Praetorian Rising, стр. 34
Vesyon gave Theo one last look before wearily turning his attention toward Camille. "There are a lot of things I can't explain," Vesyon began. "You understand the importance of that, right? That it's for your own good?"
She took a minute to register his words, the same ones Peter had said the first day she woke up. "Whether it's for my own good or not, I'd like to have the choice to decide my own fate." Camille finished eating her squirrel meat and tossed the bone onto the ground. "So no, I don't understand the point of keeping valuable information from me. I just want to know where I come from. I want to know what I am. I want to know who I was before I woke up in Peter's home. Is that so much to ask?"
Vesyon's heart appeared to break a little at her words. His face scrunched in what looked like pain, but the emotions vanished as quickly as they'd appeared, and his visage was once again impenetrable.
"I'm sorry man, but I'm with her. She deserves to know," Theo said, his eyes hooded with defiance. "I should be allowed to tell her—"
"No!" Vesyon roared. "Camille—we aren't keeping information from you. We're protecting you from an uncertain reaction. We want you to remember your past at the right time, when you're ready."
"And if I don't remember things on my own?"
"You'll know everything you need to when the time is right," Vesyon cut back. His voice didn't carry an ounce of emotion, but his eyes were filled with concern saying everything his words couldn't. Despite the harsh, dry tone, Camille saw an undercurrent of tenderness there.
Vesyon cared about her, and despite his use of manipulation to pull her away from Peter and Lunci, she trusted him. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her, those grey, storming eyes filled to the brim with honest concern, or maybe her intuition was feeding her a long-forgotten memory.
"A year ago, you brought me to Peter's. Right?" Camille asked.
Vesyon's lips pressed into a hard line as he nodded, his hesitance igniting Camille's curiosity that much more.
"Why?"
"The why isn't important; it had to be done. You are extremely vital, Camille, in ways I can't even begin to explain. Peter was the only one I could trust to watch over you while I solidified our plans. Few people know anything about what happened to you back in—"
Without warning, Vesyon's head snapped up in attention. An intense, primal awareness slipped over his features as he crouched, ready to attack with a blade in his grip. "We need to leave. Now," he ordered, tossing his pack over his shoulder. He kicked dirt and wet leaves over the fire, causing the flames to plume into a swirl of white smoke.
Camille saw it then, a lazy swirl of ashy smoke twirling up into the stars, the signal of life undone. The bitter stench of burnt flesh filled her nostrils. It smashed into her system like a tidal wave, vibrant reds and flickering orange, a tapestry of horror laid out before her like a grotesque masterpiece. She shook her head, pinched her eyes closed as hard as she could but the smell of death increased.
"Camille!" Theo barked at her.
Opening her eyes again, she looked up to see the swirling trails of smoke had vanished, the bitter stench and canvas of endless red having disappeared from sight.
"Grab your things," Theo commanded, while Camille remained sitting in a haze. He tossed her a bag and several loose belongings, and she fumbled with them, hands shaking at the men's urgency.
"Camille," Vesyon barked from the distant tree line. "Let's move, they're gaining on us!"
Glancing up across the misty wooded expanse, she saw a group of soldiers charging toward them through the foggy haze dressed in full black from head to toe. Their armor shone dully in the evening atmosphere, a chinking tune of impending doom sounding out with their horses' every gallop. Strips of red leather in two straight lines encircled their right bicep: the mark of a High King Equestrian.
"The High King's Guard?" Theo snarled. "They're far away from home."
Vesyon pulled his sword free of its scabbard, and it appeared to Camille that running was no longer an option. They didn't have time; they would have to stand and fight. Camille had never engaged in hand-to-hand combat against a person before. The idea of killing another Asperian bothered her, but she had no other choice. She wasn't a murderer—she was a Praetorian protecting herself. Wasn't that something different?
As the men swarmed around them, Camille waited for the warmth to fill her, for the energy to flood her system, but nothing happened. In her moment of hesitation, her Praetorian abilities failed her. Doubt crept in, a horribly cold and debilitating feeling that rendered her arms and legs useless.
Vesyon moved first, slicing his blade swiftly across the torso of the first soldier to arrive. The man fell with a thunderous crash just as Theo angled in front of Camille, taking on three more soldiers at once. She was quickly left to her own devices, cowering on the ground, hands still gripping her pack, unable to move.
"Hello, little girl," one of the soldiers mocked, entwining his fingers in her long red hair. He yanked her head back so that she was forced to look up at him. The sour stench seeping through his leather chest guard hit her in the face like a charging predator, harsh and unyielding. His heart was pounding, every thud ringing like a battle call in her ears. He wasn't a weak man by any means, and his hands alone looked as though they could crush a man's skull.
She screamed inwardly at herself to move, to act, but her body steadily ignored her. What was going on?! She was Praetorian for