Page 31 of To Touch A Silent Fury
He smiled obsequiously. “I insist.” Then to the boy: “The Cajimearan Suite.”
I bristled at the casual mention of Cajim. It was a centuries-old hurt for my people, and yet the Triad’s siege and subsequent claiming of our city still rankled through each generation. It was still a tale told to every child.
Then, I scolded myself. The Tastelands had Cajim and there was nothing I could do about it. This was aTriadtournament. My husband would most certainly be from one of these lands, and maybe even the Tastelands itself. I had to be less obvious in my politics, my sympathies, if I had any chance of claiming my power and having some sort of standing in our world.
The boy scurried and bowed, and my friend rolled his eyes. “I’ll meet you in the morning,” he said, squeezing my gloved fingers with his other hand. “Be careful.”
“I will,” I replied softly, staring up at his concerned face.
“Last time I left you, you were nearly poisoned.”
“The key word beingnearly.”
“It’s not funny.”
“Your boy is getting away,” I said, pointing at his supposed escort, already weaving away under the torchlight.
He dropped my hand and cursed under his breath. “Don’t drink anything.”
I laughed as he followed after the boy, glancing back over his shoulder at me in exasperation.
That was the special treatment he had been so desperate to avoid from me. I understood, and smiled as I waved him goodbye, his porter shuffling behind. They were soon lost into the night.
The foreman seemed surprised we were still there. “On with you, then. Your rooms are in the spectator’s wing.”
No escort for us. The Brotherhood had clearly not spent enough coin to earn anything close to a suite.
We walked slowly down the dock, and I glued myself to the old man’s loping gait, using the extra time to stare at the island. Its flora was similar to that of the Scentlands, its closest neighbour, but there was more green here. The vines were thicker, the trees lush with too many leaves, the shrubs untamed. A sandstone outcropping lay ahead; a low cliff, its rock face bare to us as it hid the jewel of the island from my sight like a curtain before a playing troupe.
The arena lay just around the corner.
But there was no use in darting away to catch an earlier glimpse of my Fate’s location. Thread Ersimmon had not let me out of his sight since the moment I stepped into the seamstress’ shop on the arm of Prince Brascillan. Not even Seth was permitted to escort me around Lavendell, but somehow, it hadn’t irritated me. The attempted poisoning had shaken me more than I wanted to admit, and the attention of the Thread gave me a semblance of reassurance over the last two days.
Ersimmon had claimed to know nothing of the plot, and the shock I felt on him convinced me well enough. Once Brascillan had bid us farewell, the Thread’s first question had been to ask if I had any enemies. At my raised brow, he had sighed. “Other than most of your unbound brethren, who would see you dead?”
I had responded that there were only six people capable of giving the order, and he had waited for me to explain.
“Before the Ceremony, no one knew my Fate would take me to the Isle de Courvin, and here to Lavendell Point. The merchant’s instruction was givenwhenmy Fate was drawn and not before. None of my unbound Brothers would have had time to get the message to the merchant before we arrived.”
He had already started to come to the same conclusion, but he let me continue.
“The only people who could carry the message ahead of us were the six men in the hall that dawn.”
He had leaned back. “You believe this is the work of the Threads?”
“One of you, or the Dragon Prince himself,” I’d replied. “The bound can use the messenger birds. He has his ruby wings.”
He had stiffened, then, and looked at me with piercing acuity. “Do not repeat that to anyone else. I mean it.”
I had listened to him, because it was the first time he hadn’t called me ‘girl’. His questioning had then turned to my perception of Prince Brascillan. He had clearly come to the same conclusion as I had, that Prince Brascillan was apt to win the contest.
Since that moment in the market, I had stayed in the Forebud Hope where possible, with the exception of one further dress fitting where I painstakingly pinned my cloak to prevent anyone from even glimpsing my hair.
Behind us now, our two porters carried our items along the stone path to the arena. One porter carried all of our essentials: a spare cloak, soaps and tools, travelling foods, and indoor shoes. The other, to my embarrassment, was entirely laden with two boxes filled to the brim with dresses for me.
The Games only lasted two days, and yet Thread Ersimmon had paid forfivedifferent dresses. I did not protest at the expense, though some of his choices had surprised me. I wasn’t sure if a Thread with so many spans to his name could be trusted with fashion.
A squire bounded past me, knocking my shoulder hard with barely a look back as he scampered around the corner ahead towards the arena. I rubbed the would-be bruise with a grumble, dropping my arm on the Thread. He tutted, and I regained my steady hold on him.
