Nineteen
Sithe
I do not feel well.
Catarine ends the call with the captain and sits in silence.
Do her insides clench? Does her stomach churn like she’s digesting fire? Does she not feel the need to peel off her skin, burst forth blades, cut through swaths of enemies and demand we remain together?
She eventually stands and exits the communication panel. Her beautiful brown irises meet mine. I’m sitting upright now, silent and blades neatly contained, atop the resting nook.
She pauses and links her fingers. “You heard.”
I came out of a sound sleep at her change in tone. From the moment she greeted the captain, I listened.
“Your supervisor’s coming, and the Vanadisans will be here in two clegs.” She leans a hip against the cool tile of the closed brazier. “Vanadis is where I was head
