“
It was not like her to lose her senses. The ability to drift was beaten from her long ago. But Sorasa drifted now, pacing the beach.
She did not hear the shift of sand, or the heavy scuff of boots over the loose stones. There was only the wind.
Until a strand of gold blew across her vision, joined by a warm unyielding palm against her shoulder. Her body jolted as she turned, nose to nose with Domacridhan of Iona. His green eyes glittered, his mouth open as he shouted something again, his voice swallowed up by the droning in her own head.
“Sorasa.”
It came to her slowly, as if through deep water. Her own name, over and over again. She could only stare back into the verdant green, lost in the fields of his eyes. In her chest, her heart stumbled. She expected her body to follow.
Instead, her fist closed and her knuckles met cheekbone.
Dom was good enough to turn his head, letting the blow glance off. Begrudgingly, Sorasa knew he had spared her a broken hand on top of everything else.
“How dare you,” she forced out, trembling.
Whatever concern he wore burned away in an instant.
“How dare I what? Save your life?” he snarled, letting her go
Sorasa swayed without his support. She clenched her own jaw, fighting to maintain her balance lest she fall to pieces entirely.
“Is that another Amhara lesson?” he raged on, throwing up both arms. “When given the choice between death or indignity, choose death?!”
Hissing, Sorasa looked back to the spot where she woke up. Heat crept up her face as she realized her body left a trail through the sand when he dragged her up from the tide line. A blind man would have noticed it. But not Sorasa in her fury and grief.
“Oh,” was all she could manage. Her mouth flapped open, her mind spinning. Only the truth came, and that was far too embarrassing. “I did not see. I—”
Her head throbbed again and she pressed a hand to her temple, wincing away from his stern glare.
“I will feel better if you sit,” Dom said stiffly.
Despite the pain, Sorasa loosed a growl. She wanted to stand just to spite him, but thought better of it. With a huff, she sank, cross-legged on the cool sand.
Dom was quick to follow, almost blurring. It made her head spin again.
“So you saved me from the shipwreck just to abandon me here?” Sorasa muttered as Dom opened his mouth to protest. “I don’t blame you. Time is of the essence now. A wounded mortal will only slow you down.”
She expected him to bluster and lie. Instead, his brow furrowed, lines creasing between his still vivid eyes. The light off the ocean suited him.
“Are you? Wounded?” he asked gently, his gaze raking over her. His focus snagged on her temple, and the gash there. “Anywhere else, I mean?”
For the first time since she woke, Sorasa tried to still herself. Her breath slowed as she assessed herself, feeling her own body from toes to scalp. As her awareness traveled, she noted every blooming bruise and cut, every dull ache and shooting pain.
Bruises ribs. A sprained wrist.
Her tongue flicked in her mouth. Scowling, she spit out a broken tooth.
“No, I’m not wounded,” she said aloud.
Dom’s desperate smile broke wide. He went slack against the sand for an instant, falling back on his elbows to tip his face to the sky. His eyes fluttered shut only for a moment.
Sorasa knew his gods were too far. He had said so himself. The gods of Glorian could not hear their children in this realm.
Even so, Sorasa saw it on his face. Dom prayed anyway. In his gratitude or anger, she did not know.
“Good,” he finally said, sitting back up.
”
”