Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Framed in Shadows
Claire's POV
The air in the infirmary was too still.
My boots barely made a sound against the cold tiles as I stepped through the doorway, but I still flinched, like even silence could betray me tonight.
The dim glow from the wall fire bathed the room in a golden haze. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago—except him.
The comatose warrior lay motionless on the cot near the far wall, his chest rising with shallow, mechanical rhythm. I hated how still he was.
How it made my own body itch with guilt. I’d tried to save him. And maybe, just maybe, I still could.
I approached his bedside slowly. His name was Orrin. Young. Loyal. His family had been among the few who didn’t look at me like I was a walking curse.
Now he was stuck somewhere between life and death, because of me.
I sat on the edge of the cot, gently curling my fingers around his limp wrist. Still warm. That had to mean something. My other hand hovered over his forehead, fingers twitching with the instinct to pull the sickness from him. But I didn’t. I’d already tried. And whatever I’d done had backfired.
A rustle of paper snapped me out of the quiet.
My eyes dropped to the side of his mouth.
There, tucked between his lips—barely visible—was something… dark. I leaned closer. My breath caught.
A leaf.
Burnt around the edges. Crumbling slightly. Not just any leaf, but the leaf. From the redroot plant. The same one I used to make the antidote. But the twist of it was wrong. I never rolled it like that. I never burned it.
I reached out with shaky fingers and tugged it gently free from his mouth.
“No,” I whispered, dread sinking in my stomach like a stone. “I didn’t do this.”
Orrin stirred. Barely. Maybe it was just my imagination. But that didn’t stop the weight of what I was holding in my hand.
Someone had come in here after me. Someone had tampered with my treatment. And whoever it was, they wanted it to look like I did it.
A slam echoed behind me.
I whipped around—heart lunging into my throat.
Blake stood in the doorway, eyes glowing with fury, hair tousled like he’d stormed out of bed. His chest rose and fell like he’d run here. And that scent—cinders and pine—swirled into the air like smoke around my skin.
“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was a sharp crack in the quiet room.
I rose to my feet, tucking the burnt leaf into my palm before he could see it.
“I came to check on him.”
“Midnight checkups now?” His gaze flicked to Orrin. “Or are you here to finish the job?”
My throat tightened. “Don’t.”
“I warned you, Claire.” He stalked toward me. Each step deliberate. Dangerous. “I told you to stay out of this room. I trusted you to wait.”
“I am waiting,” I hissed, stepping toward him. “But someone else isn’t.”
He stopped, too close. The heat off his body curled around me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I hesitated.
His eyes dropped to my fist. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
God, the way he said it—low, guttural, like it hurt him to say it—made me want to scream.
“Someone else tampered with him,” I said, lifting my hand. The leaf uncurled slightly in my palm, blackened and fragile. “This wasn’t me.”
He stared at it, but I couldn’t read his face. Not his expression. Not his thoughts. His jaw twitched, like he was trying to decide between belief and betrayal.
“I didn’t use anything burnt when I tried to help him,” I added. “You were there, Blake. You saw what I did.”
His gaze locked onto mine. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
“You think I’d sneak in here just to hurt him again?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.” His voice cracked. Just slightly. And that hurt more than all the suspicion. “People are dying, Claire.”
I stepped forward. “I know.”
“I can’t afford another mistake.”
“And I can’t afford to be your scapegoat every time something goes wrong.”
His eyes flashed. “That’s not what this is.”
“Isn’t it?” I tilted my head, heart racing. “Then what is it? Because I’m starting to think you’d rather believe the worst of me than admit something else is going on.”
He didn’t move. But the tension between us thickened, pulling tighter like a noose around my ribs.
“Blake,” I said softer. “Look at me.”
His eyes locked onto mine. And for a second—just a second—it was like everything else fell away.
“I didn’t do this.”
He didn’t answer. But his hand rose slightly. His fingers brushed the back of mine, still holding the leaf.
I froze.
It wasn’t a firm touch. Just a whisper of contact. But I felt it everywhere.
“Why do I want to believe you?” he said, voice like gravel under moonlight.
“Maybe because you already do.”
His hand lingered.
My breath caught. My pulse thudded so loud I could barely hear anything else. My skin burned beneath his touch. A thousand unspoken things hovered between us. All of them dangerous. All of them forbidden.
But I didn’t pull away.
He leaned closer.
His scent, that mix of fire and earth, invaded every inch of my body. His mouth hovered near my temple. One more inch and he'd—
No.
I stepped back.
His hand dropped. The space between us snapped open like a wound.
“I can’t,” I whispered, voice shaking. “You don’t even know if you trust me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.” I forced a bitter smile. “And that’s fine. I don’t blame you. But I won’t be your burden and your craving, Blake.”
I turned away. I had to. My chest ached like someone had driven a stake through it.
But I didn’t make it far.
“I’m not done,” he said.
I stopped, his voice low, almost desperate. And I hated how much I wanted to turn back.
“You shouldn’t have come here tonight,” he said behind me. “Now they’ll use it against you.”
My fingers curled. “Let them try.”
I moved toward the door.
But then he said, “Claire.”
I turned.
He was holding the burnt leaf now. Turning it in his fingers, jaw tense.
“There’s no way this got here on its own.”
I nodded once. “Which means someone’s framing me.”
“No.” His eyes lifted. “They already did.”
I only nodded and left the room, unable to think of anything else to say to that, because things had just become more dangerous.