Change of Darkness (The Change Series Book 3) by Jacinta Jade (best new books to read txt) 📕

at her immediately, the male had put himself in danger of being hit by any arrows fired at Siraay by the rest of his unit.

Which made them lower their bows.

Not by much—but enough that Siraay had already brought herself a precious instant to leap out of harm’s way if they did decide to fire.

But she needed them more vulnerable still.

So after crying out at the pain in her arm as the soldier had mistakenly gripped it, causing fresh blood to well up around his fingers, Siraay let herself reflexively reach out with her other arm to try to protect the injury and let her knees give way.

Now the soldier realised his mistake and attempted to shift his grip, so that, in the instant he let go of Siraay’s arm, she began to sink further.

Another soldier close by shouldered his bow and speedily stepped forwards to lend his assistance, managing to catch Siraay and frown as his incompetent friend at the same time.

The bows and arrows pointed in Siraay’s direction drooped lower.

Siraay allowed her head to sag as she breathed through the pain in her arm, her breath coming in great gasps.

‘Hold there.’

Her breathing almost paused at the command, which might have given her away, but she let her head sink further, even as blood streaked down over her wrist and ran in rivulets through the gaps between her fingers.

Then she heard someone kneel before her and felt a hand tilt her chin up. Gently but firmly. She let her eyes move upwards, allowing them to see without seeing anything for a moment.

‘Siray?’

She let the blurriness from her eyes clear with a blink or two and then focused on the face before her. ‘Roalger?’

Lieutenant Roalger.

He eyed her, and Siraay let his face swim in and out of focus, then breathed in as she allowed her gaze to sharpen again. She made feeble attempts to brush away the gentle grips of the soldiers supporting her.

‘Can’t stay. They’ll find me. Got to keep moving. Got to warn them …’

Roalger stretched out a hand to grip Siraay’s shoulder and direct her attention to him.

‘Siray,’ his tone was soft. ‘How did you escape?’

‘Got to warn them,’ she repeated, her voice nearly a mumble. ‘Got to warn the Resistance.’

Roalger’s grip grew more firm on her shoulder, and she saw him look up and away at someone else from the corner of her eye as she allowed her head to roll alarmingly. ‘Get the healer over here. Then bind the hands and arms of the prisoners and prepare to move.’

Roalger shifted to face her again. ‘It’s okay, Siray. We’ll get you out of here.’

‘Got to warn them,’ she mumbled again.

The kind lieutenant patted her shoulder. ‘I know. It’s okay. We’ve got you.’ He moved aside as a female came bustling up.

Then smooth, cool hands took hold of Siraay’s arm, and a new voice began speaking, identifying her injuries. ‘Tearing of the forearm tissue—animal bite. Shock, fatigue …’

Siraay ignored the female and, while pretending to stare dazedly over the healer’s shoulder, watched Roalger walk away to where a group of four soldiers were standing around a fifth figure, the lieutenant conveying instructions to his soldiers.

When Roalger moved off again, Siraay identified the prisoner in the middle as Pyron, his mask a silver shadow against his face as twilight covered the mountain slope.

The sergeant and the other soldier in Pyron’s unit were kneeling nearby with four more soldiers around them, their hands still raised.

Drosni was right. Pyron was known by his mask. The other two prisoners Siraay could leave behind. Necessary sacrifices, if it went that way. But Pyron … either she would manage to get him out of here, or the chief archon must die trying.

Or just die straight away.

Because that was the other option. She could just kill Pyron. Pretend to do it in a fit of rage. Then somehow break away from the Resistance once more …

Siraay was running options through her head when another figure moved into the small clearing, coming out of the trees from off to Siraay’s left and moving quickly towards Roalger.

Still playing the part of an injured escapee, Siraay couldn’t turn her head to get a better look and had to wait until the figure moved into her line of sight.

When he did, she couldn’t avoid sucking in a sharp breath, causing the healer tending her to ask if she was okay. She mumbled something about her arm, and the healer bent over it once more, allowing Siraay to peer over the female’s head and across the clearing.

A male was walking across the space, heading towards Roalger. His pace was brisk, determined, but not rushed.

It was the walk of a male who knew where all the pieces were on the board.

The walk of a leader. An experienced fighter.

It was Falir.

Old memories, hers but not hers, were scrolling through Siraay’s head, days of images passing through her mind in an instant.

But whereas the old Siray had only known Falir as a cook, new Siraay was re-examining those memories.

Falir, comfortably ordering everyone about in the meal tent, no matter their rank.

Falir, a bastion of knowledge about the Xarconians and Changing.

Falir, who had secretly helped train her former self with Honvil, the Resistance change master.

Falir, whose relaxed banter and manner had always been at odds with eyes that seemed to see everything.

Falir, whose hands had continuously been at the ready position, and which had always had something in them—ladle, jug, mug, plate.

Siraay watched the cook exchange a few brief words with Roalger, who then turned and gestured towards her.

The cook’s eyes met Siraay’s across the space between them, his gaze assessing every inch of her. The dirty gear. The rips in her clothing. Her injury.

He seemed to take her in from head to toe, measuring, evaluating. As if he was comparing two versions of her in his mind and analysing all the little differences he could identify …

Siraay glanced down for a moment, still playing the part of dazed and weary escapee.

That was when