Page 58 of Deadwood
He tied off the wrap, tucking the ends in to keep it in place, then sat back on his heels. The look on his face told me all I needed to know.
I shifted my leg to a more comfortable position. “You did.”
His eyes fell. “Briefly. The snow was thick, and I was rather occupied fighting for my life.”
“So I didn’t imagine it,” I whispered, more so to myself.
“No. You didn’t.”
I kept my voice hushed so only he could hear. “I thought dragons were in hiding?”
He looked conflicted on what to say. “Auria…”
I let out a breath. “I know.”
“It’s just…your father. He made it clear he didn’t want you knowing of certain things.”
“Is that why I’ve been forced to stay in the carriage?”
He nodded, the movement slow. “That’s part of the reason for his orders, yes.”
I didn’t doubt that the other reason was for my safety. As we’d seen, a majority of the guards that had been trailing the carriage were killed. If I had been outside, that easily could have been me lying lifeless in the snow beside them—or worse, frozen in place and shattered by the tail of that dragon.
Lander stood. “No need to worry, though. We’ll be ready to continue on our way back to Amosite soon, and you can leave the snow bandits and all of the death behind you.”
He walked away, heading over to the jug of water by the fire, as if it was that easy. My stomach felt queasy, but I wasn’t sure if it was due to the smell of blood all around us or the fact that my powers ached to be used. I decided to shove the feeling down until I could get into a tent and refill a fire vial we had been provided.
With my ankle now wrapped, I stood, testing my weight on it. It felt slightly better now that the cloth held it firm and the tea was setting in further, yet it still ached and sent tiny bursts of pain springing up my leg. Compared to how it felt on our trek here, it was bearable.
To get away from the groans of the guards and the scent of iron, I made sure everyone was preoccupied before sneaking away to the edge of town. Immediately, the cleaner, warm air filled my nose, the welcomed breeze blowing strands of hair away from my sweat-slicked forehead. The calmness was night and day compared to what we’d endured only hours ago. Ahead of me, the street was cast in an amber glow from the lanterns hanging on wooden posts outside businesses. Guards clad in all black stood watch outside some of the doors, daggers and swords strapped to their bodies.
More people than I expected walked down the street, confirming the shadowed creature in the desert likely couldn’t hurt us here. The biome was different once we crossed into town, more dirt than desert, which must act like some sort of barrier for the desert and its monsters to not pass through.
I unknowingly took a step forward when Bowen appeared in the street, walking alongside another man. They were discussing something, their voices too low to hear from where I stood, but they ceased talking when the one I didn’t recognize saw me. Bowen’s gaze followed, landing directly on me.
I quickly turned my eyes to the ground, but they’d both already seen me watching. I should turn back, go to my tent, and fall asleep. I needed the rest, but even so, my mind wouldn’t quiet. Whatever I decided to do, I couldn’t stay out here. There had to be a reason my father didn’t like Bowen, and I was unsure if I should hold the same feelings, regardless of him killing three men to protect me.
Just as I was about to turn back to camp, Bowen’s voice wrapped around me. “How are your guards?”
I startled, looking up to find him much closer than where he had stood only seconds ago. The man he was with had since left, and I couldn’t find him anywhere in the direct area. Bowen, on the other hand, didn’t so much as glance at the camp behind me. His blue eyes were so light, I almost wondered if there was color to them at all.
“They’re stable.” Though I was sure he didn’t truly care for the answer. His being nice all of a sudden made no sense.
“And you?” he asked.
My brows curved inward slightly at the question. Showing my weakness to him wouldn’t be smart, so I lied. “I’m great.”
A low hum sounded in the back of his throat as his gaze fell to the bottom of my tattered dress. “That why you’re limping?”
“I’m not limping,” I defended, but it was no use. I was very clearly catering to my injured foot, leaning most of my weight on my opposite side.
He didn’t look like he believed it for even a moment.
“Did you wrap it?”
I swallowed. There was no use in trying to hide it anymore. “Yes.”
He searched my face, most likely for the truth, then bent, lowering himself to a crouch in front of me until his head was level with my stomach.
