Page 27 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
We’re higher up now. There are actual windows, and the sunlight touches my face, embracing me like an old friend. It makes me feel faint, as if my body has decided I don’t need to keep fighting anymore—that now, at last, I can rest. I fight the pull of unconsciousness as we leave a trail of bodies behind us, not stopping until we hurtle through a door into the blessed fresh air.
“Back to the horses,” Leon barks. “Steal some if you find any closer. We need to get out of the citynow.”
I blink up at the sky, thinking that we probably didn’t leave anyone in there alive tospread the word about us. As Leon carries me away from the building, I search the windows for movement, my eyes blurring with exhaustion. There—right near the top, I see a figure. It’s tall and thin and standing completely still, perfectly framed by the window.
It reminds me of someone. But it may just be the beckoning sleep suggesting that. Whoever it is, they watch us as we hurry away from the building.
Chapter 9
Morgana
Idon’t remember much else. I slip in and out of the waking world without really being able to grasp what’s happening. At some point, I feel the rhythm of hoofbeats beneath me, which then changes to the rattle of a carriage. Then there’s the slow tilt of a large structure creaking around me and the distant splashing of water.
In the moments when I have a snatch of coherent thought, I suspect Leon is working actively to keep my slumber calm and dreamless. Whenever I close my eyes, all I see is the soft, golden light of sunshine, stretching on for eternity—no landscapes, no people, just me and the light.
My peace is disturbed by a stinging sensation somewhere near my stomach. It grows, yanking me from that harmonious golden land into a white-walled room. I stare up at the canopy of a four-poster bed and hiss as the stinging hits again.
“Sorry,” I look down to see Mal bent over me, applying something to my exposed stomach. “We’ve healed most of it, but Heda says this might help with the scarring.”
I gingerly prop myself up on my elbows to examine my state. I’ve been washed and changed in my sleep, but that only reveals what can’t be fixed with a little grooming. My stomach is a map of stark, white lines, criss-crossing over each other like a knotted, gnarled spider’s web. I lie back, notwanting to look at the scars anymore, and when Mal is done, sleep claims me again.
I don’t know how much later it is when I wake, but when I do, I don’t need to open my eyes to sense his presence.
Leon. I just know he’s there, and a strange certainty tells me that will always be the case. Wherever we are, whatever’s happening, I’ll be tuned to him.
Now I turn to meet his gaze and reach out to him. He comes and kneels by the bedside, cupping my face in his hand. For a moment we don’t say anything. We don’t need to. Just being close again is enough. I let myself get pulled into his eyes. Eventually, they settle my mind enough to allow me to say what I’ve been waiting to.
“Thank you.”
He gives me a questioning look.
“Thank you for coming to get me. I tried to escape on my own, I really did, but I wasn’t strong enough.”
He lowers his face to mine and gently captures my lips, cradling my head as he warms me from the inside out with his kiss.
“Don’t thank me,” he says when we part. “Because I did it entirely for myself. I couldn’t go on, couldn’t live, until I had you back. It was disgustingly selfish, really.”
I smile. “Well, thank you for being selfish, even if I don’t find you disgusting at all.”
I sit up, surprised at how much less pain I feel across my stomach. Heda’s balm must’ve worked. As Leon rises and sits on the bed beside me, I finally process where I am. There’s no mistaking the familiar decor or the sounds rising up from the floors below. We’re at the Crossed Keys in Tread.
“Is Lafia alright? And Phaia?” I ask.
“Yes, Mal’s looked at their injuries, and they’ll be okay. They’re both resting.”
I nod, satisfied for now, though I make a note to check on them later. Myworry about them reminds me of the last time I saw all of Leon’s soldiers together, and an old pain twinges in my chest.
“Leon, I’m so sorry about Eryx.”
He drops his gaze, and I see my pain mirrored in his face.
“He would’ve been proud to die protecting you, Ana,” he says.
I shake my head, unable to accept his words, his absolution. “If I hadn’t asked you to split up…”
“Then maybe even more of my soldiers would be dead. Things at the walls of Bastion were bad when I arrived. You were right in the sanctuary when you said they needed my help,” he says firmly.
I nod reluctantly. He’s right, but that doesn’t make the guilt go away—even if it does ease it. For now, I’ll let the topic go. I have a lot of questions, but I decide to give Leon an explanation first.
