Page 22 of Forcing Fate

“Hail! Healer!” I rushed to him as he turned toward my call.

“Child? What are you doing here?” The older Healer glanced around, likely searching for a Master or escort, anything to determine why I’d be there.

“I am under orders to assist General Rafe. I am in need of clean wrappings. His hands have suffered an injury,” I pleaded, clasping my fingers in front of my chest in a show of respect.

“His hands have dealt more injury than—child, what happened to your hands?”

He drew my hands apart, studying the hundreds of tiny scratches. My marred skin burned with inflammation, but I knew it would soon go away. Though the open, deeper wounds would take more time to heal.

“Only prickleberry scrapes. Nothing to concern yourself over,” I assured him.

“Child, I will give you bandages for your wounds, but nothing for that scoundrel of a General unless he asks it directly of me.” He jerked his head with a sharp, defiant nod. “You pass that along.”

He shuffled through the bag strapped to his shoulder. The pouch held potions, wrappings, and a few fresh herbs. The Healer passed me clean bandages and a small vial of liquid.

“Rub this tincture on the lacerations. It will not speed the healing process, but it will lessen any pain and inflammation.”

“Thank you, very much.” I bowed my head before turning away.

Upon arriving at the General’s tent, I noted the open flap and ducked inside, taking that as an invitation. My steps stumbled to a halt. Prickleberry pods littered the floor and the tray that I had set them on was thrown across the room. General Rafe was sitting at the desk, with his back to me, studying a piece of parchment.

My pride stung as much as my hands as I gawked at the terrible mess.

“Learn your place,” he muttered the words in that deep voice of his, and though he never looked away from the parchment, I knew they were meant for me.

I gritted my teeth and stormed over to his desk, smashing the bandages down. My hand remained on top so he could see the results of the effort I went through to retrieve the berries.

“My place is to be your fire-blasted assistant!” I snarled. “The Masters have ordered me to assist you, and assist you, I shall.”

“I’ve no desire to play nursemaid to a child,” he said cooly, ignoring my wounds.

“I am no child!” I hissed through clenched teeth. “This will take the sting out of your hands, but not your words.” I slammed the vial on his parchment and whirled to start on the mess.

A steel arm wrapped around my waist, jerking me back. An iron hand clamped over my mouth. It muffled my scream as my body crashed back onto his muscled chest, leaving no room between us. My heart rose into my throat, and the blood drained from my face. I had never touched a man. Ever. This man took that experience without consent, General or no. I bit at his hand and stomped my feet on top of his, seeking freedom.

His deep laugh vibrated through his chest and against my ear. “At least I’m only using my words.”

He released me and I stumbled forward, sprawling to the floor. Prickleberry juice stained patches on my dress. I spun and sat up in a crouch, eyes wide with terror. My heart hammered a panicked beat in my chest that resonated through my ears. Every instinct screamed for me to run.

His dark eye narrowed. Bitterness and hatred were almost tangible as he stepped around me to the entryway. “Oh, and one more thing.” He paused, turning back. “Clean up this thrice-cursed mess.”

And with that, he stormed out of the tent, leaving me quaking with fearful rage.

Chapter Seven

I stood inside General Rafe’s tent in my stained, filthy dress, wondering if I could take any more of his foul mood. He hadn’t returned since he… assaulted me? Assault was a good word for it. He didn’t hurt me—other than my pride—but he certainly put the fear of the Shadows into me.

On his departure, he left the tent flap down, so I couldn’t see the training fields, and I wasn’t eager to open it and peer out. Maybe tomorrow I would be braver, but today I had exhausted my mental stores of valor.

“Sergeant Willhelm to fetch Miss Avyanna,” he called.

I took a deep breath to calm my frayed nerves and ducked under the flap. Willhelm’s eyebrows rose as he took in the stains covering my dress, and I bit my lip to keep from tearing up. I was relieved to see him, but just wanted to head back to the dorms. School ground bullies were monsters I knew how to cope with. General Rafe was a whole different beast.

Willhelm didn’t say a word. He simply motioned me to his side, and today I crowded a little closer to him as we walked away. When we reached the main road, he broke the silence.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” he asked gently, studying me from the corner of his eye.

I refused to meet his gaze. If I acknowledged his concern, I would only end up weeping like a babe. Perhaps if I replied with one-word answers, my voice wouldn’t break. “No.”

---