Page 3 of The Rose in the Shadows

No,it burned.

I shifted my arms once more and lost myself entirely to the scorching pain. My skin was burning.Iwas burning.

My eyes flew open and with a sudden gasp, I stared down at my body as if it were foreign. Someone had tied a thin, uncomfortable gown too loosely around my shoulders, and my waist and legs were strapped to a bed with leather bindings. My hands and arms, still screaming in pain, were bandaged with leaves and a pale yellow paste. I nearly gagged on the lurid smell of it.

The bed sat against the wall in an otherwise empty room. Pale white tiles covered the walls and floors that were otherwise devoid of decoration, sparing a small stool in the corner of the room. Two candles burned near the door, letting in a slight glow of light, but the space lacked any windows to the outside world. The door itself was glass, allowing me to look out. Or rather, allowing others to look in on me. But no one hovered outside. I could only see a long hall dimly lit and trailing into darkness.

“Help!” I croaked, voice raw and tired. “Can anyone hear me?”

I struggled against the restraints, but they refused to budge even an inch and though my arms were free, the pain of my injuries kept me from being able to move them above my sides. I threw back my head in frustration as minutes turned to hours.

Until finally, after what felt like a lifetime of isolation, a nurse clicked open the door and walked inside. I jerked my head towards her, taking in the image of a small woman, wearing a simple white dress and apron with graying hair tucked back neatly. Her small square shoes hit the floor with a thud at each step.

“Why am I here?” I struggled to sit up against the straps holding me down.

“Quiet!”

I clamped my mouth shut, teeth snapping together loudly. She approached me without hesitation, pulling at the leaves on my arms and glancing at the inflamed skin underneath. My arms were covered in bruises and blistered flesh that nearly turned my stomach in the second that I looked at it before jerking my head away.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, nodding towards my arms.

“Yes,” I whispered, flinching as she poked aggressively at the tender skin.

Without responding, she pressed each of her palms flat against my arms and I watched as she took a deep breath in and closedher eyes. Slowly, the air in the room stilled. Frozen, I stared as a golden glow erupted from her fingertips and spread across my wounded flesh. Warmth covered my arms and I flinched, instinctively, but she squeezed down, locking me into place under her vice-like grasp.

“Stop!” I cried out. “What are you doing?”

The glow from her fingers spread over my wounded skin, and the pain eased after a moment. The stomach-turning burn of my crisped flesh was erased from every place the light touched me.

“What are you?” I gasped.

She peered up at me through dark lashes with irritation. “Try not to move. The skin will still need a bit more time to heal completely.”

Her shoes hit the floor once more as she retreated back into the seemingly unending hall outside of my room. It was all I could do to stop myself from crying as she faded from view and all that was left were shadows. She didn't even tell me her name.

Time passed. I wasn't sure how much.

The sound of booming footsteps pounding through the door woke me from an otherwise dreamless sleep. Soldiers, ten in all, marched forward in dark vests and trousers. I wasn’t quite sure what to be more afraid of, the fact that they looked ready for battle or that their eyes were trained on me alone. Then, as if practiced, they formed around me, surrounding the corners of my bed and the room door. No one spoke. For a moment, we were all still.

And that’s when he came in.

Even while terrified and strapped to a bed, my body couldn’t help but respond to him. Under his carefully tailored black tunic and leather trousers, I could make out the signs of firm muscle. He stood tall, broad shoulders pulled back as he strode into the room confidently. His sandy hair was perfectly combed back away from his clean-shaven face and remarkably sharp jaw-line.

It wasn’t hard to acknowledge that he was attractive, but attractive men weren't always trustworthy.

As he pulled the stool from the corner of my room and sat it by the foot of my bed, choosing to prop a leg upon it than to sit, his stormy grey eyes met mine and there was no kindness to be found in his gaze. I couldn't fight the catch in my breath as that gaze travelled down my body before crawling back to my face.

“Well?” He finally asked expectantly, linking his hands together and leaning forward on his knees. “Care to explain what your plans were on that bridge?”

What bridge?

“This will be much easier if you cooperate,” he growled after I failed to respond.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

"I will get answers from you before this day is over.” He paused expectantly, waiting for me to agree to play a game I didn’t seem to know the rules of. “Let's start with your name.”

“My name?” I echoed, immediately feeling stupid.

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