Page 61 of Flames and Blood

“It does.”

“You should have a different coat.”

“I’ll get one.”

“Are you real?” she says, a while later. “Because I’ve had you in my head for days and my head lies to me now.”

“I’m real.”

“That’s what my head would say.”

“Then pinch me.”

She thinks about that seriously for a few seconds. Then she pinches the back of my hand, hard, with what strength she has.

“You didn’t flinch.”

“No.”

“Nothing flinches anymore,” she says. “Maybe I should pinch myself.”

“Don’t.”

Ten minutes later, from under the blanket: “I flew around the whole valley. Did you know that? Top to bottom. You can’t get out anywhere. I hit the top three times, and it hurt every time. I did it anyway, and there was nobody up there to tell about it.”

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m telling you now.” She’s quiet for a bit. Then, in a completely different voice, flat and clear: “They put stuff in my mouth. Two men held my head.”

I don’t say anything.

“I got my nails into one of them.” She sounds pleased. “I took a piece of his cheek. I fought them. I’m telling you, and you have to remember it for me, because I’m not going to remember any of tonight.”

“I’ll remember it.”

“Say it back.”

“You got your nails into one of them and took a piece of his cheek.”

“Good.” She turns her face into my coat. “That’s the good part. Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t.”

“Everyone loses things.” Her voice is going. “They took a whole year from me and—” She stops, mouth opening and then closing again, the thought lost.

“Tell me the rest of it tomorrow,” I tell her.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Kent looks over from the end of the wall. I look at him until he looks away again.

Deep in the night, hours before dawn, the gatehouse light changes and the barrier goes up.