Page 5 of The Rose in the Shadows

“What bridge do you keep talking about?” I questioned.

“What bridge?” Clayton repeated, brows raised and voice thick with incredulity. “The bridge you shook so violently it will take weeks to repair! The bridge you stood on when you attacked my people and killed someone. Am I ringing any bells?”

I froze, breath caught in my throat. No. That couldn’t be true.

And yet, if it were true, then maybe all of this chaos since I woke actually… made sense.

Of course that's why I was strapped to this ridiculous bed in this painfully empty room. I had hurt someone. They had somehow subdued me and locked me up here so I couldn't hurt anyone else.

But why couldn’t I remember any of this?

“I don’t think I wanted to hurt anyone,” I mused, unsure if I was speaking more to myself or him.

“You certainly did,” he replied.

“You don’t understand!” I cried, struggling against the restraints. The guards around me responded at once, each stepping forward and brandishing their weapons. I froze, raising my now fully healed hands up in surrender. The loose gown fell gently over my shoulder, but I didn’t dare to try to move it back into place.

“I don’t know anything about a bridge, who you are, or even where I am. I remember waking up, and that isallI remember!”

Clayton wrapped his hands against the railing at the foot of my bed again, but his skin did not mutate this time. I was grateful for that, at least.

“Exactly how naïve do you think I am?”

“How should I know the answer to that question whenI don’t know you.”

With a swift motion, he ripped the stool off the floor and threw it across the room. I flinched as it hit the wall with a crash and splintered into pieces before falling to the ground.

“I will find out the truth whether you want to tell me or not! So, I suggest you do so now while I’m being kind in my interrogation tactics.”

“Clayton, stop!” Iris gasped suddenly as she looked down at me with an emotion I couldn’t quite identify.

“Problem, Iris?” He scolded, huffing with frustration.

Throwing a glare at him over her shoulder, she strode towards me suddenly, heels clicking on the floor.

“I won’t speak to your naïvety,” Iris called to him, “But I might question how observant you are!”

Her nails grazed my skin as she pulled the thin fabric of my gown further down my shoulder. I flinched away from her forcefully and the guards stepped forward once more, weapons at the ready.

“Doesn’t this seem odd to you?” She questioned, voice sharp and eyes locked on my chest.

The guards must have been well-trained because while each of their eyes seemed to widen in surprise their hands did not waver until Clayton mumbled for them to be at ease and took a few tentative steps forward. He didn't speak, but I saw his jaw working as he glanced over me.

A flush of unease peppered my cheeks as I strained my neck to see what had captured everyone's attention. I could just make out the dark tattoo, in the shape of a weapon of some sort, inked into the skin on my left breastbone. It had one long shaft stretching up and branching into two jagged spear-like ends.

I shifted again, desperate to see more of it. “Is that a-”

“It’s a bident,” Iris told me, her voice quiet and tense. “The symbol of House Hyrax, God of the Dead. That tattoo is the Mark of Hyrax.”

Wordlessly, Clayton ran his fingertips over the Mark, leaving pebbled flesh in his wake. I shivered just as he cursed under his breath.

“The Dragon will want to know,” Iris said softly behind him.

He was quiet for a moment, staring intensely down at me while his lips pursed. Dampness covered the top of my brow and I wondered numbly how it had possibly grown so warm in the room.

“You truly don’t remember anything before you woke up?” He asked, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

I nodded, too unsure of anything to speak aloud.

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