Page 34 of A Whisper of Cinders

I will let my eyes rest, only for a minute or two.

Then I will face whatever might come.

Only…a…minute.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Words flow around my ears, but I have a hard time picking them up. The voices are hushed, gentle. One male, the other female.

“…so fragile.”

“Now…rude, Conláed.”

I should probably move, see who is hovering above me and prove I am not fragile. But I don’t really care about that right now. I cling to that tranquillity I still feel for just a —

“She looks like a child.”

My eyes burst open. I beg your pardon?

I hear the clack of a tongue, at least someone shares my opinion. “You have no idea what she’s been through.”

My eyes slowly close once more, the utter fatigue still very present. Footsteps sound near my ears, the sound muffled.

“She looks exhausted, like life has been sucked out of her bones.” Can’t argue with that, I am exhausted.

“She is exhausted,” the female voice confirms. “It will take some…that. Can you…”

My ears don’t pick up whatever Conláed responds, but a warm hand moves underneath my cheek, pressing further until my head rests against a firm bicep. Another hand moves beneath my knees and before I know it, I’m lifted in the air, as if I’m just a little…

“…little feather. Where…to?”

Huh, these people can apparently read minds. Reading minds… Can you imagine?

“…first floor…only twenty-one,” The woman responds. Based on her voice, she seems nice, but she could also be a wolf in sheep clothes. I should keep my guard up. They are after all taking me to my cell, no matter how you put it.

Their voices become a low hum. I know I should open my eyes and pay attention to my surroundings, search for a way out. But with my head against a burning hot muscled shoulder, I can’t really be bothered and I’m oddly comfortable.

We walk for a while, it could be minutes or hours, I can’t really tell. The shoulder I rest against smells citrusy, like bergamot maybe and something deeper that resembles smoke and black pepper. Not a scent I would’ve combined myself, but oh, it smells divine.

The lighting seems to change, from a dark white light to a soft and warm golden glow. The only way I know I’m being carried up a set of stairs, is by the sound of shoes landing on the steps. My body doesn’t move an inch in the arms of the stranger.

“It’s the third one on the left.” The woman says, followed by the sound of a door opening. A wooden door, not iron. My cell doesn’t have bars? Huh. That’s something to worry about later.

Although the hallway wasn’t cold by any means, this room - or cell — feels even warmer. Conláed takes a few steps and lowers me to the ground. I grab hold of his T-shirt, I can’t help it. My knuckles dig into hard muscle. He stops moving.

“You’re okay, little feather,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble in my ear that vibrates through my whole body. “It’s time for you to rest.”

Rest? That doesn’t sound bad, I could use it. Reluctantly, I force my fingers to let go of the fabric and Conláed lowers me to the ground.

But instead, something soft touches my skin, no straw bed or hard, cold floor, but a mattress and a pillow. It almost makes me open my eyes again, but the bone deep fatigue is all consuming. And being unsure of how much rest I will get during my stay here, I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Maybe they give every prisoner a special, one time only treatment before they start with whatever punishment I deserve. Whatever it is, I will worry about it tomorrow.

“Shouldn’t I have brought her to the medical wing? She looks…sick.”

Again with the compliments! Since his name is so unique, and his opinions are unfiltered, I will definitely remember Conláed, if not by his scent alone.

“No, for now she needs rest. Her exhaustion is beyond the physical one. It’s mental depletion as well. I will send for Althea and let her know that Maily has arrived.”