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“I brought you soup.”
Karin had the decency to look nervous as she approached.
Misha coughed.
The sickness that was plaguing their camp had been mercifully brief thus far. Karin had been one of the first to fall ill, and now, she was on her feet again, helping those who were now sick.
Misha felt like death. Was this what she’d come to Thracia for? To lay on the ground in an enemy camp, too weak to do anything, her squad dead? The money she’d been promised was long gone. Instead, she was here, kept prisoner, tended by Karin.
Misha had known her before this. Karin had been one of the scrawny children who chased after the pegasus knights, one of the same that Misha had fed when she could, one of the children she had wanted to help.
Karin looked better now. Healthier. Rations were tight, and she’d filled out slightly since Misha had seen her last in Silesse.
Karin had her own pegasus now. Misha had seen her fight.
Misha couldn’t snap at Karin. Karin would snap right back at her, but Misha knew enough to recognize the way that Karin’s eyes watered when she tried not to cry.
Misha sat up slowly. She took the damnable soup.
“Thank you.”
It felt like knives scraping in her throat when she talked.
Karin smiled. She sat, tucking her knees against her chest. Misha quashed her irritation, then ate a spoonful of the soup.
It was watery. The vegetables were nearly mush--a miserable mix of whatever roots they’d found on the road and the meat that the still able hunters had been able to catch.
It didn’t taste like much, but it warmed her aching throat. It almost made her feel full.
Karin watched her.
“Are you going to sit there?” Misha scowled at her.
Karin faltered a little.
“I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.” Karin said, sitting up a little straighter. “I think they want me to talk to you.”
“You know I won’t stand for this kind of pity.”
Misha had never wanted--or needed--anything like this from anyone. She’d risen in the ranks of the pegasus knights on her own merit. She’d had to fight twice as hard as the others to escape her mother’s shadow.
...Karin was a part of what Misha had wanted to protect.
Misha knew what she needed to do. No matter how humiliating it was, she would have to help her captors. She would have to ignore her dead sisters, the way they’d fallen to the cause she would know fight for.
“I know you.” Karin spoke slowly, refusing to meet her eyes. “You were wrong to fight here, but you can help us now.”
Misha bristled at Karin’s words. She forced herself to take another sip of her soup.
It was humiliating, but Misha would bite her tongue.
Even sitting up like this was exhausting. Misha focused on forcing down more of her soup. She shouldn’t snap at Karin again.
Misha ate all she could bear. She extended the bowl. Karin took it.
“I’ll consider it.” Misha lay back down on her uneven bedroll, coughing.
“That’s good!” Karin sounded far too excited for her own good.
To hear her cheerful felt good.
“We’ll see!” Misha warned, muffling her coughing with her blanket.