Page 111 of Forcing Fate

I blinked twice.

“There’s only one that he would have access to… but to be sure–” He returned to the bedside, looking down at me.

His stare was absent of all hatred—all malice or bitter irritation. Instead, only concern.

He cared.

“I’m going to check you over.” His tone lowered. “I need to be sure that flaming son of a dung heap didn’t leave a needle in you.”

He rolled me to my side. I would have preferred a female Healer for this, but he moved with quick efficiency, not slowing, or fondling. He returned me to my back and went to the desk.

“Jewelweed,” he said, shaking the liquid contents of a glass vial. It gleamed an amber color in the firelight. “It will bring you back.”

He adjusted my face toward the ceiling. Gentle fingers gripped my jaw, easing my mouth open, and two drops of earthy, bitter liquid hit my tongue. He pulled away and laid my head on its side.

“You’ll start to feel like you’re being stung by a thousand hot needles, but that’s a good sign.” He shoved a cork in the bottle and returned it to his desk. “I have some business to attend to. I’ll be back shortly.”

With that, I was left alone in General Rafe’s room.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The pain started in my hip. Just as General Rafe said—hot needles stabbed me—as if someone stitched me up without applying numbing ointment. I tried to wiggle to find some relief, but I remained achingly still, unable to escape it. The excruciating sensation spread through my pelvis and abdomen. It shot through my legs and up to my neck. Shivers jerked my frame as a cold sweat beaded over my skin. It stung and burned all at once. Tears leaked down my cheeks. I wanted to grind my teeth, to curl up and hide… When would it stop?

Minutes passed, though it felt like hours of torment.

Shouts were muffled from outside, and the windows rattled as the door jerked open and slammed shut. My chest rose and fell in rapid, stuttered breaths. I forced my eyes open to see General Rafe staring down at me, his face void of emotion. Someone banged on the door, though he didn’t flinch or make any effort to answer.

“Breathe. There’s no remedy for this.” He pulled a stool away from the desk and took a seat, blocking the doorway.

Wave after wave of searing pain wracked my body. My teeth chattered together, and I bit down hard, forcing a slow breath in through my nose. A choking sob cut my attempt short, and I lurched onto my side, thrashing on the bed like a madwoman.

He appeared above me and wrapped my cloak around me again, before resuming his vigil on his stool. As my mobility crept back, the pain only worsened. I pressed my lips tight, but whimpers and gasps tore from my throat, refusing to be stifled.

I’m not sure how much time passed before the anguish finally ebbed. I laid on my side, gasping for air, sweat soaking my torn clothes. Though the sensation slowed, hot needles still pricked, sporadic and unrelenting. With each torturous stab, I winced, bracing myself for more.

“Drink.”

He offered me a cup, but I had no strength to lift it, or even move, for that matter. My head throbbed, my face and lips stung, and I ached from the roots of my hair to my toenails.

He lifted my head, ignoring my cloak that fell far too low for modesty’s sake, and tipped the cup to my mouth. Sweet, cool liquid coated my tongue. It soothed some of the havoc raging in my throat. He took the cup away and eased me down.

“Sleep,” he rasped as he headed back to his stool.

Surely he would take me to the Healers now?

“Why–” I tried to form the words past my swollen, cracked lips and he leveled a glare at me.

“Are you sleep talking? No?” he growled. “I gave you an order, soldier. Sleep.”

I had no more fight left in me, but I needed to know. Why was he helping me? Where was Willhelm? Why did he bring me here?

I wanted to thank him.

Alas, I wanted to sleep more.

I drifted off into the black oblivion that kept the pain at bay.

“I won’t tell you again, Sergeant. Back off.”

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