Page 107 of Untempered
Just like Beatie, when Audrey finally hit the ground, she was shaking and breathing heavily.
“Show yourselves,” the man above the gate called.
He was on the other side, away from the little lady’s makeshift grapple. Hoping we wouldn’t need to explain that, I grabbed Chay’s torch and strode over to the horses, holding the light to my tabard. “You’re looking for us,” I called up.
A moment later, I heard the wheel turning.
I glanced over in time to see the lady knock away the hand Chay offered to help her up, standing on legs that visibly shook. She went to her horse and took hold of the saddle horn, then let it go and took the reins, still gulping in air and expelling it in what could’ve been pain or distress.
“We’re going to get her,” I promised Audrey, feeling the cold biting at my fingers. The ground was soft beneath my boots, though, not frozen. I’d heard tales of it opening and swallowing men whole. “It’s going to be okay.”
Still making those strained noises, she nodded and led us into the city, her hands white-knuckled on her handmaid’s reins.
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
AUDREY
“The One does not remove the pain we feel, but he gets us through it.”
~ The Book of Bread and Salt
The first thing I heard was the crackle of fire. My whole body hurt, and I felt tender to my bones.
Vaguely, I recalled the empty barracks, the unanswered call for help, and the rage that dragged me away from anything resembling sense. I remembered yanking open doors. I didn’t remember screaming, but my throat ached. Had there been people? I recalled finding the Captain, the way his cock had gleamed in the torchlight, and how he’d clutched his pants trying to hide it, but I had no idea who’d held the torch or dealt with the man.
But I knew he’d refused to help.
And I knew Thomas had hugged me.
I pulled the blankets up higher and wanted to weep, but I just felt hollow. I’d made a fool of myself. I didn’t need to recall every moment to know that whatever had happened, it’d been public.
Killing the Captain would certainly solve issues around how to deal with that going forward. Not that he’d want to talk, I suspect. Not considering who had been in his bed. You didn’t just bone the wife of one of the most influential merchants in La’Angi and get away with it. Especially with yourbootson. Who left their boots on?
Disgusted with my own brain, I threw back the blankets. The fire was full of bright coals, and a little note was folded in front of a jug of cordial. Some hard bread and cheese sat beside it.
I went for the note and poured myself a drink, ignoring the discomfort in my body and mind. In plain, somewhat blocky script, it read:
Audrey,
Thomas and I have gone to get Isolde. We’ve a group of volunteers. Situation in keep is bad. Stay in until we return. Eat and drink, even if you don’t want to. You need it.
Kaelson is taking over running the hospital for a few days to give us time.
C.
My head spun. I turned the page over, but that was the entirety of the message. I tossed it into the fire and looked at my fingertips, pleased to see that while they were scratched, they weren’t a shredded mess the way they’d been the first few times we’d practiced scaling the wall deep in the garden.
I’d been taught to always have an escape plan ready. But escape didn’t always mean getting away, and I hadn’t understood that at the time. Sometimes, escape meant finding a different way forward.
I would’ve gotten over that wall if that guard hadn’t come along. I could’ve done it.
I’d lost myself afterward, but in the moment? She would’ve been proud of me.
The cordial sat heavily in my stomach. I stood, but it was no better. I drew a bath and took my time about it.
That mage who’d come for Ylva had manipulated wind and storm alike, but that wasn’t magic I knew about. Magic-manipulated machines. They worked to make processes simpler or more efficient. Old magic might’ve interacted with the world, but no one knew how to use that anymore, and the cost was paid in blood. Had the mage been using blood magic?
My intuition saidno,but I couldn’t put my finger on why. I let the thought rumble around in my head as I filled my bath. I wondered what it would cost to fuel that sort of spell. If one paid in blood, how much blood was required, and did it need to be fresh? What if it spilled and soaked into the ground? Would corpses work?
