Page 23 of The Jester

Beneath my rough brown dress, my thigh aches. Perhaps the warm water will soothe it. Perhaps if I’m not in pain, I’ll be able to think more clearly. For there has to be some advantage to me being up here instead of down there in the dungeon. There has to be something I can do from here that will help the others.

Removing my dress, lifting it over my head, I cross to the tub, then remove my gloves too and step in, hooking my long legs over the rim then sinking down into the water.

My hair floats around my shoulders, becoming damp at the ends, and I sigh as the warm water laps at my stomach, my breasts, my arms, the binders on my wrists.

I scoop some water into my hands and splash my face.

But my thigh still burns and, raising my leg out of the water, I can see it is angry and red. I want to ask Briony for help. I want to ask if she has any way of healing it, but I am not yet certain I can trust her. I vow to search her aura when she returns. If I do, I’ll know whether she is earnest or whether she is a spy sent by Eldrion to watch over me and report my movements.

What if she reports my injury to Eldrion and I’m slammed back into the dungeon? Or given back to the traders?

It seems that, by being here in this tower, I have the chance – even if it is a tiny glimmer of a chance – to help my people escape. So, I will do what I can to ensure he keeps me here as long as possible.

Even if that means . . .

I swallow hard and screw my eyes closed. There is something about Eldrion that makes my skin ache with intrigue. Yet, knowing what I know of his cruelty, how could I ever find him anything but reprehensible?

If he intends to touch me, to use my body, to keep me here as his plaything, how do I let that happen without wanting to scream and claw out his eyes and tear holes in his wings with my teeth and my nails?

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

A jolt of nausea springs into my throat and I turn to the side of the tub, releasing the meagre contents of my stomach onto the stone floor.

Immediately, Briony appears in the doorway and hurries over. “You are burning up,” she whispers, brushing her palm across my forehead. “You are sick?”

I allow the gates of my mind to open and, even though a haze is descending on me, I search out her emotions.

“My lady?” She shakes her head, then corrects herself. “Alana... are you injured?”

I nod at her, suddenly unable to speak because my lips and mouth are so very dry. Her concern is palpable. It swims in her eyes and in the air around her.

She is sincere.

Thank the stars she is not an enemy.

“I was hit by a Gloomweaver’s arrow,” I whisper. “Please, don’t tell anyone. If Eldrion knows I’m weak he might send me to the dungeon and I can’t –” I inhale sharply as pain ricochets up and down my leg.

Briony’s eyes are wide and worried. She grabs a towel and moves to help me out of the tub. “My gloves,” I mutter. “I need my gloves. I shouldn’t touch you.”

She frowns at me but, without asking questions, nods. She hands me the gold gloves and I pull them shakily over my hands, then allow her to help me out.

It is ridiculous, really. I don’t need to touch her in order to feel what she is feeling; I perfected the art of using just my mind many years ago. And I know deep in my soul that I won’t do to another what I did to Kayan. At least, not like this. Not by accidentally brushing their skin with mine.

What happened with Kayan was the result of passion, and exhilaration, and a complete loss of control.

Part of me wondered, when I was with the stranger behind the falls, whether I might hurt him the same way. As my body exploded beneath his touch, I wondered whether it really was my hands that did the damage to Kayan or if it was all of me.

But he escaped unharmed.

So, perhaps my mother was right; my power is at its strongest in my fingertips.

When I am sitting on the edge of the bed, drinking from a large mug of water, Briony kneels in front of me and examines my wound. “Alana, I need to get you some medicine. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” She glances at the window, at the encroaching evening sky. “We have to make sure you’re well enough for the banquet.”

“Banquet?” I ask, my eyes fluttering as I lower myself back onto the bed. “What banquet?”

“Lord Eldrion has requested your presence this evening as his guest.” She is at the door, turning the handle. “I’ll explain. But first, medicine.”

And then she is gone, and a key turns in the lock, and I am alone.

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