Chapter 11
Fenn watches Irelle curled on her cot, crying. He hadn’t thought she was capable of crying. He wishes he could erase whatever had happened in the arena from her mind, healing her, stopping her tears. But he can only heal physical wounds, not emotions. He would have done that to himself already if he could.
The sound of fighting leaks through the roof. He sits there, bored for hours as his ears ring with the sounds of death and fighting.
His thoughts turn to his mother, teaching him the art of archery. Her smile of encouragement, her teasing manner, her reassurance that he would be the best archer that ever lived. He remembers her burnt out body, her golden hair burnt black, her face unrecognizable through the burns. Her smile gone forever, her eyes empty of sparkle. He swears again that he will avenge her.
He looks at Krade, his hands still on fire. Fenn tries to connect him with a face he knows. Then he remember where he’s seen Krade before. Krade had been the blacksmith’s son, the boy who was beaten by his father. The boy his mother had healed over and over. The boy with the scar on his cheek.
His mind fitting the pieces together, he imagines Krade getting angry at his father, losing check of his temper, and burning down the entire village. It makes sense; Krade had to have been the cause of the fire. Krade had killed his mother. Fenn feels anger boiling in his chest, hate overtaking his judgement. If he and Krade fight, Fenn will have his revenge.
Krade is a murderer.