Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Tomorrow, I’ll have a good cry about all of this. When I have everything put away, only then will I allow myself to break down.
Chapter
Seven
Iwake up in the darkness to a sour stomach and the uncomfortable watering of my mouth. Oh no. Weak and shaking, I barely manage to crawl out of the rope bed before I vomit all over the stone floor.
Stupid. Stupid stupid.
I know better than to skip my medicine. The shaking and sour stomach come first. If I continue to ignore those symptoms, I’ll get weak and my heart will race uncontrollably. If the bad blood is allowed to continue building up, I’ll die in a matter of days, and there’s no one here to take care of me.
I’m on my own.
I allow myself a moment of self-pity, and then I get off the floor. I wipe my mouth with my skirts and fumble for my candle in the darkness. It’s gone out and the striker is downstairs—another problem. I’ll learn from my mistakes, but I’m annoyed that I have to learn from them right now. I just want my medicine and to go back to bed. Feeling my way forward, I manage to find the stairs again and carefully head down at a glacial pace. It seems to take forever to find the next flight of stairs, and even longer to find my trunks again. The inky blackness is stifling, and there’s not a single hint of light to be found.
I’m alone in suffocating darkness.
It feels like hours before I find the strikers once more, and when my fingers brush over them, I want to cheer with relief. Hands shaking, I manage to light a bit of tinder and then dip a fresh candle into the flame. That done, I reach out to the closest trunk and ask my knife,” Is my medicine in here?”
No answer. Not that trunk, then.
I reach for the next one.
“What are you doing?”
The voice of the male Fellian is near enough that it makes me jump. I drop my candle in surprise, smothering a scream. A moment later, I snatch it back up again before it can go out and glare in his direction. “Don’t sneak up on me!”
“I smelled vomit in the air. Are you sick?” His deep, rich voice is full of indignation. He melts out of the shadows, just enough for me to see the glint of bright green eyes reflecting the light of my candle, and a hulking form still wearing a cloak and hood. “Did the puling Lios king send a sick female to the tower as his sacrifice?”
“Piss off,” I tell him. “Go lurk in the shadows somewhere else. I’m busy.” Just because we have to live together doesn’t mean we have to get along, and it’s clear that we’re not going to be amiable neighbors. His room is probably better than mine, too. Bastard. I’m not in the mood to deal with his dragon shite right now. I just want my medicine and a snack, and to think about all of this tomorrow.
“Are you going to leave all your trunks here for long?” The Fellian’s tone is insufferable. “You’re making a mess.”
I turn back to him, glaring, my jaw clenched so I don’t vomit again. I take three deep breaths, and when I can speak without getting sick, I manage, “I just got here today, just like you. When I have a moment, I will take all my trunks and put them away. Until then, you’re just going to have to deal with it. I don’t want to be here either, understand? So leave me alone.”
He makes a harrumphing sound and then his big, shadowy form retreats. Ever so faintly, I hear footsteps going up the stairs and I realize I’m alone again. Thank the gods. More bile threatens, and I lie flat on the floor, pinching my nose and willing it to go away, because I’m going to have to clean up whatever mess I make, and I do not have the energy to clean up vomit.
More vomit. Whatever.
My stomach settles, and with the knife’s help, I find the vial of medicine and a package of dry oatcakes that Nurse tucked away for me. I eat one, heat my vial of medicine over the candle-flame, and then shoot the syringe into my veins. I break out in a cold sweat and lie on the floor again as I wait for my symptoms to disappear.
Tomorrow, I tell myself.
Tomorrow I’ll panic.
Chapter
Eight
It takes two days for me to decide that the worst thing about being trapped in a tower is the lack of light.
I miss the sun. By the three gods, I miss the sun. I miss fresh air and having light in my face when I wake up. I miss looking out a window onto a green lawn and the sight of flowers. I miss all of that so much that I ache.