Horde (Razorland #3)(19)

“I’ll take care of him,” I said to the girl.

She was my age, or thereabouts, with red hair caught up in a tall tail. Her eyes were dark brown, though, an interesting contrast. Boys would probably call her pretty, though her thwarted expression marred the overall picture. As I recalled, Tully had called her Maureen. After glancing between us and seeming not to like what she read, she stalked away with shoulders set.

“Thanks,” Fade said.

“You have to let me.” This time, I was prepared for his reflexive recoil.

“I know.”

I was about to suggest privacy when the runner returned, laden down with boxes. So the colonel is generous in times of need. That was a good sign for the refugees, I thought. Fade followed me when I collected the necessary supplies from the stockpile the girl had brought, just enough to tend his wound. Others required attention, and as I strode toward the back wall, Tegan went back to work.

Kneeling, I set down the salve and bandages, then beckoned Fade. He sat beside me, his expression grim. “What can I do to make this easier for you?”

“Just … be quick,” he said.

Hope

“I can do better than that,” I answered, as an idea struck me. From what I understood of his problem, being touched made him remember everything the Freaks had done to him and the pain came back, along with the shame and revulsion.

“What do you mean?”

“Think about the best thing you ever felt, the moment you were happiest. Fix that in your mind and don’t let it go.”

Fade studied me, a frown gathering. “It’s not that easy.”

“Try. It can’t make things worse while I bandage you up.”

“True enough.” With a deep breath, he closed his eyes. “Do it.”


For the first time, he didn’t flinch when I touched him, but I still did the job quickly, cleaning, smoothing on the ointment, then wrapping up the wound. He pushed out a breath as my hands dropped away. His gaze met mine, something new present in his dark eyes—hope.

“Was that any better?” I asked, sitting back.

“Incredibly, yes. I mean, it wasn’t good, but I could stand it. The memories flickered at the edges, and I kept shoving them back with that one bright moment, like you said.”

“What did you—” I cut the question, fearing the answer.

But Fade knew what I was going to ask. “The night after the cherry blossom festival. Holding you, kissing you. When you said you loved me … that was the happiest I’ve ever been.”

My heart compressed. “Love. Not loved. Nothing’s changed.”

“I have.”

“Not in any way that matters to me. I’m sorry you’re hurting, but even if I can never touch you again, it won’t change how I feel.”

“It won’t come to that,” he said with sudden determination. “I’m not letting the Freaks get the best of me.”

Deep down I was delighted to hear him say that. The Fade I knew didn’t accept defeat; he’d always fought—and won—against unbeatable odds. But I didn’t feel like I could put a limit on him or say the way he was acting was wrong when I hadn’t suffered the same pain. I could only stand by him and offer a shoulder, whether he took me up on it or not.

“I’m glad.”

“It will take time,” he warned. “I can’t wish this away. Believe me, if I could, I would.”

“I know. And we got by before, just thinking about touching.” Or I had, anyway. I hadn’t been bold enough to stroke his hair down in the enclave, but I’d spent a lot of time watching him and wondering what it would be like.

“The thinking might do me in,” he muttered.

It took me a few seconds to process what he meant, then heat washed my cheeks. So he missed it, too. “Well, maybe that’s a good thing.”

“I was dreaming about you. When they took me.” Since he was talking about it—when he’d said he would only tell the story once—that had to be good. “It was warm and lovely, and I half roused, thinking you were coming to me in the night. Since Frank was there, I was afraid to make any noise, afraid we’d both get in trouble. I was wrong, and then it all turned to pain.”

“I should have heard something,” I said, clenching a fist.

“Don’t blame yourself. You weren’t on watch.”

“But I knew there was a problem with the sentries. I could’ve stopped it. But I think you were right … neither of us can change what happened. We can only move on.”

“You know what bothers me most? I didn’t smell the one that took me. I’ve gone over every moment, and I should’ve scented the Freak. Why didn’t I?”

“We all should have,” I said, frowning. “But there was no stench the night one of them crept in and stole our fire, either.”

“So what does that mean?” Fade asked.

“Nothing good.” I was too tired to speculate this evening.

I didn’t bother asking where we could sleep. Answers might require waiting longer than I could stay awake. My body demanded I get prone at once. If I didn’t listen, I’d collapse, and though I might not be a Huntress, I didn’t want to be seen as weak, either. So I found a quiet corner near the back wall, away from the wounded clustered in the center. Fade and I would be fine on the floor with a roof over our heads; we’d slept in worse places.