Daughter of the Flames by Zoe Marriott

Author:Zoe Marriott
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781406336436
Publisher: Walker Books Ltd.
Published: 2011-07-06T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Two weeks later, I woke abruptly from a dream – a terrible dream – about Surya. The bedroom was close and still, darkness lying against my skin as clammily as the sheets twisted around my legs. I made a tiny noise of misery as I tried to force the images of death from my mind. I was panting, covered in sweat. Sickness rolled greasily in my gut.

Cautiously I pulled myself up into a sitting position. The room shifted dizzily around me as I moved – then my stomach heaved and I only just had time to drag the pot from under the bed before I vomited messily.

When the heaving stopped I was slumped over the side of the mattress, shuddering, sweat trickling along my hairline, disgusted with myself. I pulled the sleeping tunic over my head and wiped my mouth on it – it made little difference, as the cloth was already splattered – then screwed it up and threw it away from me as I slithered down onto the cold floor. Groggy as I was, I now realized that this sickness could not be the result of a nightmare, however horrible. I was ill. I hated being ill.

I crawled on hands and knees to the chest at the end of the bed to pull out a pair of half-length cotton trousers and a fresh tunic. Once I had fumbled them on, I climbed up the nearest bedpost like a puny vine and then, desperate to get away from the vile smells of sweat and sick, staggered across the room to the door.

A sharp intake of breath made me jump as I stepped out onto the covered mezzanine overlooking the courtyard. I squinted through the darkness to see one of Sorin’s gourdin leaning idly on the mezzanine rail, his helmet under his arm. He was probably supposed to be patrolling the area outside my and Sorin’s adjoining rooms. He certainly stood to attention very quickly and saluted me snappily. I straightened up, hoping the darkness would hide my damp, pasty face from him, as it hid his expression from me.

“Alrik, is it?” I croaked.

“Yes, my lady. Is everything all right?”

“I just need some fresh air. Don’t mind me.” I walked carefully away. I could feel his gaze on my back, and concentrated stubbornly on placing one foot before the other, until I rounded the corner out of his sight. Then I let myself lean against the rail as he had done, breathing slowly, deeply, trying to suppress the bubbling that wanted to rise up in my throat. Holy Mother, I hate being sick.

Gradually the cool, fresh night air began to work on me, and the shivering and nausea began to subside a little. I could smell night-flowering jasmine from the courtyard below, and the warm straw and manure scent of the stables. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness now, and I absently traced the lines of wall, roof and paving that were not quite familiar to me yet.

In a minute I would go back to bed.

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