It’s absurd, really. He spent weeks trying to break down every wall I’d built around myself after dragging me halfway across the continent against my will. But for all his secrets, riddles and infuriating arrogance, his intentions never felt sinister.

I never truly feared Thorin. The Rebellion, though…

I fear them.

And unlike when I was with Thorin, I have no magic to protect myself.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls me from my thoughts. I sit up as a young woman rounds the corner carrying a wooden tray. She’s close to my age, with dark hair braided over one shoulder, freckles scattered across her nose, and a thin scar cutting through one eyebrow. She doesn’t carry herself like a soldier. There’s no armor, no weapon at her hip. She looks...ordinary.

She sets the tray beside the cage before lowering herself to the floor across from me, crossing her legs as though we’ve done this before.

We stare at one another for several moments. Finally, she sighs.

“You look terrible.”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. My voice is rough from disuse.

“I was going to say the same thing about you, but it seemed rude.”

One corner of her mouth lifts. “Fair enough.”

Silence settles between us again, though it feels less hostile than before. She glances down the corridor, making certain we’re alone before lowering her voice.

“We didn't bring you here to hurt you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Really? Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve all done an excellent job. Mind games really are an excellent form of torture.”

She accepts the sarcasm without reacting. “We brought you here because you’re important.”

“Ahhh, there it is,” I mutter. “The sentence I was hoping not to hear. I don’t want to be important to anyone.” I rake a hand through my mass of unruly curls, wincing when my fingers snag on a knot. “Life was significantly less complicated when I was just an ordinary healer.”

Her expression softens just enough to make me suspicious.

“You don’t know what’s happening, do you?”

“If I did, I probably wouldn’t be asking so many questions."

She nods slowly, as though that confirms something for her. “For what it’s worth...most of us don’t think you’re the enemy.”

My stomach knots, and anger flares. “Then why am I in a cage?”

“Because the Rebellion needs you. And…people are afraid.”

“Of me?”

She hesitates, her gaze dropping to the floor. “They’re afraid of what your existence means.”

That isn’t an answer. Or maybe it is. I study her face, looking for any sign she’s lying, but all I find is exhaustion.

“What exactly do you think I am?”

She shakes her head. “I honestly don't know. But they do, and we need you.”