Page 20 of The Curse of Golden Blood
"How long have I been unconscious?"
"A day."
Rage flared in my chest—hot, bright, consuming. That bastard had thrown me off a platform and then what, had second thoughts? Decided his little game had gone too far?
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked down at myself, taking stock of my condition.
"How did you fall? Did you get distracted? Did you slip?"
I stared up at her. "Kind of."
She put her hands on her hips. "You'd better start talking, Mira, or so help me, I will . . . "
I struggled not to roll my eyes. "I never thought I would say this to you, Pelbie, but please, calm down. Your face is going all red again. The fae can surely hear you shouting from here."
She deflated slightly, and crossed her arms. Then she began tapping her finger, an irritated rhythm beating against her forearm.
"We'll talk about this tomorrow." She settled the thin blanket across my chest.
Just then, the heavy stone door to the room swung open. It was silent as it parted, as though the hinges did not exist.
"Oh! You're awake!" A voice chimed in, light and musical, sweet like a nightingale. A fae woman stood in the doorway. This must be Lady Narietta. Zydar's younger sister.
Her short, dark hair was curled and glossy, held back by a jeweled circlet upon her brow. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her ears tinged with gold.
She wore a sleeveless, crimson red dress that glimmered faintly in the light. It was embroidered with threads of orichalcum, which formed swirls and patterns all over the fabric.
"I'm so glad you're awake! I've been so worried about you!" Narietta chirped as she strode into the room, her voice high and clear as a bell.
She clasped my hands in hers, enveloping them in her warmth. "You had quite the nasty fall."
Her eyes were a bright shade of red. Unlike Zydar’s eyes, the red of her eyes seemed light, almost welcoming. She smiled at me, revealing a set of sharp, pointed teeth. "How are you feeling?"
There was something unsettling about this girl. She seemed cheerful, but there was a strange edge to her voice, as if she were trying to mask some hidden intent. My mind flashed to Zydar’s illusions.
"I've been better," I said, attempting a weak laugh. I winced.
She frowned slightly, her brow wrinkling. "I apologize for the lack of healers," she explained. "We are, unfortunately, quite understaffed. The healers... well, let's just say they're quite occupied."
I felt my stomach twist, and not from pain. "What do you mean?"
Narietta shook her head. "Not to worry. You are recovering nicely. And your dear friend here," she paused and smiled at Pelbie, "well, she's doing a very good job."
Pelbie nodded eagerly. I sighed and tried not to think about the ache in my ribs.
"Why am I here?" I sat up a little more, and looked around the infirmary.
"Don't you remember?" Narietta asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and cocking her head. "You—"
"No, no. Why am I in the infirmary? Why am I alive?"
"You are far too perceptive for one so young." The bright smile faded. "Our illustrious warlord spared your life."
"He threw me off the platform first, then he spared my life."
Narietta considered me with those big red eyes and I felt a sense of unease settle into the room.
"I'm sure my brother has plenty of reasons for his actions. If I had to guess, I'd say he thought you worth saving. Or perhaps he simply finds you fascinating. You've certainly gotten under his skin."
