Chapter 56: Ava

He slowly bent his knee, then straightened it again. His toes moved when he tried them, and when he ran a hand down his shin, he could feel the warmth of his own skin beneath his fingers.

Gwendolyn waited without interrupting him.

"How?" he asked quietly, looking from his leg to her face. "How did you do this?"

"With a great deal of effort," she replied. "And several weeks of work, as I told you. You can ask about the details later. For now, I’d prefer you didn’t undo all that effort by trying to move too quickly."

Frost nodded, then turned towards the edge of the bed and lowered his feet to the floor. The stone felt cool beneath them, and he remained sitting for a moment before pushing himself upright.

His knees nearly gave way.

Gwendolyn caught his arm before he could fall, and Frost grabbed the edge of the bed with his other hand, his heart suddenly beating faster. He hadn’t expected something as simple as standing to feel so unfamiliar.

"Slowly," she said. "Your limbs are restored, but you’ve spent weeks in bed. Give yourself a moment."

Frost remained still, waiting until his legs stopped trembling so badly. He had worked for a month to build enough strength to carry those monstrous packs, and now he could barely stand beside a bed.

The realisation was rather depressing, though he supposed having legs to be depressed about was an improvement over the alternative, which was him being dead.

Gwendolyn helped him take a few careful steps, staying close until he could manage without leaning so heavily on her. Once she seemed satisfied, she handed him a pair of simple slippers and gestured towards the door.

"We’ll keep the tour short."

Frost slipped them on, then looked at the plain clothes he was wearing. They were clean, at least, and he decided not to ask what had happened to his old ones. He remembered enough blood to suspect there hadn’t been much worth keeping.

Outside, a narrow corridor stretched in both directions, its walls made from concrete reinforced with metal supports. Pipes ran along the ceiling, and pale strips of light illuminated a row of doors.

Frost looked around as Gwendolyn closed the door behind them. "We’re underground?"

"Yes," she replied, beginning to walk at a pace he could manage. "And before you ask, no, I’m not telling you where the entrance is."

"I hadn’t asked yet."

"You were about to, no?"

Frost couldn’t really deny that, so he followed her instead.

They passed another open room with two beds inside, one occupied by a man whose arm was wrapped in bandages. A woman sitting beside him glanced towards Gwendolyn, then looked at Frost with curiosity.

"He finally woke up?" she asked.

"He did," Gwendolyn replied. "And immediately started asking troublesome questions."

"Good. Sounds like he’ll be fine."

Frost wasn’t certain how asking questions had become proof of his recovery, but neither woman seemed interested in his opinion.

He continued walking, keeping one hand near the wall whenever his left leg began to feel unsteady.

The corridor opened into a larger space with several tables and benches. A few people were eating, while others sat with equipment spread before them, checking straps, cleaning weapons, and sorting through small bundles of supplies.

Conversations quieted slightly as Gwendolyn led him past, and Frost found himself receiving considerably more attention than he was comfortable with.

None of them looked particularly surprised to see him, though.

They stopped near a doorway overlooking a training room, where two people stood facing each other on a worn section of floor.

A shimmering triagram flashed above one man’s body as he stepped forward, his movement suddenly becoming faster.

His opponent raised a hand, another triagram appearing before her palm as a thin barrier of earth rose to intercept him.

Frost watched the inscriptions with interest as he always did.

The sigils were different from the ones he had spent the past month studying, and he leaned slightly towards the doorway, following their arrangement as they shimmered.

He couldn’t read them, of course, but he recognised enough to begin wondering how the energy was being directed through...

"Careful."

Gwendolyn caught his elbow as his knee buckled, and Frost straightened with an embarrassed breath. He had been so distracted that he’d forgotten he was still struggling to remain upright.

"Sorry," he muttered.

She looked from him to the training room, then back again. "Interested in runes?"

"A little," Frost replied, though he continued watching until the next pair of triagrams faded.

Gwendolyn gave him a knowing look before gently steering him away from the doorway. "Then you’ll have something to talk to the boss about when he returns."

Frost glanced at her, a little more attentive now. "He teaches?"

"When he feels like it," she said. "But don’t get ahead of yourself. You still need to make it back to your room without falling on your face."

He looked down at his legs, then reluctantly followed her. It seemed even his dreams of learning runes had to wait until he could manage the grand achievement of walking down a corridor.

By the time they returned to his room, Frost was more than happy to sit down.

The short walk had left his legs trembling and a dull ache spreading through his lower back, though he tried not to complain while Gwendolyn helped him settle onto the bed.

After everything she had done for him, complaining about being tired felt a little unreasonable.

She left him with another cup of water and promised to have some food brought over. Frost thanked her, then remained sitting against the wall after she closed the door, slowly opening and closing his right hand.

He couldn’t stop checking it.

Every time he looked away, some part of him expected to find it missing again, and the relief he felt when his fingers moved was followed by an unpleasant recollection of how he had lost them.

He rubbed his shoulder through his shirt, trying to convince himself that the pain he remembered wasn’t the same as what he was feeling now.

For a while, he simply listened to the sounds beyond the door.

People passed through the corridor, speaking quietly, while the distant hum of machinery continued without interruption. It was strange to think that all of this had been happening around him for weeks while he remained completely unaware.

A soft knock eventually drew his attention.

"Come in," he said, straightening slightly as the door opened.

A beautiful, young woman with hair a rich shade of copper entered with a tray in her hands. She looked around his age, perhaps a little older, and wore dark clothing with light armour fitted over it.

She was also on the petite side, with a gap between her thighs, and very high, tight leather shorts that clung to her lower body quite tightly.

The shorts had straps that crossed over her exposed stomach and over her hips, with a dark crop top that began just below her delicate underboob.

Much of her armour came paired with the thick coat she was wearing over her attire.

Her appearance might have been a bit rough, but she was incredibly beautiful, easily matching, perhaps even surpassing the likes of Jennifer, especially with those beautiful, emerald green eyes.

Her gaze briefly moved over his restored limbs before settling on his face.

"You’re awake," she said, placing the tray on the table beside him. "Gwendolyn said you’d already been walking around."

"Not particularly well," Frost replied, looking at the bowl of food before glancing back at her. "Are you Ava?"

She nodded, and he found himself sitting a little straighter.

"Thank you," he said. "Gwendolyn told me you helped save my life."

Ava looked faintly uncomfortable with the gratitude. "Master was the one carrying you," she replied. "I mostly helped stop the bleeding."

"Well, I’m rather attached to my blood," Frost said, managing a small smile. "So, I appreciate that too."

Her expression softened by the smallest of margins, though she didn’t laugh. Instead, she moved the tray closer and made sure he could reach the spoon.

"He’s back, by the way," she said. "I came to see whether you were well enough to speak to him."

Frost glanced towards the doorway, suddenly much more attentive. "Your master?"

Ava nodded again. "He heard you’d woken up."

"Then, yeah. I’d like to meet him."

She left after telling him to eat first, and Frost took the opportunity to do exactly that. The food was warm, easy to swallow, and considerably better than most of what he had been eating in the slums.

Unfortunately, knowing that he might be expected to work here for the rest of his life made it rather difficult to enjoy the meal without wondering whether it was being added to his debt.

He was nearly finished when the door opened again.

Ava stepped inside first, followed by a tall man whose broad frame made the room feel noticeably smaller.

He wore a dark coat over simple clothes, and his gaze settled on Frost with an interest that was difficult to interpret.

"So, you finally decided to wake up."