Page 31 of Of Flames and Fallacies

“Have her here tomorrow. Immediately after breakfast.”

“Tomorrow. Of course.” Cole uses an open palm to lead me out.

“Nice to meet you!” I call with a half wave as we shuffle out the door. As soon as the door shuts behind us, I twist to Cole with a hiss. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to fake it!”

Cole throws out a hand to silence me as two men pass us. After they disappear from view, Cole ushers me back toward his room. As soon as we open his door, my heart drops.

The trunk where we placed Daeja is tipped over. The lid is wide open, and a disarray of contents spill out onto the floor. But no Daeja.

This was a mistake.

I jet to trunk, tipping it back over and scanning the floor, picking through piles of letters and correspondence and—

Cole clears his throat. He holds the sheets on his bed up, revealing Daeja curled into a ball, her nose tucked under her tail. Sleeping.

At the commotion, she lifts her head, her eyes blinking heavily as she yawns.

My breath blows out of my lungs.

“Let’s get you to your room. I have to attend sparring soon, and it should be a bit more private than my quarters.” Cole rests a hand on my shoulder, his thumb stroking me reassuringly. “I can bring you food and new clothes afterwards.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

His gaze softens as he places both hands on my shoulders. “Nothing is wrong with them. But you’ve been wearing these for years. Not to mention if this is all you’ve traveled with.”

I follow his gaze down to where he’s touching me. Dark stains mottle the material.

Cole’s voice drops to a wistful tone, “I can’t imagine living in the same clothes for months on end has been very comfortable.”

My eyes round with shock. “What? Did you saymonths?”

“Yes. The fire happened almost three months ago.”

My mouth goes dry, and my mind fumbles for proof of it. I attempt to recount my days and memories and…nothing. I can remember events but not the days. Or the weeks.

Or the months.

I thought the cold weather could be attributed to how far north we traveled. Not because we were at the tail end of fall. The way Daeja’s weight leaves my shoulders sore…how much bigger she is. It all makes sense. The fear of how completely out of my mind I am creeps in.

But Cole’s tender touch anchors me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” I swallow.

“I know you’re not fine when you say you’re fine.” He squeezes my hand. “If you don’t want to talk about it yet, that’s okay. I’m here when you’re ready. In the meantime, let’s get you settled and with some clean clothes. We can get your current things washed if you prefer it over what we have. Deal?”

“Deal,” I squeak out.

Daeja, Cole, and I head to the western storage tent, now adjusted to accommodate our stay.

As we step inside, a damp scent of must and earth wafts over me. Small holes sprinkling the ceiling cast beams of golden light onto the floor, swirls of dust dancing within it.

“You deserve so much more than this,” Cole breathes after he closes the door.

Daeja pokes her head out from my hood, and I scratch under her chin for a job well done in staying quiet and still. I make my way around the room. The tent has to be nearly three times the size of the other tents inhabited by soldiers. I suppose it made sense, considering this was where they stored their supplies. Remnants of those supplies were still stacked in rows of wooden crates against one of the walls. Thick wooden posts support the angled roof, and Cole leans back against a thick wooden door with his arms crossed.

I toss a look over my shoulder at him. “Is it safe?”

He shrugs. “Probably the safest place for you right now.”

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