FL - Chapter 27: Sif Wakes

Sif drifted between darkness and wakefulness, sinking beneath deep water before being pulled back to the surface. When she opened her eyes, an unfamiliar wooden ceiling swam into focus.

The room smelled faintly of woodsmoke. Warm bedding enclosed her, and warmth reached all the way into her skin.

She inspected the room at once. Plain but clean wooden walls, a table and several chairs, and a fireplace crackling nearby. No chains. No weapons in sight. Good.

She tried to move, but her body would not obey. Even a slight shift took everything she had. *Damn. I can't move at all.*

Then the memories returned.

The Cold Moon Tribe's destruction. Her parents and siblings murdered in betrayal. Her last brother dying to cover her escape and taking enemies with him.

She shut her eyes against the grief pressing on her chest. *At least I'm alive. I still have a chance for revenge.* She clenched her jaw and forced the tears back.

The door opened.

Sif turned sharply, expecting soldiers, nobles, perhaps the people who had slaughtered her tribe. Instead, a thin middle-aged woman entered carrying porridge and warm water. Steam rose from the tray.

"You're awake at last. Lucky child—you nearly died." The woman helped Sif against the pillows and held the cup to her lips. "Drink first. You have been unconscious for days."

After a brief pause, Sif drank. The warm water soothed her raw throat and cleared her mind.

"Easy now. You must have suffered terribly," the woman said, rubbing her back.

Sif said nothing.

"If our lord had not sent people to save you, the beasts would have eaten you." The woman kept talking as she tended her.

*Lord? A southern noble?* Sif's fingers tightened beneath the blanket, though her face did not change.

"Do not be afraid. Our lord is young, but he is a good man. He cannot bear to see others suffer. He even saves injured slaves. All of us drifters have received his care."

Sif's unease only deepened. A southern noble had taken her in. Everything she had been taught said Imperial nobles were cruel invaders who preyed on the weak.

*First, they must never learn who I am.*

Even after the fall of her family, the former princess of the Cold Moon Tribe remained valuable. Someone could use her as a political hostage—or send her to the imperial court as a noble's plaything. She would never allow it.

Escape was impossible. She could barely move and knew nothing of the land. She would die in the wilderness or be caught.

For now, she would play along. Watch, learn, and wait for an opening. Above all, she had to learn what sort of man this lord was. If the woman's praise was true, Sif might have room to breathe. If it hid cruelty, she would prepare for the worst.

Footsteps sounded outside, followed by a guard's announcement. "The lord has arrived."

Sif tensed, clutching the blanket. She expected a leering, perfumed noble. If he humiliated her, she would pretend to submit and wait for her chance.

The door opened, overturning every expectation.

The young man who entered had black hair, sharp features, and a tall, well-built frame. He looked barely twenty and wore simple but immaculate clothing. There was no cloying perfume, gaudy jewelry, or bloodthirsty air about him. His gaze assessed her without contempt, and something close to warmth rested in his eyes.

*This is an Ironblood Empire noble?*

He looked nothing like the greedy gluttons and cold-blooded butchers of her education, those arrogant men who treated northerners as animals.

She caught herself at once. *Do not be fooled by appearances.* He might merely be better at hiding his nature.

Sif lowered her lashes and watched him carefully.

(End of Chapter)