A few minutes sitting beside the fire with her toes pointed toward the flames helped feeling to return fully. As she stared into the hungry orange-red flames, she thought of Great Kingdom, of Imtal, of her father, and she renewed her vow that one day she'd make the Tyr'anths pay for all they had done. They'd murdered her father, sacked Imtal, and made it so she may never be able to return to her beloved kingdom. She told herself they would pay a hundred fold for that and for every transgression since.
Her anger was so wrought and raw it brought fire to her hands. Fire that she could only wonder at as it swept up her arms and down her torso. She jumped up when the chair beneath her burst into flames.
Thinking quickly, she doused the flames with the water from the bucket. She was drowning the last of the flames when the door opened and Xith entered.
She turned around, handed Xith the bucket as if nothing had happened. "Can you fill this so I can wash up?"
Xith stood in the doorway. He was about to say something but Adrina waved him out.
"Hurry," she said. "I was just about to start cooking."
A trap door in the far corner led to a cellar where Adrina gathered foodstuffs for the day's meal: long orange tubors, thick dark roots, and a large chuck of frozen meat. The tubors and roots went into the hot embers. The hoar hound shank went on the spit over the fire.
As she was wiping her hands on a long cloth in her bedroom, she caught sight of herself in her looking glass--one of the few possessions she'd escaped Imtal with--and what she saw frightened her. The face looking back at her was gaunt and pale. Her long, dark hair was a flyaway mess and there were long lines of dirt on her face. Her green eyes were bloodshot and swollen.
Her eyes lingered a few more heartbeats on her reflection and with each passing moment her alarm deepened. She tried to coax the terror from her eyes, but found she couldn't, for she knew too well what she saw. It was the look of one with the wasting sickness.
"Adrina?" Xith called out. "How are you feeling today? You seemed so exhausted yesterday."
Adrina didn't reply. She heard Xith set the water bucket outside her door and walk away, so she retrieved it and poured some of the cold, clean water into the washbasin beside her bed. She washed herself with a cloth she dipped and rinsed in the bowl. The icy water was surprisingly invigorating and soothing today, especially when she pressed the cloth to her face, for it seemed to suck the hurt from her eyes and the heat from her brow.
She went back to the bedside table and took up the looking glass, holding it up to look at herself again. Her hands trembled. She'd done her best to hide her illness, but now it seemed that was done.
She'd seen too many others die not to know what was ahead. Her days remaining were numbered. The count of the digits on her hands, if she was lucky. Noman had lasted many weeks, but he was a great exception. As an immortal, Xith said he perished only because his magic had been extinguished.
She dressed quickly. A large trunk in front of the bed held her belongings. Riding outfits and clothes that she wore every day. Books that had been in her family for generations. Dresses that she would never get to wear. Leather satchels with what remained of the crown jewels inside. A sword and dagger in their sheaths that were the smaller siblings of Truth Bringer, the fabled 2-handed sword wielded by her brother, Valam. A large square box containing a myriad of things that a lady needed to make herself look more attractive.
Seeing the box gave her an idea and she held up the mirror again to study her face. She put a finger to the dark circles under her eyes, hiding them momentarily. She touched a flat hand to her pale cheeks to see what she'd look like with some color.
Afterward, she lugged the box of potions, lotions and perfumes to the bedside table. While staring into the looking glass, she painted her face, brought color and life back, covered the dark patches beneath her eyes.
Pleased with the result, she smiled, a thin smile from thin lips on a thin face.
"Adrynne, I know you are there," she said, while looking into the mirror. "Tell your master that when I die he gets nothing."
An answer came swiftly and unexpectedly. Coarse laughter followed by a whispered voice in her ears. "When you die, your servitude begins. You've given your soul to the dragon and not your life. Surely, by now you know this. Has not the Watcher told you as much?"
Adrina dropped the looking glass, her hand going to her mouth. The mirror shattered against the hard wood floor. She gasped, sucked at air that suddenly seemed to be gone from the room.
"That can't be. That can't be."
Adrynne ripped her way out of Adrina's flesh while Adrina cried out in pain. "I would not lie about such a thing. If fate does not get you, the marks will. One way or the other, you will be his servant."