Page 113 of Forcing Fate

She snapped her mouth closed and stood there, seething in silence.

“It’s native to the Shadowlands. Ever been poisoned with it? Ever seen someone scream as their organs melted inside them?” He clenched his fists. “No? I have. Right after some Healer gave this to one of my men.”

Their arguing caused another wave of pain to assail my head. I moaned and tried to curl into a ball, failing miserably. My muscles didn’t want to obey.

There was a pause before she spoke, “Can I give her hesh seed powder?”

“Yes.” General Rafe seemed eerily calm.

She prepared a tonic, without a word. He helped hold me up while I drank it, as foul as it was. They laid me back down, and Rashel peeked under my cloak.

“Did they finish with her?” she whispered.

“No. The worst is her face,” he answered. “There are some minor cuts near her abdomen–”

She whirled on him. “You examined her?!”

He leaned against the door in silence, his face a mask of boredom.

“Please leave,” she said, turning to me.

“No.”

“Leave.”

He stared at her, waiting for her next move.

“I want to give her a chance to relieve herself. Allow her that privacy,” she huffed.

I watched through a haze as he grunted and opened the door. I blocked out the flash of daylight as my head throbbed, and sighed when the door clicked shut.

“Avyanna, tell me quickly. Was he involved? Did he hurt you?”

I met her demanding eyes, pleading with me to respond. Him? Hurt me? Only my feelings. I weakly shook my head, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank the sun, moon, and stars,” she muttered as she unwrapped the cloak.

With quick, gentle hands, she peeled off my ruined clothes. She helped me relieve myself without getting up. Dressing me in fresh under-breeches, she bound my chest and covered me with the General’s blanket.

“I know you’re looming,” she called, rolling her eyes. “You can come back in.”

General Rafe entered, and I closed my eyes against the glare. They said some people went blind in the north, where there was always snow. I could believe them.

“She has a fever. Is that normal with—what was it? ‘Cloud flower’ poisoning?” she asked, setting out some fresh rags.

“No. Fatigue, muscle soreness, yes.” He dragged the stool near the fire and took a seat.

“How is it administered?”

“Breaking the skin.”

“Perhaps a dirty blade?” Rashel mused.

“Usually by needle. There’s a small prick on her right shoulder.” He reached for a knife and whetstone and set to sharpen his blade.

She shifted me to my side and examined my back. “I take it the red veining is also uncommon.”

“Nothing I know of.” He took a moment to cast her a weary glance. “That’s why I called for you.”

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