Page 94 of Huntress

The back of Elsie’s chair creaked as Saint’s fingers dug into the wood.

“Productive?” Elsie echoed, standing. “They belong to the collective like Saint belongs to me, the only difference is they’re ignorant about their status as slaves in everything but name.”

“Chantraine–” Roz’s eyes darted to Riven, then back to Elsie. “We will continue this discussion another time. Have your squad on the tram by eight tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She picked up the files and walked out the door. Saint came right behind her, followed by the mage.

“Is it usually that intense?” she asked.

“That’s a recent development,” Elsie muttered. “Meet us at the tram station in the morning.”

She ignored the mage’s slightly dejected look as she walked away.

“You remember the way to our room?” She asked, and Saint barely managed to keep an eye-roll contained. “Go back on your own. Have some quiet time to yourself. Shower, read, sleep, whatever you want. I don’t think a demon showing up will be good for Steve’s frame of mind.”

“What about my frame of mind?” His tone was teasing, but the corners of his mouth and his shoulders had tensed at her request. Even with his magic returned, he still didn’t feel safe here.

After dropping him off at her room, Elsie entered the infirmary and got directions to Trisse’s room first. He grinned at her from his bed when she walked in.

“Took you long enough to visit. Where have you been? I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me,” he joked.

“Training with Albright,” she griped. “The beard looks good.”

“If only they’d let me keep it.” He swiped a hand over the stubble and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Elsie sat in the only chair available, across from him.

“We’re being sent out on new missions, so it’s going to be you and Steve for a while. Is there anything you need to help you pass the time?” she asked. Trisse was a mischievous troublemaker when he got bored, but he didn’t look ready to jump out of bed and start a fight.

He sighed, a deep, heavy sigh. “I don’t think they’d appreciate my usual hobbies in here.”

“You’re probably right. But I can get you books, games, cards, or some chunks of wood, then you can become the squad’s first wood carver?” she joked.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“How is it?” Elsie asked, and he lifted his shirt to show her.

The skin was unbroken, but it wasn’t smooth. The muscle underneath was lumpy and knotted, bulging in places. Elsie grimaced.

“How did it get like that?”

“The venom ate away at the tissue, and some of it went necrotic. My body overreacted in its attempt to rebuild the muscle and caused this mess. We don’t all heal as well as you do, Captain,” he said bitterly. “They’re using ultrasound therapy to help break up the scar tissue. It’s working, and I’m regaining my range of motion, but it’s slow going.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that, I’m sick of everyone’s pity. I’m healing, and I’d rather focus on that.”

Elsie nodded. “You’re right. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“My position?” He looked up at her, forehead scrunched up.

“Like I’d give it away to anyone else?” she snorted. “You earned it, and there’s no one hard-headed enough to fill your shoes.”

Trisse let out a shaky breath and gave her a tremulous smile. “Good.”

Elsie left to find Steve. The soldier sat in a waiting room where the nurses and healers could keep an eye on him. He gazed out the window with unseeing eyes and offered no reaction when Elsie sat down next to him.

“Steve?”

He blinked once and took a long, slow breath. Blinking again, he turned toward her, recognition lighting his eyes.