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“He said, ‘You don’t have red hair.’ Then he fell back asleep.” She smiles knowingly. “He was awfully disappointed I wasn’t you, Captain.”
“Nonsense. There are plenty of redheaded women.”
“If you say so.”
“Alosa?” The voice is faint and unsteady.
“Riden.” I step up to the head of the table so I’m in his line of vision.
“I’ll just leave you two for a moment,” Mandsy says.
“Yes, thank you, Mands.”
She closes the door behind her.
His face is pale, but his chest still rises and falls, filling with air then releasing it. I never truly appreciated that motion until now. His arms and legs are covered in bandages. There’s barely more skin than white strips of cloth.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“Like I got shot. Twice.”
“If you weren’t so injured already, I’d beat you for what you did back there.”
“Freeing us?”
I shake my head. “No, you idiot. Getting yourself shot! Twice!”
“Pain goes away eventually,” he says. “Death is permanent.”
“You’re awfully lucid for a man who was shot.”
He smiles before his face turns to seriousness. “I’m sorry for what those men did to you. I can’t possibly know how awful it was for you, but I imagine it was horrific.”
I look at him incredulously.
“What?”
“Do you see me?” I ask.
“Yes. What—”
“I’m standing. I have no injuries. Nogunshot wounds, and you thinkIhad a horrific time? I’m fine.” Although I’m furious that Theris—the real Vordan—is still alive.
“How is my brother?” Riden asks.
“He’s in my brig.”
“Alive?”
“Yes, alive! You think I want a corpse stinking up the place?”
“Thank you, Alosa.”
I wave him off like it’s nothing. “I trust you find your own accommodations satisfying?” I ask when the silence becomes too long.
“I’m on a table.”
“Yes, but it’s the only thing in the room aside from Mandsy’s case of healing supplies. Not a mess in sight. There’s nothing for you to obsess over.”
