Page 114 of Forcing Fate

She heaved a sigh and placed her hands on her hips. “Where would he have gotten a poison from the Shadowlands?”

“That Master’s apprentice.”

“Hmm.”

Fatigue clawed at the edges of my mind and I surrendered to it, falling into a dreamless sleep.

I drifted in and out of consciousness as days passed. I caught snippets of conversation at times. Sometimes Healer Rashel was there, and other times General Rafe. If he was alone, he was usually reading, sharpening a blade, or hunched over his desk, examining dried plants.

I woke feeling as though my body finally fought off the fever. Sitting up, I found him nose-deep in a book.

“I didn’t peg you as the bookish type,” I rasped.

“You pegged me as a witless barbarian,” he ground out, setting the book aside to fetch me a cup of water.

I gulped it down.

He placed the cup on a table. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes, much better.”

Good enough that I pulled the blanket up around my neck, trying to hide my state of undress. He ignored my actions and placed a calloused hand on my forehead. Grunting in approval, he walked the few paces to the door and opened it, growling at someone before shutting it again.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He squinted at me, and I dropped my gaze to the blanket.

“Thank you so much,” I repeated, braving a glance up. He stood there, frowning, arms crossed over his chest. He seemed upset—angry or disappointed, I couldn’t tell.

“I beg your pardon for taking your bed and inconveniencing you. I don’t know how I’ll repay you, but–”

“Stop,” he barked.

I flinched and pressed my lips together.

He moved to the stool and took a seat. “You stubborn girl. You foolish, stubborn girl.” He reached under his eye covering, rubbing at the wound. “You acted like a child.”

Blood rushed to my cheeks, and I glared at my hands. How was I acting like a child? Was he going to blame this on me again?

“You didn’t seek me out to train you—either because you were too proud, or too scared. I highly doubt the latter. You’ve a penchant for being too brave for your size.”

I peered up into his dark gaze. “A bit of both, to be honest.”

He sat back and eyed me, brows raised in surprise at my admission.

“I don’t like you,” I started. “I should say, I didn’t like you–”

“I haven’t changed,” he growled.

“My perspective has. I didn’t like you, and to be fair, you are intimidating.” I offered him a small smile in my defense.

“I aim to be.”

“You succeed.” I assured him.

With a scoff, he rubbed at his injured eye again.

“Why did you help me?”

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