Page 10 of Rogue's Pawn (Covenant of Thorns 1)

“Still too loud,” he said from the window. “And call me Rogue—that’s my name.” I snorted out a painful giggle and he paced into my view. “I take it that translated oddly? Show me a picture of what that word means to you.”

I pictured Johnny Depp inPirates of the Caribbean,scraped and bruised from escapades, a bottle of booze in one hand and a couple of girls in the other, wicked mischief on his face.

Rogue laughed, then winked at me. I found myself staring at his darkly glowing eyes.

“Not far off, really. You do envision detailed pictures—explains a great deal.” He sat on the bed again and smoothly withdrew the mirror from my hands. “Now to respond to what you were thinking while you examined your injuries, which I could quite clearly hear with no effort, since you have an unfortunate tendency to keep a most audible running commentary in your head. Yes, you can and likely will get an infection—I have no idea what the small beasties were that you were thinking of, though they sound most intriguing. Yes, we can wash you—believe me we’d love to—and we can stitch you up.”

“However—” and now he looked steadily into my eyes, “—it will hurt. Without magic we have no way to deaden the pain.”

No anesthetic, of course. Duh.

“Interesting concept, but no, no liquid that can be injected so you don’t feel the pain. Normally our healers work with a Familiar that specializes in pain removal—they’re quite good. And popular, as I’m sure you can imagine,” he added with an impish grin. An image flashed through my mind of a ball with furious endless dancing.

Wait—did I get that image from him?

“Yes, and you could hear more, if only you were quiet long enough to hear something besides your own internal—very loud—babbling.”

I pictured Johnny Depp again and smashed the rum bottle over his head, then smiled sweetly at Rogue, though I immediately regretted the searing pull on my neck muscles.

“Andthat,my little chit, is why we don’t dare take the silver off of you, and why it will take weeks for you to heal instead of an hour, if you don’t die first.”

Rogue stood, taking the mirror with him, took a few steps and paused with his back to me, the long tail of his hair caught in a leather tie, then spilling down in a perfect fall of jet. Tension rippled through his shoulders and I cringed. He was genuinely pissed. Maybe not just at me. Being as quiet and still as I could, I reached a finger of myself toward him…and caught an image of me in the aspen grove, tying a lock of my hair to a tree. Triumph. Possessiveness. Followed by…guilt?

What?I thought at him, struggling to sit up, ignoring the searing pain.What happened? Were youthere?

Rogue clapped his hands against his skull, dropping the hand mirror, which shattered on the unforgiving stone.

“By Titania, woman!” he roared at me. “Turn the volumedown!” His eyes blazed blue lightning, the thorns on his cheek accentuating the snarl.

I quailed, my head spinning dizzily. I had failed yet again. At some point, I could quit just reacting and get a grip.

I apologize,I thought in a whisper.

Rogue rubbed his temple and grudgingly nodded. “Better. And no, I won’t answer your questions until you demonstrate you can handle the answers. The very fact that you pulled that image out ofmyhead—and yes, you yanked it out from a deeper level than you ought to be able to—only further proves what your detractors claim, so you’d better get that control you keep envisioning and never do that kind of thing to anyone else because they will assuredly kill you on the spot.” His face was black lines frozen in ice. “Believe me, no one here would mourn your passing.”

Guess he wasn’t my ally then.

“No,” he confirmed. “You are a child in the wilderness. You are without friends.” He stalked toward me. “Your only hope lies in getting some level of strength back so you can be trained to be of some use, rather than a threat. Or a liability.”

“Now observe.” He stepped aside. “Can you see where I dropped the mirror when you so rudely and arrogantlyshriekedin my head?”

Yes.I shaded the thought with contrition.

“Better, but leave the emotion out.” Rogue waved his long-fingered hand at the shards on the floor, then the intact mirror was in his hand, the floor clean as if it never happened. He arched a knife-edged brow at me and set it back on some object across the room.

He clasped his hands behind his back. “That could be you—if only.”

If only. If I could keep my thoughts quiet long enough for someone to heal me.

How long?I whispered.How long would I have to keep my head clear?

He watched me gravely. “Five minutes, probably. And don’t you dare think that’s not a very long time because in this little interview you haven’t been able to be quiet for longer than ten to fifteen seconds at a time.”

True. I could kid myself I had the mental focus to not think of anything in all that time, but I didn’t. I had tried meditating, but I always starting thinking of things to do. Running conversations with people in my head.

“Well, at least you’re no fool,” Rogue commented, which didn’t sound like much of a compliment.

Could I just stay quiet long enough for the magical anesthesiologist to put me out?

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