Page 52 of Untempered
We struggled together silently. Our limbs were pieces in a game, our joints and muscles and sinews the board, our sweat the reward. And when she caught me in a hold I couldn't avoid or break, I tapped, blowing hair from my eyes. "Again."
She obliged me. Some of the edges of my frustration eased during the next bout—by the time we'd finished the third we were sheened with sweat, and I was feeling in control. Luca would do what Luca would do. That didn't have to be my problem.
“What didn’t you tell me about Luca?” I asked her, breathless still, feeling the healthy drum of blood in my veins.
“He’s no longer betrothed to you,” she answered bluntly.
A spurt of terror went through me, but I ignored it. It was the wailing ghost of useless dreams. “Why?”
“He fled. The day of the melee. While you were being kidnapped.” She poured me a drink. “I suspect it’s coincidence, not deliberate. He isn’t that organized.”
I thought of his warm smile and gently encouraging hands. The way he’d lean in and murmur some interesting fact. The way he’d listen as I told him about the way the city’s layout had been modified, and he’d match it against the history of the time, and we could fit the puzzle pieces together.
“He’ll be a better friend than husband,” I said.
She grunted. “They nearly killed the ’Ban heir, too. In the melee. Sullivan dragged him from his saddle. The Duke’s blocking access to mages, so they’ve ridden out, too.”
My heart twisted like a weathered rope. I remembered the way Chay had walked in, face shuttered. How his disinterest had feltpersonal.
Well, at least I’d read that correctly, then.
Isolde passed me a drink, wiping sweat off her forehead with her inner wrist. “We need to make that guard of yours work.”
I paused, cup halfway to my mouth. “Right now? After his friend was almost killed?”
She held up a finger as she downed the whole cup in one breath, and I took the break in conversation as an opportunity to drink, too.
“He knows how to use the sword.” And with this statement, she tossed back her water.
I choked on mine, managing not to splutter all over her. She wasn’t really suggesting what I thought she was? “Yes. Yes, Chay does. Not a shield, though.”
Isolde nodded. “Thomas does, I’m sure. He was holding a spear the other day, and that’s a fine weapon to become proficient with, but you’ve a hunger for the sword.” She sniffed, topping off my water before setting the jug down on the bare stone floor, and I just watched, feeling like my head was stuffed with down. “He can’t squeal to your father. It’d breach his oath. We won’t let him teach you shieldwork, but his bladework and footwork is good.”
Considering how rarely I’d heard Isolde sayanythingcomplimentary aboutanyone,I worked hard to manage my dual feelings of shock and jealousy. “What, just take his sword and say, ‘Sir, how should I best use this to run my father through?’”
She frowned. “No need to tell him your plans. Just make it clear it’ll put your life in peril if he doesn’t teach you, which will trigger the Blood Oath, and off you go.”
Isolde vanished before I’d finished running those conversations through. How could I trigger the Blood Oathwithouttelling the truth? How did I know if the Blood Oath was active? Wouldheknow about it? Even if I could make everything work…was this sort of abuse of power how my father had started a slow decline into a monster?
Chay was no longer my enemy, if he’deverbeen. When he’d walked forward to collect his winner’s medallion last night at the feast, my heart had damn near shattered for him.
His whole life was gone.
I heard the sound of him approaching, the jangle of his scabbard as it rubbed against his belt, the clink of his shield’s strap. As if summoned by my thoughts, he appeared in the doorway, and I started at this intrusion in what felt like the heart of our space. But Isolde was directly behind him, her face still flushed.
The ground vanished from beneath me as he met my eyes. There was no warmth there, not like there had been in the orchard when I’d held a knife to his throat. And I suddenly felt like I might just vomit up all the water I’d drunk.
“You need me?” he asked, the words hard as steel.
I hadn’t figured out what I was going to say yet, and even if I had, I doubted the thoughts would’ve survived the brutality in that question.
Did the ends justify the means?
“You had something to tell Chay, didn’t you, Audrey?” Isolde prompted, and I realized she hadn’t put her skirts back on.
He already knew she was Matri’sion. I’d been told to tell no one, ever, and yet here we were.
His chin lifted, his lips a hard line. The lump in his throat was still, and I didn’t know what that meant.
