Page 117 of The Incendiary

I rushed to the mirror beside the bathroom door to find my neck covered in fresh bruises. They really did resemble fingerprints. I swallowed the lump in my throat and rolled my shoulders to test any lingering pain.

“It’s my nightmares,” I told them.

They stared at each other in disbelief. “I don’t think⁠—”

“I’m fine,” I interrupted Mavic, unwilling to acknowledge what I already suspected was true. That whoever that beast called she was reaching me in my dreams. I didn’t want to lie, but there was only one person I wanted to tell, and he wasn’t here. “I’ve hurt myself before in my dreams.”

I had scratched up my own neck during a night terror in Warrich. I’d hurt Gavin’s hands, too, when he’d pulled me out of it.

Come back to me, Aryella.

My chest ached at the tender memory.

“Is it because of something that happened in Brinnea?” Mina asked apprehensively.

“No.” Those nightmares had been replaced with whatever this was.

Through the window, I saw the sun starting to rise. “Damn it!” I leapt to my feet and changed into my leathers. “I was supposed to be at a meeting before sunrise.”

Mavic released a low whistle. “He won’t like that.”

“No shit, Mav,” Mina whispered.

I laughed, despite the circumstances, then dressed with alarming speed. “I can handle him. I’ll see you later,” I called over my shoulder as I ran out of the door and through the courtyard.

The curtains were open in the fourth building east of the mess hall. From the outside, all I could see were thick sets of shoulders and men’s heads with short hair sitting around a table.

“Of course, the one morning I sleep past sunrise,” I grumbled, knocking four times, straightening my shoulders and refusing to let nerves paralyze me.

A man with light hair and sharp features opened the door, and I recognized him immediately as one of Alec Gerard’s cronies, Micah Sharpe. He was so tall and broad that I couldn’t see past him into the meeting room. He slowly dragged his icy blue eyes along my body. I cocked my head and my hip, silently questioning what he found so interesting.

“Let her in, Sharpe,” Elias called from inside.

He let me pass. I entered to find eight men, in addition to Elias, sitting around the table. A few faces were new to me. They all looked to be in their late twenties or early thirties. Valda leaned against the wall behind her commander. She was the only other woman.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Commander.” I cleared my throat and ignored the sweat beading on my neck. The room was stuffy, I had a lingering urge to vomit, and whatever pain in my chest that had distracted me during yesterday’s test still lingered.

Elias’s eyes narrowed, then slid to my neck. I’d forgotten to camouflage or cover up the bruises. By his shock, I guessed he saw it all.

Mercifully, he schooled his expression to appear bored. “Take a seat, Fera,” he ordered before giving one of the men a single nod. “Proceed, Pendrick.”

Pendrick gave me a distrusting glare. “Commander, this is sensitive⁠—”

“I said proceed.”

Reluctantly, Pendrick briefed the room on the status of troops along the southern border between Wymara and Tugaf. Last winter, a few bands of Insidions had gotten through—like the ones we had encountered west of Brinnea—but our forces had pushed them back south and were now holding at the border, which was especially strong here in the west.

The ball for Reverie was a few days from now. The third test was in two weeks. The consensus by the end of the meeting was that if nothing drastic occurred, the eight men in the room were to continue monitoring the path to the Caves, escort any messengers, and report any suspicious activity.

Once the meeting was over, everyone filed out. I stood against the wall to let them pass before turning to leave.

“A moment, Fera,” called Elias, stopping me.

I winced and bit back words of protest. If I didn’t comply, he might think I was hiding something. I calmly walked around the table. When I approached, he towered over me and zeroed in on my neck.

“What happened there?” His fingers grazed the bruising on my skin. Gentle, but not at all soothing. And entirely uninvited. When I flinched at his touch, his brow creased in concern.

“Nothing,” I snapped, immediately annoyed with myself. The man made my temper short, but I was a fool to let him.