On Death's Honor

Chapter 38: Bonosoli's Mission

To say I was moderately confused when I awoke was an understatement. My head pounded something awful, and my ankle was a stiff, swollen pain that objected with every slight movement I made.

And my ribs. Each breath made me wish I could be completely and utterly erased from existence.

A groan forced its way passed my lips before I had the chance to open my eyes. It was almost uncanny, waking up in a strange bed in a place I'd never been in before yet again. I hoped this wasn't going to become the new normal for me.

"For a woman old enough to be in her prime, you still very much act like a nineteen year old," clipped a very blunt, very annoyed Bonosoli, who sat next to the bed I laid on. "I am glad to see that necklace of yours only prevents you from dying. You can still have some semblance of sense knocked into you when needed."

Stifling back a yawn, I turned my head away, closing my eyes.

"Why are you here?"

I could feel the runkist's eyes study me. At long last, she sighed.

"You've gotten yourself into quite the mess." Then, when I didn't say anything, I heard her shift in her seat. "You fought Adria's Dream again."

"I told you last time. Rhoe is behind the attacks," I muttered.

"I know." Spoken in a whisper, as if it was something she didn't want to admit. Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that. I opened my eyes, heaving a a pained breath when I forced myself into a sitting position so that I could properly look at the ageless woman.

"You know?" I snapped. "And how long have you known, dare I ask?"

She passed a hand over her face, pulling her dark brown curls behind herself. "A few months."

"A few months?" I repeated. "You mean to say that after years of me trying to warn you that she's something more than a simple nightmare sent to plague me, you've finally come to the conclusion that I'm right months ago?"

"Wrenva-" she began. With just us two in the small, homely room, I had no issue cutting her off.

"She planted a demon in my head!" If I didn't know any better, Bonosoli nearly flinched. "Do you have any idea what it's like, to never know which thought is yours or that gods-forsaken creature? To spend over a decade dreaming about dying and being torn apart by your own flesh and blood only to suddenly find out weeks ago that every little thing you're feeling is real - that you now get to spend your nights waking up to cuts and bruises and fractured bones because the nightmares are fucking real?"

"You had an obligation," Bonosoli met evenly, her face a cold, emotionless mask - a mask I could see right through. "You should have reported the traver long before it awoke."

I started to scoff out a laugh at this, but then winced when my ribs reminded me that laughing was not a good idea.

"For what?" I challenged. "So that you or the council could decide if I should die by liquid fire or buried alive in paralyzing beetles?"

"You are lucky they decided not to do just that to make an example," she pointed out. "If you had dealt with it then, we would not be trying to figure out what escaped the nymphtan's alter." She tilted her head. "So many more people would be alive."

She said it so plainly, as if she meant to make a casual remark about the weather. I clenched my jaw, tearing my eyes away from her face.

"Forgive me if I was not willing to give the Circle four thousand years of my existence at the time," I remarked softly. "That is how the rates are, yes?" I briefly glanced at her. "One century per contract that remains unfinished should I die."