Page 113 of Untempered
As she spoke with Bernadette about the suggestions she and Kaelson had, I wandered through the quiet places in the kitchens that probably weren’t usually quiet, preferring to find patterns in the mayhem that was the heart of the castle rather than dwell on the night she’d screamed, smashed furniture, and tried to crush her skull with her own hands.
She loved Isolde. I could respect that. And everyone had their breaking point. Now I knew where hers was.
It wasn’t just the old magic tangling us all up that made me want to help her stopbeforeshe hit that point again. But, aside from a miracle to save Isolde’s life, I didn’t know how to do that.
From the open window that carried in the sea air, I could see Audrey’s tower and the smoke coming from the chimney. I thought of the woman up in that tower who, by all accounts, probably should’ve been long dead.
We started the slow walk back up to her tower, mission accomplished, and plan in place. Only then did her shoulders slump. She pulled her cloak tight about herself.
She was pale.
My heart sank.
It was strange, being in the middle of a crisis but having nothing to do and nowhere to go. I opened the door and held it as Audrey entered the warmth of the tower. She folded herself down amid her blankets, fluffing them around herself, her nose buried in old scrolls. She’d taken her gloves off to handle the reading materials, and I caught glimpses of dark nail beds.
She’d worn gloves a lot recently. Scarves, too, and fur-lined cloaks and caps. It was winter. I hadn’t thought anything of it, being the amazing guard I was.
If she died from the plague…if I did everything I could to defend her…I was a free man.
The realization felt hollow.
I looked at my whittling, uninterested. I wandered to the window, but the scene was dull. Heavy clouds filtered sunlight. Shades of gray as far as the eye could see. The words sat, unsaid, on my tongue.Why didn’t you tell me?
Because I’d given her no reason to tell me anything. Because I had no reason to listen. Both of those things were equally true, and yet they didn’t quite feel right. And I had no clue how to remedy it.
“Would you leave me?” I forced myself to look at her as she glanced up from her scrolls, her brows knitted. “If you left tomorrow, if Isolde was well and there was no plague, would you leave me?”
Her frown grew deeper. “I don’t know. You couldn’t come into the Matri’sion forest with us. I don’t know if your oath would let me go without you. If I escaped from you against your will, you’d be safe.”
A knot in my belly unraveled, and those warm whiskey eyes fixed on my collar. She’d abandon me tactically. For my own good.
“Should you ask me how I feel about it?” I prompted.
She blinked at me, those eyes flitting further up to settle in the vicinity of my nose. “Chay, I don’t mean to disregard your feelings, but you’re bloodsworn. Even in this scenario, youcannotgive me unbiased information.”
“I can tell you you’re being a shortsighted shit without melting like a cheap candle,” I said, irritated.
“My eyesight is fine according to the last mage I consulted,” she said, turning back to her pages. “Mayhap we’ll get your tongue checked out, though.”
Before I could describe all the ways I could prove my tongue worked just fine, a knock sounded from the outer door. I moved to open it and noticed how swiftly Audrey stowed whatever she’d been reading.
Kaelson looked at me grimly as I opened it. “Just me again,” he said gruffly. “How’re you holding up, lad?”
It was possibly the first time anyone in this icebox had asked me that and meant it. “Loving your city, Captain,” I told him.
Amusement lit his face up. “You and I both. I’m Kael to my friends.” I must’ve missed when we became friends, and mayhap that showed on my face because he said, “If you aren’t threatening to stick a spear in my gut or a knife in my back, we’re friends.” He clapped me on the shoulder and walked in as he said, “Sorry to disturb you so soon, my lady. I’ve a situation I need to raise with you.”
“What happened?” she asked, pouring him a cordial.
He waved it away. “Nothing yet.” He offered her a crisp, well-oiled bow. “I’ve news that there’s a group of folks—desperate, hungry folks—who’re poised to hit the field hospital supplies as they leave the city. They’re in the lower level, milady, where Victor’s Road crosses with Red Row.”
“How many?” she asked, her eyes slightly narrowed, her shoulders straight.
This layer of bullshit looked a little like her father. The way she seemed taller, the way she took up more space. I was sure I’d seen him do the same. But I didn’t believe she was deliberately mimicking him. Part of me wanted to.
It was safer, thinking of her as the Butcher’s daughter.
More likely, it was testament to the self-belief Isolde had unlocked within her. I looked down at the ground. There wasn’t anything I could do about the past, and the future looked grim, too.
