Page 220 of The Doll and The Domination

But Knightingale hops next to me with the giddiness of a puppy, so I lift my head from DaiSzek’s thick neck and look to the dark wall forming a heady perimeter across that sandy shore.

Only…it’s not a wall.

It’s populations of soldiers in clusters talking, sitting, eating, setting up tents, sharpening weapons, docking boats, and training with swords. And they’re all so different. The Demechnef soldiers stick out like sore thumbs to the far right of the shore with their gold tassels and maroon uniforms. But the rest are rugged and ancient and beautiful to look at.

The Stormsages are sporting their northern attire, yet peeling off their heavy coats and furs.

The Nightamous Horde appear like sultry death in their black straps of leather and revealing transparent clothing. Though this time, they wear charcoal breastplates and helmets.

Then there are the Druidalas Kin with their heavy robes and long wooden staffs.

The Naiadales with their clothing made of shrubs and vines.

The Faecrest colony in shiny bangles and beige clothing, holding golden spears.

And off in a small section surrounding a fire is Judas with his people of Crimson Cres. They wear silver armor, old and antique, like stoic white knights. And I suppose they’re all spies of the city, now gathered for their greater purpose.

“You really did it,” I whisper to DaiSzek.

He gathered the colonies. He brought our armies.

“Child?”

I shift my focus across the masses of people along the border, landing on a man rising from the log he was seated on. Chekiss steps toward me, boots sinking in the sand, arms rising from his sides in complete astonishment.

“Chekiss!” I choke out, sliding off of DaiSzek’s back.

He races toward me, but the second my feet land, my knees quake under my weight. The world tilts and rotates unnaturally. I’m feeble and hungry and disjointed in my ability to stand upright. I tumble to my knees, feeling Chekiss’s warm, fatherly arms wrapping around me.

“Are you hurt?” he asks huskily.

“No.” I blink slowly. “Yes. I haven’t eaten or had anything to drink. My arm was hit by an arrow.”

“What does she need?” Runa stands behind him, blocking the tangerine rays of the sunset.

“Runa,” I murmur with a smile.

“She must be delirious if she’s happy to see me,” Runa comments with a glib smirk.

“Soup! Bring hot broth and bread!” Chekiss sits me down gently, brushing my hair away from my face. “Rest your eyes, child.”

“I can’t,” I say helplessly.

“You’re safe now.”

“No. We have to get them out.”

But my vision is shaded and blurry. My face goes numb. My lashes crisscross over my vision. And the last thing I feel is DaiSzek lying down beside me.

~

I wake up to the stars twinkling over my head and a mug of steam hovering under my nose.

“Drink. It’s soup,” Chekiss says.

I sit up against DaiSzek’s sleeping body. I remind myself of a street child the way I guzzle the warm soup. Chicken and other vegetables. Hot broth. Salty and delicious running down my throat.

“Mmm!” I sway back and forth, feeling delighted as I slurp from the mug messily.

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