Page 50 of A Trial of Fate

Well, those seem to be functioning properly, at least.

I dared to move my right arm underneath me to push off the bed, which unfortunately activated the muscles along my back. A red-hot, searing pain sliced across me, making it difficult to breathe, let alone move. I refused to scream, though. I screamed so much during my capture that I doubted I had any more left in me.

I sucked in a breath that strained my still-broken ribs and clenched my teeth to try and move once more. No matter, I had become used to pain. Fighting through the searing agony of my ripping muscles, I forced myself upright onto my knees. The bed I was lying on sank with the shift of my weight, but I remained deathly still, focusing on my breathing and waiting for the throbbing pain to subside.

Opening my eyes, I recognized the familiar sweet scent of lavender that helped relax my aching muscles and allowed warmth to spread throughout my limbs. The stark white wood-paneled walls were clean and bright, reflecting the sun’s rays through open windows and various mirrors that hung on the walls. I admired how Latte positioned them just right and how they were able to bounce the sunlight around the entire room. Despite the time of day, this room was always bright and warmed by the sun’s natural beauty.

The other beds that lined the wall were empty, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t have any visitors in here any time soon. Fresh flowers lay on the bedside next to me, lupine and fireweed intertwined in a beautiful purple bloom, giving a splash of color that made me smile. I turned my eyes upward and glanced at the ceiling, which, oddly enough, was one of my favorite details about this place. Various painted vines, trees, and plant designs decorated every corner. It was like being inside the forest itself instead of being trapped indoors and separated from the beauty of nature. It helped our patients feel connected to nature as they healed from various wounds and illnesses.

The incoherent bickering from outside the healers’ quarters seemed to settle into a low rumble—thank the gods above. I swung my leg out from under me to sit on the edge of the bed with my feet resting on the floor.

Not bad, I told myself.Now for the real test.

I grabbed the bedpost and forced myself to stand. Every inch of my body screamed in protest at what I was struggling to achieve. Logically, I knew I needed the rest. I understood that only a day ortwo ago, I was inches from death’s door, but I didn’t care. I had to see it.

Luckily, the mirror positioned near the doorway was on my side of the room, but I still had to take five or maybe six steps to reach it. I shut my eyes and willed my legs to carry me across the floor. One step at a time, I picked up my aching limbs and slowly approached the mirror. When I reached the end of the bed, the pain was considerably less, still present and aching, but it was something I could easily manage.

Reaching out, I braced my hands against the sturdy wall with my shoulders hunched over. My palms landed on either side of the mirror as I raised my gaze and bravely looked at my reflection.

“Not the worst, but I have definitely seen better.” I gave myself a pity chuckle and turned my face to the side to examine my sunken features.

I was not vain, but I did acknowledge that I was considered attractive among the female shifters in our village. However, my long brown hair, which always held a golden highlighted hue, now seemed dingy and dirty. The golden sun-streaked pieces that highlighted my face were almost gone. My cheeks were sunken in a little, and the exhaustion that clung to my eyes was expected—but still difficult to witness. The fire of my amber stare, however, was still there. My eyes burned with the reddish-golden blaze encased by a black ring around dancing flames. I smiled a full, happy grin as I dipped my head toward the floor.

“You couldn’t break…allof me,” I whispered to the empty room. “Thank you,” I said with a heavy sigh to my animal. “You never left me alone.”

There was no doubt that without her constant presence, I would have broken the first time Blade sliced into me. That, paired with the dreams and songs of the babbling creek, spirited my mind away when I couldn’t face the reality I was forced to endure.

I glanced at my hands placed on either side of my reflection and cringed. I knew my recovery would never be that simple, but the thought of cleaning myself up in a warm bath helped.

On to the next phase.

I braced myself, readying for what I knew I had to face. Straightening my back, I untied the strap of the silk robe that crossed over in front of my torso and unveiled my naked flesh. The world around me turned to silence. You could hear a pin drop from across the room or a flutter of a bird’s wings on the windowsill. Slowly, Ilowered the robe beneath my shoulders, exposing pieces of my back, one section at a time. Holding the sides below my waist, I shut my eyes and rotated to my right. I brushed my hair over my shoulder and tilted my head to see what the mirror would reveal.

I gasped, quickly holding a hand to my mouth, trying to cover my mournful sob. The marks along my back were… There were no words for what they were, and I knew they would become scars that wouldnevercompletelyheal.

Visions of my last experiment with Blade flashed before my eyes. The sounds of his iron-tipped whip beating against me echoed in my ears. His ragged breaths and amused cackle twisted my stomach in knots. My legs trembled, and my breathing quickened at an almost uncontrollable pace. I could feel the fear rising in my throat, choking the life out of me where I stood. I was being pulled back into my memories, reliving my worst nightmare and feeling the guilt of my weakness and failure all over again.

Out of nowhere, I heard someone appear in the room, and I shot my eyes upward in the mirror to see who it was—Daxton.

“I-I didn’t,” he stammered, probably for the first time in his immortal life. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I heard you and…” He cast his eyes down and to the side. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.” He seemed embarrassed at his intrusion, but still, he didn’t leave right away. Straightening his back, he sheathed his knife with an apologetic expression on his face.

“Daxton, wait!” I said in a panic.

I didn’t want him to leave. It didn’t make any logical sense, but I needed him to stay with me. Perhaps it was because, in my dreams, his voice comforted me and encouraged me to keep fighting. Or because he was the first to find me in my rescue. Regardless of my confusion, my animal seemed to understand this need and sent flickers of tingling sensations through my limbs. I wanted to be near him. I craved the protection and safety that he had proven he could give me. It was almost like a primal instinct that was guiding me to ask him to stay, and for once, I didn’t fight against it.

Daxton froze at my plea for him to stay. In the reflection, I watched his eyes rise slowly from the floor, taking in every inch of me, carefully calculating every breath and movement. His gaze didn’t linger on the scars across my back or the nakedness of my exposed breasts. No, instead, he focused his alluring gray eyes on the reflection of my stare with unflinching strength beaming from within. He boldly stepped toward me, crossing the distance that separated us as Iremained fixed in his gaze.

I remained utterly still as he stepped behind me. I couldn’t break away from the horror reflected in the mirror that bore the scars of my torture. In that moment, I was not strong enough to lift my robe and simply allow the memories to wash away like the rolling tide. I was locked in that iron cell again. Waiting for death, longing for anything to take away my suffering. I needed help.

“I’m here, Spitfire. You’re never alone,” Daxton said softly, caressing me with his whispered voice.

I could see his outreached hand begin to tremble as he finally allowed his eyeline to dip toward my exposed back. Fury burned in his stare. He clenched his hands into fists and pivoted away, trying to steady his building rage. With one glance in his direction, I could feel his anger mirroring my own, thrumming wildly through my middle.

“Can—” I stumbled for a moment, trying to find the courage to speak. Daxton tensed and turned his face toward me once again. “Can you help me? Please, Daxton?” I glanced down at my robe, silently gesturing for his aid in pulling it back over my shoulders.

His stormy eyes softened as he looked at me in the reflection. Daxton’s hands delicately gripped the fabric as he slowly glided it up my shoulders and back into place. He was meticulous with each movement as his fingers brushed against my skin, analyzing every flinch and breath I took while he was near me. His touch was gentle against the healed skin on my flesh, creating a veil of safety that allowed me to breathe without a plaguing weight of fear.

I moved to close my robe as his hands reached out to grasp mine. I didn’t realize I was shaking until Daxton tried to steady me. Despite his protection and comfort, the pressure of my terror built, and the world collapsed around me.

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