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Her father didn’t notice. Kamaria gave her report, like always, and even though her mind was on her broken ankle the whole time, he didn’t notice. She’s had practice walking on things like this. Plenty of practice. All she had to do was make it in and out of his tent without limping, ignoring the searing pain streaking up her leg with every step. He didn’t realize she was injured, which means that she doesn’t have to get punished for it.
Or so she hopes. She still has to walk all the way through camp to her own tent, though, and before she makes it halfway, Roderick makes a trip in and out of the Commander’s tent, as well. She can nearly feel his eyes boring into her from behind. As much as she hates to admit it, Roderick knows her. He’s seen her at her most vulnerable too many times to count over the last decade. And if anything, he knows very well what she looks like when she’s injured.
All of her focus is on walking normally. She can’t look anything but perfectly normal, because he will notice. The pain doesn’t matter. Failing at this will mean much, much more pain, so this is nothing, this can be ignored, she’s so close to making it to her tent.
Footsteps approach from behind, then he’s standing directly in front of her, a smirk on his ugly face. “Ah, half-breed. You thought you could get away with it, couldn’t you?”
No. Deep down, she knew she couldn’t. She’d just…hoped.