Jonas hardly knew where to look as Raena leaned over him; the rounded, bandaged end of his thigh pressed against her shoulder as she stretched the muscles through his ass. That white bandage covered his leg. He knew it intellectually, and he could feel it as she manipulated it, and yet, when he looked at it, he couldn’t believe it. His leg didn’t look like that. His legs were powerful, whole. His body still believed so. When Raena had first lifted his thigh and maneuvered herself into place, he’d tried to straighten his knee to move his lower leg out of her way. He felt sick every time he was reminded of the truth.

  Pushing his leg as far as it would go, Raena leaned close, closer than even Llew had been in the last couple of days. So far, Raena had been the one to help him with his toilet. She’d shown Llew how to place a bed pan a couple of times, which left Jonas with a sense of helplessness and humiliation he’d never known before, but Raena was used to lifting bodies for such tasks, and had a strength Llew had yet to develop. And, of course, if Llew hurt herself in the process of helping Jonas, it lashed back at him.

  Llew wasn’t being complacent, though. Under Jonas’s guidance, she practiced squats and had found the heaviest bags in the room of junk to lift and strengthen her arms and core. He’d trained enough Karan and non-Karan soldiers to know what worked. Of course, back in Quaver the soldiers were provided with equipment designed for the tasks and space to move. Working in this cramped room with whatever could be gathered wasn’t ideal, but Llew was fortunate that – as they had learned when he had trained her in fighting techniques at Merrid and Ard’s farm – her body adjusted to the regime faster than anyone Jonas had ever trained. No wonder Aenuks made such formidable fighters for Turhmos.

  Llew wanted them to get going as soon as possible, get to an Ajnai. He’d never grow his leg back, but she was impatient to seal his wounds fully, and believed she could, somehow, return his Syakaran strength and speed. He wasn’t so sure.

  Standing back and laying his leg down gently, Raena smiled. “You have excellent flexibility that will suit you well in your recovery. How is your pain?”

  “Managed.” He was still taking the opiate, but trying to reduce the size and frequency of the doses already. He would need his wits about him on the road. And, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t know if he would ever stop taking the drug if he let it become more of a habit. He already craved the oblivion, even in his pain-free, lucid moments.

  “Good,” said Raena. “I sense a man determined to regain his independence.” She smiled again, her eyes kind. “Determination will take you far, but you will need help for a while, yet. Don’t let it get you down.”

  She was right. He struggled with a range of foreign emotions every time he had to depend on her or Llew, vulnerability the strangest of the lot.

  “You’re doing fine.” Raena gathered her medical supplies into her bag and left the room.

  “What do you want to do first?” Llew approached as Jonas sat himself up, letting the sheet and blankets fall off him. Raena had promised a change of clothes, but with Jonas largely bed-ridden they had yet to materialize, other than a pair of drawers tied with string. Some heat made it up from the lower level, but the room was still cold.

  “I’ll work on my arms. Even with a prosthetic I’ll be swingin’ on crutches for a while, at least.”

  Llew hooked herself under his arm to help ease him to the floor, then shuffled, stooped beside him, as he hopped across the room to the chair. Once he’d gripped the back of the chair, Llew stepped aside, as they had agreed, leaving him to find his own balance. She didn’t like watching him struggle – had said so several times – and kept having to stifle her urge to help, but he firmly believed he wouldn’t get any better unless he learned to look after himself. He was already much more capable, even after a couple of days.

  With small twisting and hopping motions on his foot, he swiveled around to put the chair behind him, pressed the heels of his hands onto the back for support, then set about lowering and lifting himself. It used to be that such exercise was for little more than a demonstration of what others could do to improve their strength, now it had his muscles trembling within a few repetitions. Llew set about picking up her bag of books. It built her own muscles and kept her from hovering, ready to catch him if he overbalanced. He found he was much less likely to do so if there was no one to catch him.

  A tap at the window had them both looking, startled. A small bird – a sparrow? – gripped the window frame, seeming to peer in at them briefly before it leaped away, flitting off again.

  Jonas almost laughed as the tension fell away. He looked at Llew, who returned his smile with an eye-roll. Being cooped up in this room had them both on edge. They resumed their exercises.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Steps sounded on the staircase.

  “We need to get you a shirt,” Llew said.

  “What? Don’t like what you see no more?” Jonas lowered and raised himself again, not letting a little light conversation get in the way of his rehabilitation.

  “Didn’t say that.” Llew paused, then lowered the bag again. “What about Elka?”

  “What about her?”

  Llew squinted and cocked a comical smirk, like he was missing her point, which he was. She shrugged and carried on with her weight training; bringing both her hands, weighed by the bag, to her chin, her straining tendons through her neck evidence of the effort required. Medical journals were dense with knowledge.

  “I’m sure she’s seen plenty o’ me in those little books of hers.”

  “Drawings are a bit different to the real you.”

  Jonas’s lip twitched in a self-loathing sneer. Indeed. The drawings of him always showed a tall, muscular man, more like how a Syakaran should look. The inaccuracies never used to bother him because he was the epitome of Syakaran, and whether or not others agreed had no bearing on the truth. It bothered him now.

  The footsteps made their way along the corridor, echoed by another set keeping pace. A polite knuckle requested entry.

  “Come in,” said Llew.

  The door opened and Elka stepped through, taking a moment to appreciate Jonas. He’d been blind to such appraisals before, neither needing them nor being offended. Now he didn’t know how to feel about it. The subtle smile told him Elka liked what she saw, but whatever she saw was a lie Jonas could no longer live up to. He felt diminished in the face of her false admiration.

  A man followed and passed Elka; tall, broad-shouldered, chiseled features – the sort of man Jonas more closely resembled when he appeared in comics, though paler of skin in the Turhmos fashion. He reached his right hand out to Llew, his left holding a pair of crutches, and a large tote bag hanging off his shoulder. Elka’s brother, Jonas guessed.

  Llew shook his hand, though her gaze never left his face.

  “Hi.” Her face lit in an unreserved smile, her eyes wide like she was trying to save his image for later.

  “Rowan.” His eyes sparkled over a smile hinting at humor.

  Jonas narrowed his own. A few days ago, Llew had greeted everyone with suspicion first. Sure, they had little choice right now other than to trust this family, but, still.

  As their hands parted, Llew hooked her hair behind an ear and looked down self-consciously. And was that—? Was she … blushing? Never had a woman in Jonas’s presence reacted to another man in such a way.

  Rowan turned to him, and Jonas swallowed down the bitterness, meeting the friendly grin with a calm smile, that he hoped camouflaged his gritted teeth.

  Rowan held out a hand and Jonas replied with a firm grip, putting a little extra effort in to cover his growing weakness.

  “You’re right. He is smaller in real life,” Rowan spoke over his shoulder to his sister as their hands parted.

  “He could still fold you in half in the blink of an eye.” Elka beamed with pride, like Jonas was her pet on display. A pet she hadn’t yet noticed had soiled itself.

  Turning back to Jonas, Rowan continued. “The Great Syakaran himself, eh? So much power in such a small package.” Rowan’s face dropped and he waved a dismissive hand in front of him, indicating Jonas’s groin. “Well, not … I mean, I’m sure it’s adequate. And, wow, I think I need to start again.” Rowan smiled and breathed to reset himself. He waved sheepishly at Jonas. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’ll be your assisted-mobility device provider today, and I’m most impressed by the tales we’ve read about you, and I’m real sorry this happened … to you.”

  Jonas didn’t know what to say.

  “I’d love to see a show of your speed.” Rowan looked at Jonas with the awe with which most people greeted him.

  Jonas tried to shrug off another kick from the reminder of what he used to be, but all he could do was glance down at his rounded stump. Weakened or not, he wouldn’t be running for a while.